"Herr Rafael, looky here!"
"Herr, watch what this does."
"Ooh! Herr Rafael, come look at this!"
Rafael's name was called out left, right and centre. He hobbled to and fro, clicking his cane and nodding briefly at each of the frescreet's inventions.
He had never seen his village in such a state. The entire ground was littered with wood, wrappers and discarded materials. The houses were covered in mess and the doors were left wide open. There was not a moment uninterrupted by hammer strike or metal clashing or even laughter.
Rafael was loving it.
Since leaving the main frescreet clan, Rafael had never seen such productivity. His frescreets had been lazy, doing no more than they absolutely had to and never straying from their daily routines. But in that last hour or so, he had seen it all change. It was as if his tribe had left for the forest depths and another had come to replaced it. The shine in their glassy eyes had been renewed, now beaming out of their bright faces like candles.
*
Next time you are stuck in an isolated forest with nothing to do for several hundred years,
maybe then you will be able to understand how they felt.
Rhapsodic.
Crazed.
Mad.
*
From over a kilometre away, Florence could hear it. The sound of toiling hands. There was no doubt in her mind that it was the village, so she hurried on, running. As she got closer, the cacophony grew, symphonies of ripping metal and hammering wood.
Rafael met her at the edge of the clearing. In silence, they stood and watched the havoc before them. It wasn't that there was nothing to say, they just couldn't hear each other. Florence scanned over the village, observing her pieces of rubbish being turned into something better. Something useful. The uses the frescreets found for some of it amazed her.
Rafael tugged at her hand and Florence bent down to him. He tip toed up to shout into her ear.
"I now realise that I never thanked you for all of your work. We may just survive a few more years now." Florence nodded in response. 'A few years' didn't really capture her confidence, one hundred years maybe, but not 'a few'.
The cult
30th July 1939
The scavenging saga was over and the village was up to date with Florence's world. There were gadgets scattered all around the clearing, some half-finished or forgotten. Each house had its own set of unique stove designs, toilet systems and even blankets on the new beds. Along with the little inventions, scraps of metal and wood were scattered on the ground, hiding the carpet of green.
*
Even after all Florence had brought him,
Rafael only saw what she hadn't.
Trust me,
Florence realised.
It made the anger froth up inside her.
What was in this for her?
What does she get back?
What was her prize?
Nothing.
Just like her sister,
she didn't fit in.
They couldn't turn a blind eye on Rafael's motives just because he was the leader.
They weren't like the rest.
Why?
It seems that,
despite the similarities,
all creatures are different in one way or another,
frescreets and humans are no exception.
*
The village was nearly deserted, the frescreets were all in the forest, praying and worshipping like the do every few days. Florence had never been to one of their gatherings, having never been invited. She felt like she couldn't just turn up either, it would be like walking in on someone in the shower. They all said it was a religion, but Florence had a feeling it was more of a cult. Each time they returned, Florence noticed that one or two of them would be holding a dead rabbit, eyes gauged out and legs broken. She decided not to ask.
This time, when the first frescreet re-emerged from the tree line, a sudden movement caught her eye. Sure enough, there she was, the strawberry haired girl, creeping out from a nearby bush.
*
Grace never went to the rituals either.
It disgusted her.
Besides,
she felt like she would be betraying her old self.
No matter what,
she wouldn't to let go of the human she once was.
Change and isolation is painful,
but never as painful as being held where you don't belong.
*
The silence was too loud
3rd July 1939
Ben and Florence took Lisette back to the town centre several times. Each time was similar to the last.
Less and less people, more and more neglect.
Everywhere they turned, there was nothing. Nothing but the muddy gutters and dirt ridden cobblestones. The silence of the street wasn't peaceful. It was lonely. Lisette longed for someone to come out and recognise her, to talk to her like before, to crack a joke and laugh. But of course, she only had Ben and Florence with their jokes so bad that they made her laugh.
"Knock knock."
"Aargh!" Quite often it only got that far.
On some of the cooler days, when the sun was turning, the sky would be cloudless. Lisette swore that she could see the whole universe, laid out before her eyes just for her. Her eyes would glisten, speckled with the candles in the sky, glimmering on her unformed tears. The candles in the sky flickered and danced, some yellow, some white.
*
See?
Even the stars have their own fires.
The strongest ones too.
No amount of inhumanity can douse their flame.
It's a good thing there were stars on earth too.
There still are.
*
The stars burned so bright that her eyes watered. She couldn't stop staring, the image of them remained imprinted on her eyelids when she finally closed her eyes.
The stars were peaceful and Lisette was jealous. She wanted silence, she wanted peace.
Poor Lisette, in two months, the stars would be shot out of the sky and she would forget the words silence and peace had ever existed.
Two months. Nine weeks. Sixty two days. One thousand, four hundred and eighty hours. War.
Something confusing
3rd July 1939
*
Regrets.
I have a few.
But of course,
not many.
There are thousands,
maybe millions of things that I have done that even you wouldn't agree with.
But to be honest,
I don't really care whether you agree with me or not.
Everything I do is for a cause.
Now,
you may have misunderstood.
I don't control you.
Well not entirely.
But I do help you to control yourself.
No,
I am not a God.
At least I don't think so.
But I am above you.
Right now.
Don't bother looking up,
you won't see me.
We aren't meant to be seen,
it spoils the show.
Confused?
Good.
I'll admit that I do enjoy having the upper hand.
You will understand soon enough.
But for now,
enjoy your innocence.
I envy you.
Actually,
I don't.
But sometimes I wish someone could make some decisions for me.
I change lives every day.
Or deaths,
depending on which way you look at it.
While I'm at it,
take a moment.
Think about your past day.
Sorry.
And,
you're welcome.
Just try to focus on the 'you're welcome' part.
I think you'll find that we wi
ll get on much better that way.
*
Jealous?
8th July 1939
The coins jangled in their pockets each time their left foot hit the road.
"...Frau Walburga will. But as soon as I find someone else, I'll resign from her stupid laundry."
"Why don't you resign now? You could still come work with me at Salzwedel's."
"Ben, you know that both he and I won't say yes. I can't, I couldn't do all the hours anyway." Ben wanted so badly to ask once again what she was doing all those hours alone. Many things had played at his mind, each as far from the truth as he could get.
He had thought of all the obvious possibilities. Maybe she wanted time alone, maybe it was just part of being a girl or maybe she was just crazy? But of course, the thought that sat in his mind the most was that she was going to see someone. Someone special. More special than him. The thought sent prickles along his arms. A boy? A boyfriend? Of course, as soon as he would think of it, he would snort and call himself stupid, but that didn't stop the idea from plaguing him.
Instead, he said this.
"Ja, I know. But seriously, what are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure Ben, I'll probably try looking for something in town again."
"Alright, we'll look for something."
"When?"
"Now. Okay?"
"Alright."
The rough road turned into the loosely paved walkway and they strolled past all the familiar shop windows.
"Hey Flory." Ben said. "What about here? You're good with a needle aren't you?" Florence shrugged, unconvinced. With a bag half full of flour, butter, meat and a few vegetables, Florence and Ben walked back through the street, staring into each of the shops.
"I don't know Flory, you haven't liked anything so far. Where else can we look?"
"I don't know Ben, but I think I just want to go home for now. Okay?" Ben nodded.
"Alright."
Master Krämer the Willi
12th July 1939
Her decision was final. It would be the grocer's shop.
The pay was terrible and the food would tease her no end, but the decision was final.
Florence would begin work in one week and she couldn't wait. Not because she enjoyed packing vegetables or serving impatient customers, but because it would mean her time with Frau Walburga would be over. That was the only reason she was leaving, her employer. Her selfish temper had finally worn through Florence's last thread. The grocer's was just about as good as anywhere else, as long as it was away from Frau Walburga.
The sweet smell of pumpkins and oranges mocked Florence as she lay down the letter on the grocer's counter.
"Guten tag, I wish to speak with Herr Krämer." The greying man behind the counter ruffled his beard before replying.
"Of course, I will get Herr Krämer. But he is very important and doesn't like silly nonsense." he nodded and disappeared into the door behind him. Florence shook her hands uncomfortably.
"Aah, is this must be the mere mortal wishing to take up my precious time with her silly letters." The man with the greying beard re-entered the room, suppressing a snort. Seeing the expression on the girl's face, he cracked. "Sorry!" he spat out between spouts of laughter. "I couldn't resist, yeh were like you're at a funeral or somthin'." Florence forced a laugh, nodding slowly as if she understood.
"Anyway, I'm Wilhelm, call me Willi though. Oh, and don't bother with all tha' Herr Krämer business." This was the first time Florence had been spoken to as an equal by an adult. It was the strangest thing, but it suited her just fine.
"So, Willi, um, basically, I'm here to apply for a job at your grocery shop."
"Sure. Have you eaten any fruit or vegetables before?"
"Well, ja."
"Can you count to twenty?"
"Ja, of course."
"Do you promise to laugh at my jokes no matter how much it may kill you?"
"Alright."
"Gut. You're in..."
"Florence."
"Florence. Welcome to my palace. Please, never wipe your shoes before entering. You might get the floor clean." Florence looked down at the filth covered floor, a bit of squashed mushroom stuck to her shoe.
"Of course, master Krämer." she said, bowing.
Willi showed Florence around the tiny shop, brushing over all the details.
Frau Walburga was quickly fading to no more than a memory.
The happy, sad case
13th July 1939
"Willi?"
"Hello Florence!" he boomed, spreading his arms wide and patting Florence hard on her back. "Yeh ready? Today's gonna be a shocker, queues all the way down the street."
"Really?" a nervous chill ran through her.
"Nah, not really. We'll be lucky to have three customers."
"Oh." Willi wasn't wrong. Throughout the entire day, only two people came in, one of them was Ben dropping in to say hello. The other was one of the richest people in town. She stalked in and out of the shop, clicking her heels on the floor as loudly as she could.
Often Florence wondered whether she should have stayed with Frau Walburga, but just as often that thought would be forgotten when Willi cracked another of his pathetic jokes. The wrinkles beside his eyes that went with his smile made even her empty pockets and the empty shop worth it. It was so genuine.
"Willi?"
"Ja Florence?"
"Will it always be like this? I mean, we've only sold three apples and five carrots so far."
"Oh, nein. As soon as the weekend comes we'll have tha' queue I mentioned 'afore. You wait and see." Florence nodded, highly doubtful but she accepted his answer anyway. "Well, that's it for the day. See yeh here in the morn' then." he said as he pulled the rolling door down on the darkened shop. As usual, the trundle tables were half full of sad looking fruit and vegetables, neglected and unchosen.
"Ja Willi. See you in the morning." Florence waved and began walking away from the grocery shop.
"Hey, you've got a naked bum!"
"Pardon?"
"I said, you've got your apron on!"
"Oh, danke. I thought you said... Never mind."
The apron was returned and Florence left again, leaving Willi by his shop grinning, laughing at his own joke.
'Oh Jesus Willi, you're a sad case aren't you?' He thought to himself.
*
It was people like Willi that I have the most trouble with.
They try so hard to do things differently.
When everyone is down,
they'll be cracking jokes in the thick of it.
When everyone is fleeing for their lives,
they'll be struggling back the other way,
going back to distract the fear creator.
When everyone is trembling in their shoes,
they'll be singing at the top of their lungs,
shouting at fear itself.
When everyone is dying,
they'll be pulling themselves around,
handing out food and laughter.
Sometimes I think they are idioten.
Sometimes I think they are helden.
But I always know they are erforderlich.
Necessary.
*
Full pockets
16th July 1939
*
All of her plans were coming together.
Finally making sense.
Looking likely.
Grace felt more and more prepared by the day.
Soon she would just be waiting for Florence to give her the right opportunity.
She knew she would find a way to help her sister.
But what she didn't know was that it wouldn't be by her plans.
Not by a long shot.
Not even close.
*
Sometimes on weekends, Willi's children would run around the grocery shop, climbing between the legs of the trundle tables and often spilling the contents of shopping baskets. Their rosy cheeks lit up l
ike lanterns in the room full of grey faced adults. The street-long queues Willi had promised had been a bit of an exaggeration. Nevertheless, for the entire weekend, Florence was kept busy, never leaving the shop until sundown. By Sunday night, there were only a few pieces of food left on each table, mouldy or rotten. The cash register was as full as it ever would get, as were Florence's pockets. Two handfuls of coins were stuffed into her skirt pockets, the blue material bulging in odd ways.
When the sun had begun to descend, Willi had divided the money. A pile for him and a smaller pile for Florence. Being Willi, he had snuck a few extra coins into Florence's pile, knowing she wouldn't knowingly accept it. And, being Willi, he had no money plan. No weekly pay schedule, no annual earnings tally. Whatever landed in the cash register would be out again before the next day. He never got the chance to find out just how little he earned in total. He gave himself no chance to find out just how meagre the income was.
"Papa!" little yells could be heard over the humming racket in the shop. "Papa, get him off me!"
"Hey, she started it, I had nothing to do with it!" The sound and sight of his children nearby was enough to make Willi's face glow. His eyes would turn a shade brighter and a few extra teeth showed in his smile.
"Hey, come back here!" he would shout, chasing his children around the tables at the days end. "Dino Papa is hungry for naughty little children."
*
The cane thudded dully on the dirt floor. Wearing just a sack-like rag, Rafael clambered into bed. The new sheets from Florence covered his transparent skin.
As usual, sleep didn't pay a visit. It was busy with the people who deserved it. Instead, he lay on his bony back, staring at the ceiling.
Just like Grace, his mind was set on escape plans.
Unlike Grace, his was set on foiling them, not creating them. Hundreds of possibilities crossed his mind, none of them seeming likely. Just like always, his heart quickened, annoyance taking over.
"How is it that I, a frescreet, the most intelligent creature on earth, cannot outwit a silly little human?" He growled under his breath. He cursed and swore until sleep finally took pity on him and silenced his train of thought.
Understand?
20th July 1939
Lisette flashed Florence one of her toothy smiles as she walked in.
"I heard you got a new job."
"Ja, I did. The pay is still terrible but Willi, the shop owner, is fantastic." Florence smiled in return.
Florence push Lisette along the tree line for a while, without Ben this time. The tree shadows, distorted and lengthened, covered their bodies, a slight relief from the sun. The wheelchair struggled over the thick grass, the green blades getting stuck in the spokes.