Verdun

Another story of Samantha Haine.

The bombs shot up black mud and bones.

She thought sometimes, when she first wakes in the night, that it was a storm. She rises from her bed and walk across the hall, sometimes even knock on the door before she remembered no one was there. Then it would all come back.

She would remember that it was a storm. Made of iron and blood.

Her village was along the River Meuse, a mere mile from the city of Verdun. It was once a bright place, a place where her friends would play. She stole her first kiss only a street away. She would smell flowers at Madam Dupont's shop a few streets away. She used to sit on the front steps with her wooden doll, Marie.

That was when she knew what her world was.

Papa had gone off to fight the Germans. He hadn't done a very good job. They were right next door.

She could hear them speak, usually about home...someone they lost...the war.

Sometimes...she'd hear them speak about women.

That was why she'd stayed hidden those three weeks. She'd wanted warmth, food; but she knew the Germans would have nothing but pain for her. It was easy to stay hidden. The front of her house was gone, as were the stairs leading up to her room.

She'd been trapped upstairs ever since.

The first few days were difficult. She'd watched as the rats took their fill, devouring what little was left of her mother. She'd been in the front when the house had been destroyed. Any time she looked down at the hole that had been their living room, she could still see her hand jutting from the rubble, even though the rats had long since carried it off. She'd shed silent tears as she'd watched it all happen, too terrified to look away.

Once they'd gotten their fill of her mother, they turned their attention to her.

She had a piece of wood to hit them with, but she was so weak and her aim was not the best. When she slept, they would gnaw at her feet, her face and fingers. She would bleed for days.

She learned to go without sleep.

Things changed on the third day. She was taught from a very early age to believe the third day was the day Christ rose from the grave, come forth to save the world from damnation. Her third day brought forth a very different savior.

The rats had been quiet that night, so silent she'd wondered if they may have died. She'd sat in her bed, listening to the quiet, as even the bullets had ceased for the night. Her curiosity morphed into terror as what must have been hundreds or perhaps thousands of the little beasts began scurrying as fast as they could away from the house.

The Germans had invaded her village by then, and several were positioned next door. Even they stopped what they were doing to watch the rats flee the broken house and leap into the river.

The reason for their sudden exodus revealed itself to her. It slithered down the exposed piping in the wall, a large black coil of muscle with a will of its own.

She froze as it slithered onto the floor, its movements aimed squarely at her.

It was so dark and the beast so black she had to follow its movements by trailing its eyes. They seemed to glow in the night, reflecting what little light there was like a cat's eyes. It was slow, and there was something in its mouth.

The great snake approached her, drifting into a ray of moonlight.

It raised its body up and dropped the creature from its mouth. It was the largest dead rat she had ever seen, easily the size of a large kitten. But to her, it meant more...she had not eaten in three days. She looked at the snake and it stared right back. Slowly, her eyes drifting between the snake and the rat, she reached out for the dead thing. Equally fearing being struck by both snake and rat, she gently pushed the rat before swiftly withdrawing her hand.

It remained dead.

She threw caution to the wind and grabbed the little fiend, clawing into the rat with her bloody, mangled fingers. It was easier to do than she expected. The fur seemed to rip off like fruit from the vine. As muscle and flesh were torn and exposed, she wondered if she could dare to start a fire.

Her blood had intermingled with the creature. No sooner had she thought this than that blood began to boil, producing a sizzling sound and a smell that threatened to drive the young girl girl. Soon, the rat was cooked and she ate greedily, suckling on the meat and ingesting every drop of blood she could. It was horrid, tough and grimy, but above all else, it was food.

A sound echoed from the lower floor.

She paused her meal, listening carefully. There were men's voices downstairs. Germans, investigating the strange occurrence. In her eagerness to eat, she had lost track of the snake that had fed her. She scurried to the corner, hiding close to her bed hopefully out of view, certain she was about to be struck.

"Listen!"

She whimpered. One of the Germans had heard her.

They ascended one-by-one, reaching the second floor despite the lack of stairs. She heard them step into the hallway, just outside her room and her parents' room. There were three of them, too many to hide from. If they went for her parent's room first, that would give her a chance to run. She'd considered leaping from her window to the street below, but had never had the courage to do so. After hearing what she had heard from the German's through the night, she was willing to risk it.

Her door opened.

Merde, she thought.

Dressed in those awful uniforms with the spear-tipped hats, the three mustached soldiers crept slowly into the room, their rifles leveled as they explored. For a moment, nudged between the wall and the bed, she wondered if she would escape their attention. In the end, the one in front spotted her.

He stared at her for a moment, obviously stunned. He spoke in German to his companions, words that she hadn't become accustomed to yet. The men lowered their rifles and relaxed, but were clearly ready in case she tried anything.

"Little girl," the German in front spoke in poor French, "It safe, now. You safe. Come with us."

She shook her head.

The man spoke again, but this time, she wasn't listening. Her eyes had been drawn by a shape sliding along the ceiling, one she had seen before. It reached a spot in the center of the three soldiers and seemed to look at her. She couldn't explain what happened next, not for a great many years, but when the snake looked at her, she began to breathe freer. It felt like...chocolate.

"Little girl?" she broke eye contact from the snake and turned her gaze on the German. He was staring at her, his hand outstretched.

"We have food," he spoke again, "Please."

She couldn't say what made her do it, at least not then. She didn't know what a Familiar was. Slowly, she rose from the floor and stood, her eyes locked on the German in front of her. He smiled.

The snake lowered itself from the ceiling swiftly, almost too fast for her to track. Its tail remained securely fastened to the ceiling somehow, giving it all the hold it needed for its task. It lunged, its fangs bared, shining in the dim moonlight as it latched onto the first German. He cried out in pain, his face betraying his pain as venom rapidly entered his bloodstream before hitting his heart and brain. He didn't have long enough to die from the venom; the beast simply picked him up and flung him through the open window, casting him down to the street below where he broke his neck. He would struggle to breathe for a few tortured moments as the poison flowed through his veins, shutting down organs until his windpipe finally failed underneath the weight and the damage.

The snake lunged twice more, striking the Germans in rapid succession. They moved to fight, but were much too slow to do anything. The snake pumped venom into their blood and threw them each outside the window, where they joined their brother in arms, never to see their fatherland again.

Things got better for her after that. She was never afraid of rats, of Germans or the cold again. The snake brought her their food, what little food they had, and somehow she knew she could cook it. She knew how. The snake would bring her small piles of wood and paper to make fire with, and somehow she could always do it. All it took was a drop of blood, and warmth was hers.

The nights when the fighting lit the dark like lightning were usually the worst, but those were the nights her new companion made things survivable. She would curl up in her bed, all the filthy, stinking blankets gathered around her, shielding her from the dust that would come down from the ceiling. The snake would slither up into the blankets and curl around her body, an oddly warm coil of muscle that kept her safe in the dark.

The fighting worsened over the weeks. Iron and men rained down around her, but her home remained untouched. During the day, she would read the same books, over and over. She would eat when her friend brought her food. She played with Marie. She imagined Marie would wake up and fly her away, perhaps to her father...if he were still alive. Maybe to her uncle in Bordeaux. Or to a castle in the skies.

Not the last one, not often. That was for children.

Verdun was dying. She wasn't. Someday, she would escape. She would leave the city to the Germans, or to her people, or to God himself, she couldn't care less. Whoever took the city could have it. All she wanted was to escape.

Three weeks. That was how long it took her to leave.

It started off like any other morning: gray and brown, with dank water and the smell of gunpowder hovering in the air. She'd gathered water from the bucket she set on in the hall, collecting it from the rains they had. She had some leftover cat and drank the water, deciding what book she would like to read first for the day.

"Move up!"

She froze. This had happened several times during her time in her home, of course. German soldiers moved through her village to the line closer to Verdun, where the fighting was truly fierce. But it never failed to scare her.

"Stand!"

That word truly made her stop what she was doing. She couldn't catch the rest of the German, but she did know that anytime a soldier said that word, it meant they were there to stay. Staying meant she would have to be extra quiet, and that her friend would take a longer time to bring fresh food for her. She knew how tough this day would be, and hoped it would be over quickly.

She made sure her chair was positioned against the door, just in case, and risked a look along the street from her window. The three soldiers from before were there, rotting away. She had kept the window shut ever since, trying to keep the smell out. Most days, she couldn't, but she knew other things could.

She wished immediately that she hadn't risked a look. Several soldiers had found the bodies and were checking them over. One of them had just happened to be looking up. He saw her and stared at her. She stared back, too scared to move. Her friend was out there, somewhere. She needed her snake, now.

The way he stared at her...

He said something to his friend she couldn't understand, and the two stepped away. She grabbed her piece of wood and sat at the edge of the bed, her head bent down in thought.

Something bad was about to happen to her.

After the past three weeks, she had gotten a sense for when those things would happen. It was terrifying, being without her friend. She hadn't realized how dependent on the snake she'd become over the past few weeks. Without her friend, when that soldier stepped in, she would probably...

She heard a thump outside her door. It was time.

"Open the door," came the command, in perfect French.

She stood up and lifted the board. She would not go down without a fight.

The German soldier kicked the door down with one kick. The wood had suffered from the shelling and the chair was never the best, so she wasn't surprised. He paused as he found her standing, a piece of wood in her hand, staring at him with dead eyes.

The soldier stared back at her for a long moment, contemplating what to do. She couldn't describe what happened next quite accurately. He seemed to...blur in front of her, like he was something off in the distance that she wasn't looking directly at. When his image cleared, he no longer wore the uniform of a German soldier. He was dressed in simple brown pants, a white shirt with suspenders to hold them up. He wore a flat cap and had a full beard whereas before he had been clean shaven.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, again in perfect French, "I didn't mean to scare you. I am Cooper. I'm here to take you away from this."

"No," she muttered, "You're here to...hurt me."

"Only if you don't comply."

"Why should I?"

"Because very soon, this village will be wiped from the face of the Earth."

A sound, a light thump, resounded behind her. She refused to turn her back on the intruder, but also had the notion she knew what it was. She felt herself relax as the familiar sensation of scales caressed her legs, climbing up along her body until his head came to rest on her shoulder, raised with fangs exposed to handle the threat 'Cooper' presented.

His face was a presentation of confusion, but it quickly gave way to certainty.

"A Familiar," he noted, "No wonder Lord Black sensed you. Verdun is no place for one of yours."

He stepped forward and the snake hissed, only to silence itself when he suddenly bent his knee to look her in the eye.

"I am a servant of the Lords' Court. I have been charged to escort you to Reykjavík to present yourself before the Court. You will, of course, be treated to the very best dining and clothing."

She didn't trust this man. He spoke too well for an obvious foreigner, and spoke of Lords and a place she'd never heard of before. He had magic in him, some kind at least. That alone frightened her. But in retrospect, she realized her relationship with the snake and her ability to create fire would have had her burned at the stake mere decades ago, perhaps even currently should the soldiers find her. She glanced to the serpent along her shoulder, her only companion over the past three weeks through the desolation of Verdun. The beast returned her gaze, fangs receding and mouth closing, calmed by her mere gaze.

She couldn't explain it to anyone. Not ever. But in that instant, she felt calm and confident. She knew what to do.

"Alright, Cooper," girl and snake turned to face him as she spoke, "Lead the way."

"Very good, Ms. Haine" the man rose to his feet, "Lord Black expects you by tomorrow, so we must hurry. We shouldn't disappoint her."

Samantha Haine paused for a last look around her room. The layers of dust, the grim outside were meaningless in here. This place had been her refuge, her one place for peace in a world tearing itself apart. It would be a part of her, never forgotten for the rest of her life.

She glanced down at her doll, Marie.

Without looking away, she reached up and stroked the snake on her shoulder. She had no need for Marie anymore. She had no need for this room anymore. She had no need for Verdun anymore.

There were no colors here, nothing worth remembering. Only mud and bones.

Author's Note

Verdun was one of the most terrible battles in the history of mankind. Lasting from Feb 21st to Dec 18th, 1916, it claimed the lives of more than 700,000 men. Samantha Haine was one of the survivors.

Reviews

[richieb]

A very interesting and sometimes graphic story of Samantha Haine's. A very different look at her through the eyes of a young girl. I remember from the first story she been around for 300 years, for a moment I was a little confused. The story is good but I don't think it flows like the story when she encounters Mr. Black. This setting and her being a young girl doesn't offer the ruthlessness of her power and personality. Looking forward to learning of her origin. Richie.

[Jesse W.]

She's about a hundred years old at the point of the previous story. This is more of an origin for her, and she does not have a good beginning, she's been through some trauma. That was what I was aiming for, but I will be doing some more stories from her life, at least two. Thanks for the review!

[ZJC]

Hey man, you know how much I love historical settings like this, and with fantasy sprinkled in, a story I really enjoyed.

I'd just look over and do some fine tuning with editing. Like the sentence here:

'She rises from her bed and walk across the hall, sometimes even knock on the door before she remembered no one was there.'

Just read this sentence out loud and make it flow together more smoothly.

Or this sentence below here:

'The snake would bring her small piles of wood and paper to make fire with, and somehow she could always do it.'

I fall into the trap of using 'would' and 'could' a bunch a times as well. Perhaps start out the sentence such as 'The snake brought her small piles of wood and paper to make fire with...'

Otherwise, the story grabs the readers attention from the beginning. Love the historical background with WW1 mixed with the fantasy aspect. Truly an entertaining piece of writing.

[Emily]

I really like this!!
Very good story!
Keep it up!!

[Jesse W.]

Thanks Emily!