Interlude 04-Iv’s Memories
Poland, 1944
Two lone figures stood aloof on a hill. One was a young man, whose name the world had forgotten. The other was a small, frail girl with flowing black hair and numerous incisions and bruises all across her body. Her most notable trait was her missing lower arms. Both her arms had been amputated from the elbow down, which were wrapped in thick bandages. The bleeding had long since stopped.
Together, they overlooked a faraway scene. A complex made out of several large facilities were present with dozens, if not hundreds, of people shuffling in and out. Some soldiers, some civilians. Even from such a distance, the little girl noted that they looked lifeless, with hunched backs and dull movements. Smoke emanated from a place within the complex that she could not make out.
It had been her home. Her prison.
Iv
It was burning. Burning.
They were all leaving, was it finally over?
I don't know. I am just a child after all. I don't know anything.
Looking back before the war, life had been fun and cosy. My parents loved me, we had a warm neighbourhood, and most importantly, I had a loveable twin sister. Apparently, my sister and I were special, because father was special. We looked a lot like him, and he looked a lot different to other people in the neighbourhood. Mom called him a…Ja-...Jatanese? Happy times. Happy times. Happy times.
.
.
.
.
Times were not happy. Then apparently something bad was going to happen, and my special father left for what they called the “battlefield”. He never came back. My memories are hazy, but I think I vaguely recall some adults talking, was it mother? Maybe a neighbour. They said he died. He was apparently one of the first few who died once the bad thing -the war- happened. It all felt so unreal back then.
.
.
Then the foreigners came, and we were all sent off. I remember mother tightly hugging us on the train. A train filled with so many people. I recognised nobody. Everyone was shouting. Were they crying? Was I crying? I don't remember. Then we arrived at a new, large house with all the other people. I even ended up reuniting with some neighbourhood friends.
.
.
.
They all died in the first few days. My memories became hazy soon after. Mom disappeared sometime after, and I remember my twin sister and I hugging each other as strange adults took us to strange rooms.
.
.
.
They did painful things. Here, I remember screaming. My sister also screamed. A lot, I think?
.
.
.
.
I don't remember much anymore. For some reason, it is so hazy. Somewhere along the way, my lower arms disappeared, my sister disappeared too. Now I was alone.
Had been alone.
-
-
Waking back up from my memories, I saw the big man beside me giving me a concerned look. Stop it. I knew he didn't care. But, he still saved me. He came in one day, and took me out. It felt weird. It felt wrong. To just walk out like that. None of us had gotten to walk out like that. It happened so easily it felt as if all the tears and screams didn't happen. It was so...... I don't know anymore.
Looking up towards him, I asked:
"Who are you?"
"Oh, me? Well that's hard to say. I'm just a lone man with a vision, my dear little one."
I don't understand.
“What will happen to me now?”
The big man gave me a gentle smile, before caressing my head. His voice came out soft, and I understood his words, unlike the other big men. It was comforting:
“Don't worry, nothings going to happen. You're safe now. You can do what you want. If not, you can stick around with me for a while. I’ve got a nice home, in a nice place. Where nobody can hurt you anymore. How does that sound?”
A light chuckle came, before he closed his eyes. He seemed to be thinking of something. Something big. It was something some other adults liked to do a lot. He continued:
“Not that I doubt you need to be taken care of. I know what you can do."
What?
He……knew? No, that made sense. Those other men wanted me because I was special, no, we were special. Because we were twins. Now, this man wanted me because of what I could do. Still, even those other men who had taken care of me for so long didn't know what I could do. How did he walk in and…… just know?
No good. I can't think. I'm too tired. I'm done. But if that's how it is, then that's fine. I don't know what I can do anymore anyways. Raising what remained of my right arm, I focused on the strange feeling I had started to feel starting from a few days ago. Small, red drops began forming on the cuts and other hurt places. It was my blood. Slowly, the droplets rose up into the air, before joining together to form a small ball.
I looked at what I made. I then looked at the big man. He had a small smile on his face. It was a different kind of smile. I didn't know what he was thinking. Was he happy? Excited? Maybe even sad? I don't know. Still, that's fine. After all, I've never known.
.
.
.
I'm just a child, after all.
-
“What do you want me to do?"
Interlude 04-Iv’s Memories
Poland, 1944
Two lone figures stood aloof on a hill. One was a young man, whose name the world had forgotten. The other was a small, frail girl with flowing black hair and numerous incisions and bruises all across her body. Her most notable trait was her missing lower arms. Both her arms had been amputated from the elbow down, which were wrapped in thick bandages. The bleeding had long since stopped.
Together, they overlooked a faraway scene. A complex made out of several large facilities were present with dozens, if not hundreds, of people shuffling in and out. Some soldiers, some civilians. Even from such a distance, the little girl noted that they looked lifeless, with hunched backs and dull movements. Smoke emanated from a place within the complex that she could not make out.
It had been her home. Her prison.
Iv
It was burning. Burning.
They were all leaving, was it finally over?
I don't know. I am just a child after all. I don't know anything.
Looking back before the war, life had been fun and cosy. My parents loved me, we had a warm neighbourhood, and most importantly, I had a loveable twin sister. Apparently, my sister and I were special, because father was special. We looked a lot like him, and he looked a lot different to other people in the neighbourhood. Mom called him a…Ja-...Jatanese? Happy times. Happy times. Happy times.
.
.
.
.
Times were not happy. Then apparently something bad was going to happen, and my special father left for what they called the “battlefield”. He never came back. My memories are hazy, but I think I vaguely recall some adults talking, was it mother? Maybe a neighbour. They said he died. He was apparently one of the first few who died once the bad thing -the war- happened. It all felt so unreal back then.
.
.
Then the foreigners came, and we were all sent off. I remember mother tightly hugging us on the train. A train filled with so many people. I recognised nobody. Everyone was shouting. Were they crying? Was I crying? I don't remember. Then we arrived at a new, large house with all the other people. I even ended up reuniting with some neighbourhood friends.
.
.
.
They all died in the first few days. My memories became hazy soon after. Mom disappeared sometime after, and I remember my twin sister and I hugging each other as strange adults took us to strange rooms.
.
.
.
They did painful things. Here, I remember screaming. My sister also screamed. A lot, I think?
.
.
.
.
I don't remember much anymore. For some reason, it is so hazy. Somewhere along the way, my lower arms disappeared, my sister disappeared too. Now I was alone.
Had been alone.
-
-
Waking back up from my memories, I saw the big man beside me giving me a concerned look. Stop it. I knew he didn't care. But, he still saved me. He came in one day, and took me out. It felt weird. It felt wrong. To just walk out like that. None of us had gotten to walk out like that. It happened so easily it felt as if all the tears and screams didn't happen. It was so...... I don't know anymore.
Looking up towards him, I asked:
"Who are you?"
"Oh, me? Well that's hard to say. I'm just a lone man with a vision, my dear little one."
I don't understand.
“What will happen to me now?”
The big man gave me a gentle smile, before caressing my head. His voice came out soft, and I understood his words, unlike the other big men. It was comforting:
“Don't worry, nothings going to happen. You're safe now. You can do what you want. If not, you can stick around with me for a while. I’ve got a nice home, in a nice place. Where nobody can hurt you anymore. How does that sound?”
A light chuckle came, before he closed his eyes. He seemed to be thinking of something. Something big. It was something some other adults liked to do a lot. He continued:
“Not that I doubt you need to be taken care of. I know what you can do."
What?
He……knew? No, that made sense. Those other men wanted me because I was special, no, we were special. Because we were twins. Now, this man wanted me because of what I could do. Still, even those other men who had taken care of me for so long didn't know what I could do. How did he walk in and…… just know?
No good. I can't think. I'm too tired. I'm done. But if that's how it is, then that's fine. I don't know what I can do anymore anyways. Raising what remained of my right arm, I focused on the strange feeling I had started to feel starting from a few days ago. Small, red drops began forming on the cuts and other hurt places. It was my blood. Slowly, the droplets rose up into the air, before joining together to form a small ball.
I looked at what I made. I then looked at the big man. He had a small smile on his face. It was a different kind of smile. I didn't know what he was thinking. Was he happy? Excited? Maybe even sad? I don't know. Still, that's fine. After all, I've never known.
.
.
.
I'm just a child, after all.
-
“What do you want me to do?"
