We Found Heaven
On An Once Innocent Shore
The armbands. You could find one on every arm. A silent reminder of where you belong. There were the greens, the blues, a few reds here and there, but you could not escape.
It was almost midnight, and the gray sky looked down unforgiving on the block of apartments surrounded by the thick brick wall that towered only half as high as the buildings inside. My eyes slowly adjusted to the moonless starless night. The bleak plainness of it all was nearly enough to make one go absolutely insane. The only colors in that entire ‘community’ rested in the armbands tied around the bones of the skeletons that survived here.
Green, blue, red, and yellow; the tell-tale all knowing yellow. That one color defined us all, us all as no good sick, dirty, Jews.
I did not even know what a Jew was.
People saw these armbands as a reminder of that this is where we all belong, where we all are to stay until our lives are brought to an end by either the harsh cold, the gnawing hunger, or the brutal guns of the ones who stood above our matted bodies laying in the snow, shivering.
It was impossible to escape this prison; the armbands were literally sewn into your skin. Needles with ink poorly dotted into the pores of tan and pale skin alike. Yellow was for me, us, the dirty, filthy Jews. Green was for the wealthy, the ones who made dishonest livings, making money. Blue was the best one to have, the one most coveted, they received the best treatment; no one knew why.
Red was the worst to be. Red was the color of blood, the color of distrust and betrayal, the color of absolute abhor that no one could comprehend even if they had seen the worst battles, murders. Even if they had seen everything, they could never understand.
Myra had a red armband…
I was crouched against the cold wall, hiding from the spotlights and gray sky. My palms were sweaty as I tried to gain a grip on the numerous outcroppings, making a mental path for us to follow, the one with the best foot and handholds. We needed a quick escape. That would be the only thing in our favor tonight.
I tried to calm my breathing as light footsteps approached my unlit hiding spot. My eyes were hazed over with tears of desperation and weariness. My arm ached where the armband had been sewn in. I took deep breaths of the burning night air. Counting the stars with the seconds, my mind raced as I waited for her soft footsteps to slice through the thick, blanket-like air.
There was a rustling in the blood-littered sand that blanketed the cold, hard ground of our ‘community’ that froze my heart and lungs before my eyes caught sight of her tired and gaunt face. Her eyes shone like emeralds in the dim light as she walked towards me, taking my hand in hers before turning to face the wall.
Our hands and feet found the path through the wall in synchronization, soft calm breaths the only noise audible this midnight in the dead silence.
The wall was icy. We should have thought things through better, clearer. Our hands reached for each other as she slipped halfway up the fifteen foot wall with the barbed wire and the rusted metal spikes above and the unforgiving sand below. She screamed. I yelled.
Lights flickered from the cabins on the other end of the entire ghetto. Commanding voices echoed in the distance. Tears were staining both of our faces as I let go and landed beside her, taking her hand and pushing her up the wall, ignoring her twisted wrist and bleeding knees. I ignored my throbbing ankles and clouding mind; my blackening vision.
Dog’s teeth and officer’s cold hands ripped and grabbed at our clothes and limbs as our hands were impaled by the cold spikes and cut by the curling barbed wire. Mahogany curls alongside striking honey blonde spears. Yellow and red reflected from our arms as we flew down from the top of the wall.
Our lungs were crushed by rocks and gravel sticking to our faces and stomachs. She was coughing, spitting out blood onto the gray land we hadn’t seen in nearly years. I was gasping for breath, yelling out profanities and hacking out lungs and flesh and teeth.
Curses and shouts and barks flowed over the wall.
“Get to the gate!”
“Get the filthy pigs!”
“The girl had red, kill her first!”
Myra’s hand found mine among the rocks and blood, bringing me to my shattered ankles. She turned and ran. She turned and ran away from the voices and the wall. She turned and ran away with me behind her, crying out to her, saying “Stop!” but she wouldn’t listen.
She would never listen.
Snow fell and covered our blood path through the city we had known before but hadn’t seen in years. Our memories had been wiped away; we had mere instinct guiding us through our home. Yellow stars painted on splintered doors and shattered windows stared us down, permeating our thin skin and dissolving our brittle bones.
She knew where we going. We were leaving the city behind, never looking back, never even attempting to remember after these few hours which streets led to where and what house had people we once knew living inside. We would never remember the supposed ‘friends’ who had turned us in to the men in uniforms, asking for Jews. We would not remember those traitors who had given us to them without another word or a second’s hesitation.
Dying waves reached our ears and the smell of seawater flowed through our throats to our contracting and bleeding lungs. “I will pour the salt on your wounds,” it whispered as it enwrapped us in its cold, cruel and welcoming arms.
Myra finally stopped once we had stepped in the freezing water. She let our hands fall apart as she collapsed onto her knees, burying her face into the sand and liquid ice lapping away at our flesh.
My knees fell into the wet, red sand. We had heard the gunfire and bombs and torpedoes that had rained down on this once innocent sand this morning. The water was still leaking with the blood of the traitors and rescuers. It’s once clean mouth was now stained with indecency and failing mercy. It would never be alive again; it would only take death freely on its own land, welcoming it, cherishing it. It would spend forever praising and worshipping those who had brought it upon itself.
“We’re done, James, we’re finally done.” Myra’s bloodshot, glowing eyes met mine as she smiled a smile that cracked her porcelain face, for such a gesture was now foreign and feigned.
“I know. I know.”
We laid in the water’s wake. We laid and let is slowly lap at our flesh, taking bits and pieces away each time it disappeared as we linked our hands together and stared into the star-filled sky, whispering victory to each other.
We had escaped the world of armbands, and while we still had our own, the yellow and red mixing lovingly together as we lay so close, we would never have to remember. We could finally forget.
We surrendered ourselves and our armbands to the blood-stained, cackling ocean the night of Doomsday, and smiled and cracked our porcelain and stone faces slowly and painfully, as we escaped the memories of the past six months in the concentration camps and ghettos.
We found heaven lying above us in a matter of seconds.
It was almost midnight, and the gray sky looked down unforgiving on the block of apartments surrounded by the thick brick wall that towered only half as high as the buildings inside. My eyes slowly adjusted to the moonless starless night. The bleak plainness of it all was nearly enough to make one go absolutely insane. The only colors in that entire ‘community’ rested in the armbands tied around the bones of the skeletons that survived here.
Green, blue, red, and yellow; the tell-tale all knowing yellow. That one color defined us all, us all as no good sick, dirty, Jews.
I did not even know what a Jew was.
People saw these armbands as a reminder of that this is where we all belong, where we all are to stay until our lives are brought to an end by either the harsh cold, the gnawing hunger, or the brutal guns of the ones who stood above our matted bodies laying in the snow, shivering.
It was impossible to escape this prison; the armbands were literally sewn into your skin. Needles with ink poorly dotted into the pores of tan and pale skin alike. Yellow was for me, us, the dirty, filthy Jews. Green was for the wealthy, the ones who made dishonest livings, making money. Blue was the best one to have, the one most coveted, they received the best treatment; no one knew why.
Red was the worst to be. Red was the color of blood, the color of distrust and betrayal, the color of absolute abhor that no one could comprehend even if they had seen the worst battles, murders. Even if they had seen everything, they could never understand.
Myra had a red armband…
I was crouched against the cold wall, hiding from the spotlights and gray sky. My palms were sweaty as I tried to gain a grip on the numerous outcroppings, making a mental path for us to follow, the one with the best foot and handholds. We needed a quick escape. That would be the only thing in our favor tonight.
I tried to calm my breathing as light footsteps approached my unlit hiding spot. My eyes were hazed over with tears of desperation and weariness. My arm ached where the armband had been sewn in. I took deep breaths of the burning night air. Counting the stars with the seconds, my mind raced as I waited for her soft footsteps to slice through the thick, blanket-like air.
There was a rustling in the blood-littered sand that blanketed the cold, hard ground of our ‘community’ that froze my heart and lungs before my eyes caught sight of her tired and gaunt face. Her eyes shone like emeralds in the dim light as she walked towards me, taking my hand in hers before turning to face the wall.
Our hands and feet found the path through the wall in synchronization, soft calm breaths the only noise audible this midnight in the dead silence.
The wall was icy. We should have thought things through better, clearer. Our hands reached for each other as she slipped halfway up the fifteen foot wall with the barbed wire and the rusted metal spikes above and the unforgiving sand below. She screamed. I yelled.
Lights flickered from the cabins on the other end of the entire ghetto. Commanding voices echoed in the distance. Tears were staining both of our faces as I let go and landed beside her, taking her hand and pushing her up the wall, ignoring her twisted wrist and bleeding knees. I ignored my throbbing ankles and clouding mind; my blackening vision.
Dog’s teeth and officer’s cold hands ripped and grabbed at our clothes and limbs as our hands were impaled by the cold spikes and cut by the curling barbed wire. Mahogany curls alongside striking honey blonde spears. Yellow and red reflected from our arms as we flew down from the top of the wall.
Our lungs were crushed by rocks and gravel sticking to our faces and stomachs. She was coughing, spitting out blood onto the gray land we hadn’t seen in nearly years. I was gasping for breath, yelling out profanities and hacking out lungs and flesh and teeth.
Curses and shouts and barks flowed over the wall.
“Get to the gate!”
“Get the filthy pigs!”
“The girl had red, kill her first!”
Myra’s hand found mine among the rocks and blood, bringing me to my shattered ankles. She turned and ran. She turned and ran away from the voices and the wall. She turned and ran away with me behind her, crying out to her, saying “Stop!” but she wouldn’t listen.
She would never listen.
Snow fell and covered our blood path through the city we had known before but hadn’t seen in years. Our memories had been wiped away; we had mere instinct guiding us through our home. Yellow stars painted on splintered doors and shattered windows stared us down, permeating our thin skin and dissolving our brittle bones.
She knew where we going. We were leaving the city behind, never looking back, never even attempting to remember after these few hours which streets led to where and what house had people we once knew living inside. We would never remember the supposed ‘friends’ who had turned us in to the men in uniforms, asking for Jews. We would not remember those traitors who had given us to them without another word or a second’s hesitation.
Dying waves reached our ears and the smell of seawater flowed through our throats to our contracting and bleeding lungs. “I will pour the salt on your wounds,” it whispered as it enwrapped us in its cold, cruel and welcoming arms.
Myra finally stopped once we had stepped in the freezing water. She let our hands fall apart as she collapsed onto her knees, burying her face into the sand and liquid ice lapping away at our flesh.
My knees fell into the wet, red sand. We had heard the gunfire and bombs and torpedoes that had rained down on this once innocent sand this morning. The water was still leaking with the blood of the traitors and rescuers. It’s once clean mouth was now stained with indecency and failing mercy. It would never be alive again; it would only take death freely on its own land, welcoming it, cherishing it. It would spend forever praising and worshipping those who had brought it upon itself.
“We’re done, James, we’re finally done.” Myra’s bloodshot, glowing eyes met mine as she smiled a smile that cracked her porcelain face, for such a gesture was now foreign and feigned.
“I know. I know.”
We laid in the water’s wake. We laid and let is slowly lap at our flesh, taking bits and pieces away each time it disappeared as we linked our hands together and stared into the star-filled sky, whispering victory to each other.
We had escaped the world of armbands, and while we still had our own, the yellow and red mixing lovingly together as we lay so close, we would never have to remember. We could finally forget.
We surrendered ourselves and our armbands to the blood-stained, cackling ocean the night of Doomsday, and smiled and cracked our porcelain and stone faces slowly and painfully, as we escaped the memories of the past six months in the concentration camps and ghettos.
We found heaven lying above us in a matter of seconds.