Chapter One: Foreign Tongues

Get on that train and move as fast as you can to the very back away from all the people. Shield your face, and please, do not talk to anyone! 

I recited my oldest sister’s words to myself, reminding me constantly that our world had changed; and we were the enemies to our brother. The only thing that was saving me at this point was that I happened to be born a Catholic to purely Polish parents, not Jewish. That small fact did not save everyone from the vicious slaughter around us. As a big brother, the common belief is they protect and shield at all costs because a brother is flesh and blood; your own family. In a matter of months, that big brother failed to shield and protect but chose to pillage and destroy. That big brother is Germany, and we are no longer Poland.

I jumped onto the silver train as soon as the station was clear of soldiers. It took strength I never knew I had to throw my luggage about three feet into an opening and then heave myself out of ankle deep snow and onto the train. Now the hard part was over. My next step was to find an isolated area in the train where surely no ticket checkers would lurk. I stood on my toes in order to peek through each window into the boxcars. Most were very fancy, highly decorated and colorful, which meant I was not accepted. I had to find a place fast because the speed was picking up and so was the snowfall. The tiny snowflakes accumulated on my eyelashes and lips, freezing my fingers to the bone. “This isn’t getting me anywhere, and I will look like a fool with my hair wet from the snow if I don’t get inside,” I mumbled to myself, as I walked into the empty lavish boxcar. There was a man pouring wine, wearing an apron. He failed to acknowledge me as I fled to the next car. All of which appeared to be for upper class so I feared for the worst: that I would be caught and thrown out…at best.

“Are you lost?” A middle aged man dressed as a server approached me, his face wrinkled in confusion.

“I am just looking for my little sister. She should be here, but you know girls, they are always getting into trouble!” I chuckled, pulling it off, but inside I was terrified.

“I can get the conductor. What is your number?”

My number? My number! I had no ticket, my obvious reason for sneaking around and fearing being caught before my destination. I had to keep acting, keep convincing him. “See, that’s the problem, my little sister has it.” I began wringing my hands, a telltale sign I was frantic.

“Well, in that case, I hope you find her.” He smiled and hurried away to the dirty dishes behind me. I didn’t wait around to watch him, instead, I back tracked. I figured that I was walking toward the front of the train which is upper class and that the back would theoretically be for the blue collar citizens that couldn’t afford such good seating and accommodations.

Several minutes passed before I came into contact with the loud noises the locomotive produced, as well as a man yelling, “Ticket please!” Once again peeking through the small circle window, I found a group of people sitting on metal benches, covered in blankets and huddling. I gasped and turned around swiftly, pressing my back against the door. The luggage was getting heavier and heavier on my arms, and my hands began sweating, causing me to adjust the handles again and again.

“You!” At the other end of the hallway, the tall red and gold door with a round window slammed open and simultaneously a short fat man charged toward me. Gestapo, I thought, for he was clad in solid black with a red swastika arm band. I gasped; eyes wide like a deer in head lights. I had no time to think, and certainly nowhere to run. “Show me your ticket!” He barked. I gulped and had to bear the truth.

“I don’t have one,” I whimpered.

“Identity card!” He ordered. My hands shook as I dropped my bags and began digging in my shoulder bag. “Schnell, schnell!” He screamed. My heart was ready to explode from my chest as I erratically handed him my identity card. The round man grinded his teeth and angrily snatched the tiny booklet from my grasp. I resorted to wringing my hands once more. “Polish,” He muttered. “Catholic,” He mumbled again. Then, to my utter shock, his hand landed on my forearm and he dug his nails into me with everything he had as he dragged me away.

“Wait! My bags!” I tried to break free, but this man was mad with frustration and clearly had another agenda. I watched him stuff my I.D. into his pants pocket and sling each sliding door from train cart to the next open. I thought to myself that this had to be the most embarrassing thing I had ever been subjected to. People stared at me in curiosity and almost ridicule, causing me the upmost shame.

“Wait here,” the man in black ordered, and he stormed into a very elegant door with a title upon it: General August Meissner. Oh Lord, help me, I implored. It was hard to keep calm in a time like this when the Poles were an enemy for no reason other than being Germany’s smaller neighbor.

After an agonizing wait outside the bright red door, it slid open and the fat man in black yelled at me to hurry inside. I hung my head, I was terrified and nausea set in. “Polish,” a warm voice crept from the back of the room I emerged in.

“Yes, a filthy Pole.” The fat round man beside me croaked, and I furrowed my brow. Inside my head I was kicking him in the throat.

“We are in Poland, what did you expect.” The voice sounded again. I swiftly looked up; my gaze met that of a very pale and white haired man whom didn’t appear opposing whatsoever.

“Yes, I’m Polish. Please excuse my German.” I whispered.

“What are you doing here?” The general asked.

“I was hoping to visit some relatives.” I knew that if I said I was leaving the country or traveling then they would immediately arrest me.

“And why didn’t your relative buy you a ticket?”

“I lost it, sir.” He sighed and moved his booted feet from the heavy wood desk he was behind and rose from it, grooming his uniform before speaking again. “I hear many stories that Jewish imposters are boarding trains and escaping. They pretend to be regular Polish or German Catholics and escape; right from our grasp.” Now the mood changed, and so did my opinion of this now over bearing man who got closer and closer to me. The fat man that dragged me in here was smirking by the door and my nerves came back. “I have no choice but to take the necessary measures needed to keep Germany at its best.” He took out his pistol from its waist holder and cocked it. “Retrieve her bags,” he nodded to the fat Gestapo man. “You leave me no choice, so here are you options, and, I expect you to be very grateful of them. You may jump off this train right now, no harm done, or I will personally dispose of you.” Either way is a death sentence, I pondered. I hung my head again and the round short man returned with my luggage intact, throwing them at me.

“I suppose jumping will leave me with some hope.” I told the general. He grinned, while pointing to my bags with his pistol and then gesturing toward the door to exit. I reluctantly did so, shaking the entire time as I walked with a pistol barrel in my spine. I knew there was no hope, but there was faith, and I had to keep that faith in God. Thankfully, the stupid fat man wasn’t following us to ridicule me, but either way, nothing made this experience easier.

“Now, we are coming up to the train’s balcony,” the blonde general told me, removing the pistol from my back. The long trek to my fate seemed so lengthy, but I think it was all the embarrassing glares from the passengers and the thought of a gun about to rip me to shreds was what made it so long. The general pushed open the balcony door and shoved me against its iron barricade only a few feet tall. I looked around; it was just the two of us. I gazed at the landscape, solid woods and railroad track, to add to the situation, the snow was coming down harder than ever. “I will give you one minute to jump, Jüde.” The general growled in my ear. I shrugged off the “Jew” comment, because frankly, I was not one. I took a deep breath, knowing there was no way out of this mess. I prayed my shortest prayer and then stepped one foot onto the iron barricade. “Thirty seconds!” He shouted behind me, I was terrified that he would shoot me or shove me off and I’d get hung on the iron barricade. So I took a huge breath, made sure the ground was clear of rocks and trees and flung my luggage at the same time as stepping both balls of my feet onto the fence and plunging into the snow. A gun shot rang through the silence and pierced a tree just a few feet in front of me. “Auf wiedersehen, Jüde!”

 

 

Author's Note

REVISED AS OF 11/9/15

Reviews

[Ghostwriter]

Your first chapter is incredibly entertaining. You set the scene very well which keeps the reader engrossed and intrigued. I couldn't help but keep reading your chapter, wondering what was going to happen next. I liked how you made the main character yourself. The manner in which you wrote the chapter, and about the main character; evoked my thoughts and feelings in support of the main character. There were a few words in the text of the chapter which didn't belong there, this detracted from the story you were trying to convey. I never understood " he dragged me in here unwillingly," as a matter of fact, I would choose something else instead of this word, or change the sentence altogether.
The only other mistake I noticed with your vocabulary choices was the word "inconsolable", obviously the man wasn't upset, or didn't need help. Perhaps you could change it, so it makes the chapter more believable. Also, you talk about your character incredibly well, but there is no name or descriptive comments to make her more real; and the story even more convincing.
Overall, I believe you are a fantastic writer and very gifted. I enjoyed reading this chapter, and I am intending to read chapter two as well. Well Done!

[marchmadness]

I am very pleased to receive all these reviews! I am certainly in the process of revising as I have had critique on a few of the same things. I'm not going to delete this post...just rewrite it as is on this site :) thank you for taking the time to read this! And also, the "Her" post is a description of this very female character through the eyes of her soon to be best friend and soul mate :)

[sandman]

hi. no matter how bad the critiques, it can only help you write better. what i found to be sad is that most like to write but few like to read. I read a long chapter here called Mirrors of Life. This guy has written a book and is trying to get feedback before he seek a publisher. Interesting writing. I recommend you read it.

I recommend you double space your stories to make it easier and more inviting to read. you have the mind of a writer. but a good writer must review his/her own work MULTIPLE times before it is actually ready for submission.

It's good to also add a phrase about the story in your title so the reader will know beforehand what the story is about. I like the raw talent you have.

Check out the format and style in Mirrors of Life…and keep writing…believe in yourself!

[marchmadness]

This writing has been in the making since i was 12 years old...i am currently 20. It has taken me a great deal of courage and time to even post it seriously on a site like this.

I do very much appreciate your review! :) I would be humbled if you read more...also the excerpt "Her" is an explanation of the main female character of this story through the eyes of the main male, Erich: her soon to be soulmate/bestfriend.

[BobM]

This is extremely well written. From the first line, I was right there with the protagonist. The dialogue is natural and flowing, the narration descriptive and credible. If I picked up a book and read this excerpt, I would not mind buying it.

There were some adjective discrepancies, I think. I'l list what I noticed, and let you decide. In "as I erratically handed him my identity card" erratically doesn't seem to fit. In "but this man was inconsolable" inconsolable definitely doesn't fit. In "dragged me in here unwillingly" 'unwilling' is describing the fat man, who clearly was willing. If you meant to describe the protagonist as unwilling, the sentence needs to be reordered. That's all that I noticed.

I have to reiterate how entertaining this story is. I tend to believe that there are two types of stories, those that entertain(candy) and those that educate or are literary experiments(potatoes). This, I think, is candy- which is always the funnest type to read.
-Bob

[marchmadness]

i really appreciate your thoughtful review. i will be rewriting this chapter due to some errors in wording that you have brought to my attention.