Secret Destroyers.
One.
The radiant sun cast an ominous shadow over your typical park; benches littered the grounds as well as squealing, smiling little kids. Only, it wasn’t too dull; bright flowers peeked out from beneath the dark soil, contrasting with the burly dark trees that were scattered about in the park with their vibrant, cheerful green leaves that swayed to and fro in the whirling winds. The air was crisp and clean; like fresh linen clipped tightly to the laundry line and flapping about in the wind. An eerie silence settled over the park.
From now on, silence will be sacred. The shocking bouts of utter silence will be valued. Noise will soon erupt everywhere and pierce the silence and shatter the eardrums of all. Flames will overtake the orderly stores and houses and the people will be ripped away from all that they knew. No complaints, no objections, and no questions.
Numbing silence; rest in peace.
Screams of the Nazis were magnified by a hundred it seemed; echoing against the solid bark of the tree. Their accents were difficult to decipher and their commands were impossible to fathom. Their voices were thick and hasty; coated with a lethal mixture of repent and anger.
Gerard’s arms were wrapped around me tightly and his head lay limply on top of mine. My sweaty hands gripped his. My heartbeat was rapidly increasing and it felt as if at any moment, my heart was liable to explode and shatter my ribcage. The bright crimson would shoot out and stain the off-white concrete and my mark would forever be here as I collapsed into a giant heap of broken bones and decomposing organs. The anxiousness an horror consumed me like a terrible monster.
I may not have been the most intelligent person in Poland at the time, but Gerard didn’t bother lying to me; he told me everything he knew about Hitler and the perilous concentration camps straight up. He didn’t sugarcoat anything. He did not spare a single detail of what went on in Auschwitz, Treblinka, and Chelmno and every other camp in Poland and everywhere else. Part of me knew how risky it was for me to be sitting in his lap in a public park while I held his hand in my own and wasn’t afraid. The other part wanted me to run away and lock myself away in a dungeon or something so that no one would drag me off to a death camp for being a homosexual.
In the distance, a mutual friend of ours, Robert came running up. He skidded along the concrete and finally came to a full stop in front of us. He was doubled over, with his hands on his knees, frantically trying to catch his breath. Worry was clearly etched all over his pastel skin. Gerard seemed to immediately know what was going on, but I was unaware of everything and sat stiffly in his lap, squirming every once and awhile while chewing uneasily on my fingernails, anxious to hear what had happened.
An awkward silence settled in the air as a million questions flooded through my mind.
“Was it…?” Gerard began as his voice gradually faded and finally the numbing silence returned. The question dare not asked was answered with a slow, miserable nod and four crystal rivers of salty, hot liquid running down two worn and frustrated faces.
“I was going t-to try a-an-and hide him,” Robert began, stuttering and stopping to wipe his eyes and nose along his ripped blue sleeve, “B-but I guess I-I was j-j-just too l-late,”
His body shook violently with sob after sob as Gerard gently nudged me off of his lap and crawled over to Robert, smearing his hands along the dirt and decorating his brand new trousers with vivid grass-stains. My body plopped against the wet grass as I sat there, completely dumbstruck and confused.
“Shh,” His tone was soothing and arresting as he held Robert close and ran his hand through his short and choppy ginger hair, “It was bound to h-happen,” His voice cracked slightly and his face contorted into a look of dread and fury.
Realization hit me hit me suddenly as a deafening alarm went off in the back of my head screaming, “Concentration camps!” over and over again.
Raymond was Jewish, wasn’t he? Gerard might have mentioned it once or twice. That would explain why Toro’s Books was shut down without any notice, nor explanation. I strained to remember what now seemed like petty details of my friend. Did Raymond have blond hair? Blue eyes? No, no, he didn’t. He wasn’t a chosen one. He was not an Aryan. He was not one of the “chosen ones” and because of that, he was hauled away.
From now on, silence will be sacred. The shocking bouts of utter silence will be valued. Noise will soon erupt everywhere and pierce the silence and shatter the eardrums of all. Flames will overtake the orderly stores and houses and the people will be ripped away from all that they knew. No complaints, no objections, and no questions.
Numbing silence; rest in peace.
Screams of the Nazis were magnified by a hundred it seemed; echoing against the solid bark of the tree. Their accents were difficult to decipher and their commands were impossible to fathom. Their voices were thick and hasty; coated with a lethal mixture of repent and anger.
Gerard’s arms were wrapped around me tightly and his head lay limply on top of mine. My sweaty hands gripped his. My heartbeat was rapidly increasing and it felt as if at any moment, my heart was liable to explode and shatter my ribcage. The bright crimson would shoot out and stain the off-white concrete and my mark would forever be here as I collapsed into a giant heap of broken bones and decomposing organs. The anxiousness an horror consumed me like a terrible monster.
I may not have been the most intelligent person in Poland at the time, but Gerard didn’t bother lying to me; he told me everything he knew about Hitler and the perilous concentration camps straight up. He didn’t sugarcoat anything. He did not spare a single detail of what went on in Auschwitz, Treblinka, and Chelmno and every other camp in Poland and everywhere else. Part of me knew how risky it was for me to be sitting in his lap in a public park while I held his hand in my own and wasn’t afraid. The other part wanted me to run away and lock myself away in a dungeon or something so that no one would drag me off to a death camp for being a homosexual.
In the distance, a mutual friend of ours, Robert came running up. He skidded along the concrete and finally came to a full stop in front of us. He was doubled over, with his hands on his knees, frantically trying to catch his breath. Worry was clearly etched all over his pastel skin. Gerard seemed to immediately know what was going on, but I was unaware of everything and sat stiffly in his lap, squirming every once and awhile while chewing uneasily on my fingernails, anxious to hear what had happened.
An awkward silence settled in the air as a million questions flooded through my mind.
“Was it…?” Gerard began as his voice gradually faded and finally the numbing silence returned. The question dare not asked was answered with a slow, miserable nod and four crystal rivers of salty, hot liquid running down two worn and frustrated faces.
“I was going t-to try a-an-and hide him,” Robert began, stuttering and stopping to wipe his eyes and nose along his ripped blue sleeve, “B-but I guess I-I was j-j-just too l-late,”
His body shook violently with sob after sob as Gerard gently nudged me off of his lap and crawled over to Robert, smearing his hands along the dirt and decorating his brand new trousers with vivid grass-stains. My body plopped against the wet grass as I sat there, completely dumbstruck and confused.
“Shh,” His tone was soothing and arresting as he held Robert close and ran his hand through his short and choppy ginger hair, “It was bound to h-happen,” His voice cracked slightly and his face contorted into a look of dread and fury.
Realization hit me hit me suddenly as a deafening alarm went off in the back of my head screaming, “Concentration camps!” over and over again.
Raymond was Jewish, wasn’t he? Gerard might have mentioned it once or twice. That would explain why Toro’s Books was shut down without any notice, nor explanation. I strained to remember what now seemed like petty details of my friend. Did Raymond have blond hair? Blue eyes? No, no, he didn’t. He wasn’t a chosen one. He was not an Aryan. He was not one of the “chosen ones” and because of that, he was hauled away.