Cheerio.Chelsea.
Posts : 3512
Walking An Empty Street
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 Posted 19/03/2007 10:34:15 PM | | Chapter one: The yellow star
It’s dark…and foggy. Shadows surround me trying to grasp onto my pale legs to drag me down underneath the Earth where they reside. Taunting me is what they are doing. Laughing in my face and spitting their nasty saliva in my matted brunette hair. Do they have not a heart inside their shallow bodies? Do they not have mercy? Do they even care?
I was too deeply engulfed inside this dream of mine that at first, I never thought of making sense of it. Who were those shadows that looked down upon me with an enormous grin spread across their face?
That yellow star.
It seemed as if it were a clue into the future. A big yellow star kept appearing in this dream of mine. Is it trying to tell me something? That somehow something horrible was about to happen?
The dream definitely wasn’t a relaxing one. Not at all. I’m sure I was tossing and turning all night while sleeping, trying to wake up. Trying to get out of this deep trance I was in. That night it seemed as if I could not wake up. I actually thought I was never going to wake up. That maybe, just maybe it wasn’t a dream. That somehow the dream became real. More than I ever would have imagined…
I started to think more and more about this as I walked along the sidewalk heading for home with my very annoying 5 year old sister along beside me. I never had time for myself. I always had to baby-sit this weasel while Momma was working. Oh the nerve of some people! I’d rather be watching paint dry…
Dressed in a somewhat frilly white school uniform and suitcase in one hand and my hand placed in the other, my sister, Romy, skipped down this sidewalk, dragging me down behind her. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I continued to be pulled down by this little girl. This is when I finally take notice just how much of a weakling I am. I know pathetic right? I can’t even carry a stupid milk carton for more than a block or so before I set it down to take a rest! Oh man, do we need a man around the house! He would be strong enough to carry that milk carton ten whole miles without stopping!
My father died from cancer about three years ago when I was only ten. He was a good man. Being born and raised in Frankfurt, Germany he was always one of the best students in school. It was a great Jewish school for young children. It taught them how to behave as well as just Jewish history. As a matter of fact, Romy and I attend that same school.
Papa always told me before he died to never give up even if you’re left with just a handful of salt. He told me to be thankful for what I have because I may not always get to keep those things. He would say; “Nixie, lassen sie nicht gewinnen. Oben haften für, was du innen glaubst und nicht läßt es überhaupt gehen. Und wenn sie den weg von dir stehlen, es sein lassen. Die bessere Person immer sein. Bessere Sachen kommen deine Weise und im Ende bist du der, der mit reichem Boden bewilligt wird, während sie mit dem Salz gelassen werden.”
Which, in English meant; “Nixie, don't let them win. Stick up for what you believe in and don't ever let it go. And if they steal that away from you, let it be. Always be the better person. Better things will come your way and in the end you'll be the one granted with rich soil, while they are left with the salt.”
I live by those words everyday. I miss him everyday. I wish he was here with me…everyday. We were very close. I remember when I was a little girl he would read me stories to bed in German and rock me to sleep. Then he would tuck me in and kiss me on the forehead. He’d whisper, “Ich liebe dich Babymädchen. Süsse Träume.” Meaning, “I love you baby girl. Sweet dreams,” oh so very softly into my ear. I’d smile up at him and say, “Ich liebe dich auch, Papa.”
I love you too, Papa…
Romy never knew Papa all that well, being two years old when he died. I don’t know if she even understands the concept of a father. At least I got to spend time with him. Romy…she never had that. I love Romy although she can be a pain in the butt at times.
I’d do anything for her.
I’d give up my life for her.
“Schwester look,” Romy cried pointing down the street as she dragged me even further. “Soldiers!”
I looked ahead of me seeing maybe two dozen men wearing brown uniforms in a line. They stood like statues with guns at their sides while others seemed to be saying something into walkie-talkies. They had this weird symbol on their shoulder that I recognized almost instantly. These were those shadows in my dream. I knew they were. They didn’t look very nice either.
“Romy…wait,” I cried as she tugged at my sleeve. “Don’t go near them!”
She stopped and looked up at me not understanding. “But why schwester? I want to see them! Please?” I shook my head. “No, we mustn’t kleines Mädchen. We need to go home.”
She then growled.
“Romy,” I told her. “Take my hand.”
She sighed and did as she was told. “I just don’t understand why I can’t see them!” I looked down at her. “You can’t because I said so. Now let’s go.”
I was the one pulling Romy down the sidewalk for a change trying to get home. Of course she kept stopping to pick up useless things on the ground such as rocks and leaves. I swear, I’m never going to watch her ever again! I don’t care what Momma says…
“Look schwester!” She said pointing to a furry object on the ground. “A kitty!” She then tugged at my arm at an attempt to pet the little cat but I pulled her away.
“We need to go home Romy, mamma will be worried about us.” I told her. She then looked at me and laughed. “Calm down schwester. It will only take a second!”
I then laughed at myself and bent down to pet the cat. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be so hard on you.” We looked at each other and smiled.
“Schwester…what was Papa like?” Romy asked softly as she stroked the little kitten’s back. I then sighed and looked up into the sky, trying to think of the right words to say.
“Well…he was a great father. You would have loved him. And you know what? Papa would always hold you in his arms, rocking you to sleep singing Schlaf kindlein schlaf.”
“Schlaf kindlein schlaf?”
“Yeah, the lullaby. You mean you’ve never heard it before?” She then shook her head. I laughed.
“How does it go, schwester? Please sing it.” She begged as she looked at me with those puppy dog eyes that no one, not even me, could resist. I groaned. “Oh alright, just…don’t laugh.” I then wetted my lips and cleared my throat. “Schlaf kindlein schlaf, Der Vater hüt't die Schaf. Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein, da fällt herab ein Träumelein. Schlaf kindlein schlaf.”
She stared at me. “But schwester, it doesn’t make sense! Mamma doesn’t shake any branches!” I tried not to laugh but I failed. I wasn’t laughing because I thought she was stupid. I was laughing because of how cute she is. Little kids just say funny stuff!
“Romy…it doesn’t mean that exactly. It means that Mamma is guiding us in our sleep making sure we have sweet dreams. She doesn’t really have a tree. It’s a metaphor.”
“Metaphor?”
“Maybe you’ll understand better when you’re older but if you ask me, I think we should be heading home. It’s getting late.” I say laughing.
“But schwester…”
“Ah ah ah, no but’s,” I told her. “Say good bye to the kitty-cat.” She then sighed, looked down at the little cat and said bye.
“Momma,” I called out as I walked into our house. Our old house; Our VERY old house. My great-great Großvater built this house back in the early 1800’s. After he died he past it down to my great Großvater who then passed it down to Papa. I’ve always wondered why they haven’t moved! This house was falling apart! But Papa would never ever give this house up. It was the only memory of his Papa he had left.
“Momma?” I repeated as Romy and I placed our coats on the hooks that hung on the wall beside the door.
No answer.
Romy looked up at me. “Nixie, where’s momma?” I then shrugged. “I don’t know.” I started walking around the house trying to find her when a loud voice made me stop in my tracks.
“I SAID PUT IT ON!”
My instincts then kicked in and I ran towards that voice knowing something was wrong. The voice was coming from the kitchen; I knew it was. Romy ran behind me as I stopped in front of the kitchen’s entrance. There stood two Nazi soldiers, guns at their sides, a helmet on each head, and two pairs of big black boots standing firmly on the ground. My Momma was sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs and the yellow object she held in her nimble pale hands made my heart skip. It was a yellow star. The same exact star from my dream. It was the Star of David and on the star it said Jude; the German word for Jew. I stared at the star for a moment and then looked at Momma. Her hair was all matted on top of her head, her eyes all watery from tears that ran down her porcelain face. She looked over at Romy and I and cried,
“Leave! Now!”
But I just stood there, stunned with Romy right beside me. I looked over at the soldiers who were now staring at me with their cold black eyes.
“Leave!” She repeated. “Please!”
I now obeyed and did as I was told. I grabbed Romy’s arm and ran, heading for the front door. But I was too late. One of the soldiers grabbed me from behind and picked me up, throwing me forcefully to the ground. Then they grabbed Romy.
“Don’t hurt her!” I screamed.
But they didn’t listen. Without warning they threw her to the ground next to me making her cry hysterically. I grabbed Romy and held her in my arms as the soldier tossed me two yellow stars, identical to Momma’s.
“Put them on now!” He ordered as he pointed his gun at us.
I quickly took both of the stars and put one on me and the other on Romy without another word. I then looked towards the kitchen, seeing Momma putting on her star. I had no idea why this was happening at first. Why were there soldiers at our house? What did the stars mean? Why did we have to wear them?
“Why are you doing this to us?” I cried, looking up at him. He then looked at his partner and his partner looked at him and then they began to laugh.
“Why?” He asked smiling. His face then turned into a scowl as he said, “BECAUSE YOUR KIND ARE EVIL! THAT’S WHY!”
I jumped back a little as if I were slapped right in the face by those words of hate.
“Our kind,” I cried. “WE ARE NO DIFFERENT!”
“Pffft! No different? Look at you and this crummy house! YOU’RE JEWISH SCUM!”
I didn’t need to hear anything else. I then gave him a dirty look and spit right in his face.
Bad idea.
He then wiped off his face as he stared at me and slapped me right across my face. Pain shot up through my whole body making me wince in agony.
“When the camps are finished you are first on the list!” He screamed.
The soldiers then grabbed their things and walked out, slamming the door behind them.
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