He put his face to the glass and saw what was out there: amidst the trees and over the fence of Out-With. This time, when his eyes opened wide and his mouth made the shape of an O, his hands stayed by his sides because something made him feel very cold and unsafe. Soldiers with rifles slung across their chest; others with bayonets in the ribs of the crowd, barking at Prestissimo, like flames upon a cave. All of them: the small boys, the big boys, the fathers, the grandfathers, the uncles, were wearing the same clothes as each other: a pair of grey striped pajamas with a grey striped cap on their heads. Commencing their march. Carrying themselves as reincarnated catacombs.
“Maybe they’ll go exploring too” Bruno exclaimed to himself for self assurance. Frightened for what was just seen Bruno made his way through his room, swinging the burdensome oak door, slamming against the cracked stone wall, down the creaking planks, passing the front hall and making his way into his Father’s office. Knowing he wasn’t to enter Bruno carefully opened the door, peering around the door handle. Glaring past Father’s medals strung upon a sterling hook; pictures of war allies. Partially into the room greeted by a stoked fire and Father’s grand portrait above the mantel. Met with the harsh gaze of Father and the Fury.
“Bruno!” howled Father, “how could you disobey me like this? Leave at once!”
“Come here dear boy, Bruno is it?” asked the Fury.
Bruno nodded, approaching with fear and a tear in his eye, “who are you?” Stumbled Bruno.
“You are not to spe-“
“Now you may remain silent” snapped the Fury towards Father, squaring his chest to the Fury’s. Bruno’s glance darted around the room avoiding eye contact with the Fury.
“Do you not know who I am my dear child?”
Bruno shook his head East and West to say no; and the Fury chuckled glaring at Father.
“Well that’s okay, still glaring at Father. But you must know who your Father is. No?”
“Why are you here?”
“To restore balance to the world, with the proper people in power. No more pitiful Jews, too incompetent to claim a religion. Germany! Germany is the rightful ruler.”
Bruno leapt at the idea of Germany. It reminded him of home; his old life; strolls down the town streets on weekends being far too crowded; his friends. His three friends for life, uncertain if they would ever be re-united. Now with silence filling the room; a sparse crackle from the fire, Bruno turned his back to the men.
Written by Ben Montgomery
Nice work, Ben! You have a flair for drama.