Reaching Cold

The crickets chirped that night. It was a surprise to me, a pleasant surprise though. To be able to sleep without the constant ring of gunshots was a welcome reprieve. It wasn’t the gunfire that was so terrible though. It was the screams that rent the night air that caused me to shiver in my bunk. I did not know if it would be my turn next. That night, there was no pleading for mercy that echoed in my child ears. That night, a different kind of scream reached me.

My small fingers felt the rough wooden bars of my bunk. The grooves of the wood dipped up and down, in and out. The noise of fitful sleep filled the bunkhouse. Indeed, who could sleep peacefully in this place?

“How much longer?” I cringed involuntarily when the harsh voice of the German guard pervaded the bunkhouse.

“Only a few minutes.” The gentle tones of the Austrian doctor were in sharp contrast to the guard’s brashness.

A woman’s muffled shriek caused me to roll over in my hard bunk and peer down the dark hallway. The door at the end of the hall was open, and friendly golden light spilled onto the floor.

“Only a couple more tries, my dear.” The doctor soothed the unknown woman.

Curiosity overpowered my fear of the guard, and I slid out of my bunk. My feet made no sound on the chilly concrete floor as I pattered to the open door. I shied away from the light and slipped into the shadow of the door frame, then peeked into the lit up room.

A thin curtain hung from a bar across the ceiling, and in front of the curtain the guard paced, his boots thudding heavily on the floor. The woman shrieked again, but there was something that had changed in her cry. The silhouette doctor straightened behind the curtain, and my attention was drawn to the little form that he held. The piercing wail of a newborn mingled with the cricket choir, and the mother gave a low exclamation of relief and sorrow.

The guard turned about briskly and his hateful eyes passed over the open door. I shrunk back in the shadows, hoping he did not spot me.

The curtain swished as it was roughly shoved aside and the infant’s wails raised in volume. I dared not come out of the shadows to see what was happening, I could only cower in my corner and listen.

A sad sound joined the infant’s cries. The mother was sobbing, and the doctor was whispering consolations. I strained to hear through the noise, but suddenly the wails hushed. A strange sound I had never heard before, like a soft crunch, created a funny feeling in my stomach. Silence fell heavily, blanketing the mother’s soft sobs. The guard’s heavy footsteps pounded by me, and in long strides he walked down the dim hall and out the other passageway. He was carrying something.

A thrill of horror shot through me, but I couldn’t give it much thought as I ran to follow the guard through the halls. He went out one door, and then the heavy metal bars were pushed aside easily as he entered the cool night air.

My child form easily blended with the shadows, and my eyes sought his tall frame as he turned the corner around the building. I followed silently, my bare feet making no sound in the hard packed dirt. The sound of something being dumped halted me, and the guard turned and walked back the way he came.

I waited until the sound of his footsteps faded, and then curiosity propelled me forward. I curled my fingers around the rim of the trash can and peered over, then felt my heartbeat skip.

The still white face of the baby stared up at me.

Its eyes were dark nothingness and the hands were limp. I carefully reached out to touch its slight fingers. An icy chill shot through me when my fingers touched it.

It was cold.

Cold as the concrete floor. Cold as my mother’s body had been when she had hugged me goodbye. Cold as the guard’s steely eyes whenever he looked at me.

A sob choked me when it rose in my throat. I shook my head, wordless as I slowly backed away from the cold, white baby in the trash can. I had not noticed the blood that covered it’s chest, or that the head had hung at an odd angle on its little shoulders.

The cold from the baby was traveling up my arm, reaching for my heart. I turned and ran from the cold, but it chased me.

Something splashed out of my eyes and onto my cheeks. At least my tears were not cold.

(This is a historical fiction piece based off of a true story from a Holocaust survivor. Some of the details have been changed.)

© 2017 Elletrik Writing

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Whisty_x

I enjoyed this piece of writing.
Just make sure you are careful when it comes to the description of the characters surroundings as sometimes it isn't clear enough or it is a bit confusing. Do not be afraid to go into as much detail as you possibly can.
But overall I really enjoyed the story line and then to find out it's based on a true story! Wow!