I’m sitting in the darkness of my room, my wrinkled hands rest on my lap. The only light is the small, silver gleam that comes through the cold window pane. At least the stars find joy tonight. I stare at the blurred, faded silhouettes of each thing I love and own in this room, and realize the irony of how haunting they are in the night. Most people are afraid of the dark because they fear what they cannot see. I love the dark for the reason they hate it. If something comes to harm me in the dark, I am dead before I ever notice the fear.
In the light, I see the threat. In the light, I become the fear. In the light we I am paralyzed. In the light, I have to wait helplessly to die.
A draft in the room brings chills. I want to climb under the covers of my bed, the empty bed I no longer share. I shouldn’t get in them, but I do. I’m exhausted, but I can’t let myself fall asleep. Sleep is only being imprisoned in nightmares of things you never wanted to relive. I lie down. I recite sleep leads to nightmares, sleep leads to nightmares, sleep leads to nightmares… It doesn’t work. The bed is too comfortable, too warm, too safe. The darkness becomes deeper and it pulls me in. I’m becoming trapped. Sleep leads to nightmares, sleep leads to nightmares, sleep leads to nightmares…
I see only glimpses of women who refused to let their babies be taken before I experience a whole scene around me. Envy sparks in me. At least they had the chance. Most of us were forcibly sterilized by Geheimstaatspolizei. My offspring are considered to pollute the German race because of my African blood. I felt like a spayed animal, my body violated because my children would be diseased mutts – only deserving to be put down. My caramel skin has lost its vibrancy and looks a pale, muddy grey in the dreary sky. I see other young women whose heads, among other things, have already been shaved; their clothes have been taken, exchanged for grey jackets and striped dresses. My head is being shaved, a lifetime of long, brown/black curls and coils, forgotten. My mother told me a woman’s hair was her character, her dignity. I guess those things don’t exist here. I try to forget that I’m shivering, bare, in the cold, trying to put the sackcloths of clothing on fast, hoping to spare any modesty I still have from their onlooking eyes. A gold star protrudes on the left side of my chest. Out the corner of my eye, I noticed another young woman moving too slowly – the limp in her left leg struggling to maneuver on the campgrounds.
“Mach schnell!” spits one of the guards. Growls from an attack dog solidify the warning.
The growls become snarls, and then human screams. She couldn’t keep up.
I glance at the guard, looking for any trace of sympathy, of compassion, of humanity. None exists.
Please, spare her the pain, I pray silently.
But I have to keep walking.
Feelings of worthlessness challenge me. They question if I am just a mere existence, belonging to others but never to myself.
I learn in the blurry seconds that choices are a privilege, not a right. I remind myself of this as I am told to walk faster and I walk faster, told to stay quiet and I stay quiet, told to kill over and die, but I do have the one choice of survival. Soon, I’m ushered into a group, a rifle butted into the bones of my spine. I notice the group we make, the banner of gold “Jude” stars. They’re picking us off. Putting the undesirables together makes it easier. I give one last thought of denial that I’m not going to die. They gave us our clothing. They want us alive. The false hope doesn’t last. The soldiers would strip us of our uniforms as soon as we’re dead and hand them to the new batch of inmates.
We are shoved into large chambers, with green-blue splatters and various other stains. The smells make me nauseous sealed in behind a bolted, locked door. They are smells of pain, of suffering, of death – the annihilation of human life over and over. The fear I tried to suppress explodes inside of me. Some women are silent, others screaming, others crying, and the young girls that still have their innocence don’t understand. Shafts open in various areas of the chamber, and I know it’s not the fresh air I crave coming out. My lungs begin to sting, gasping for oxygen that doesn’t exist, but rational thought has never overpowered instincts. I start coughing and the pain radiates through my chest. Some are vomiting, some are screaming, some are using their last motions to scratch the walls and claw at their faces. The younger screams and cries die out first. I collapse into an agonized position, still consciousness but slowly feeling distant and woozy. The mocking glare of a soft overhead light only taunts me with the torturous visions around me. I start to feel a little dizzy, and my body realizes there is no reason to fight anymore. I force my eyes to focus on the light again. In the light, you see the threat. In the light, you become the fear. In the light, you are paralyzed. In the light, you wait helplessly to die.
I awaken with panicked gasps – my clothes and the covers are soaked in sweat.
Nightmares are being imprisoned in things you never wanted to relive. Sleep leads to nightmares, sleep leads to nightmares, sleep leads to nightmares…
But I’m too exhausted to keep from slipping back asleep.
Short Stories
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