A short love story based on the Nazi invasion of France. The limit was 1500 words, so this first part is approximately 747 words or so. I decided to do something different and make the dialogue native to those languages. If something is not well written, tell me about it. 🙂 Part 1 of 2.
The images still linger inside her mind, the smell of licorice and mint, swirling beneath the façade of roses and tea. A cookie crumb laden table adorned with porcelain cups and plates. A single napkin stained with her favorite tea: apple and cinnamon. She looked around, gazing at the evenly cut grass and the artistically trimmed rose bushes brimming with red. The gentle sway of the peach tree above her, still without its generous offerings to her family yet covered in cute pink flowers.
The sheet rock beneath her small mahogany chair continues on to the back gate. The sun’s rays piece the tiny spaces uncovered by the tree, each flower glowing beneath the light. The echoes of yesterday dull the carefully orchestrated song produced by the erratic movement of the tree’s branches under the influence of the composing wind.
Tiny birds, covered in brown feathers with a warm yellow underbelly and small black and white stripes on their head, flutter to and fro, pecking at the crumbs. It was still midday, the butterflies flew to and fro between rose bushes, tiny black ants ran mindlessly on the surface of the stained napkin, and a hummingbird provided her with the needed afternoon entertainment.
A constant banging on the distance, resonating at the back of her mind; too low to be a nuisance, too high to be ignored, she gazed at the horizon. A horizon still covered in blue, crisscrossed with light white clouds that seldom traverse the sky, like a painting by her grandmother. She read a letter, sighing at the last sentence. Sorrow was nothing compared to loneliness.
They told her there was a world that people like her would never understand. A world beyond silk clothing, silverware, porcelain and mahogany; where chocolate never caresses lips and tea flows tasteless and cold. A world without molasses or sugar, no biscuits or sweets; where the sound of music is dulled by the constant tune of war and misery.
She knew very little of that world, that’s why someone close to her heart ventured off into that realm. He promised memories and a fine story to tell but above all, he promised peace for her. Now, he’s somewhere where the rivers run red, the ground is soaked in black and crimson, the skies are filled with grey despair and the sun rises above the souls of those who wander aimlessly into the night.
Holding her dress between her legs, as the wind blew stronger, she shuffled into her summer home. Looking at the calendar, she scratched off another day: May 24th. Falling lifelessly on her bed, she looked up at the wooden ceiling, now a red stain started spreading down to the walls, engulfing her in a sea of scarlet, white and black. She woke-up screaming, soaking in sweat, covered in Goosebumps, back to 1940.
The constant banging and thumping in the distance grew louder and louder. She closed her ears with the palm of her hands, looking outside her window. The soothing light-blue tone had slowly been overwritten by a grim orange stain. Smoke rising, staining the sky with grey, she held on to her rosary and prayed that the world she did not know of would not consume her.
Loud motors growing closer and closer, the house started shaking. The distant bangs become loud explosions, shattering windows, blasting away trees. Battle tanks broke through the fence, crushing the rose bushes she had carefully worked with for over a year, bathing the old peach tree in a shower of flames, and breaking away everything that was before them. Men in masks, a familiar red band on their arms, rifles ready, backpacks with weapons and sin; these were the men that Alphonse had warned her about.
“J’ai besoin de vous ici avec moi,” she whispered.
A loud crash shattered her peace of mind. Hiding inside her closet, she could see, from the crevices of the furniture, these men wandering around her home. They didn’t steal anything but rather burned and broke everything they could find; vandalizing her home.
Closing her eyes tight, she held on to the door of the closet. A strong force tried to pull the doors, but she grabbed on to them as hard as she could. Finally, a strong force pulled her. She let out a scream as someone grabbed her by the hair. She opened her eyes, staring into the gaze of two lifeless blue eyes. His clear skin covered in dust and soot, a few strands of golden hair peeking from underneath his helmet.