Florence was ready to surrender herself when Frau Fitz called from her kitchen. The overweight strawberry picker straightened up slowly and waddled back inside. He gladly accepted the ten o'clock work break and welcomed the hot meal that would soon add to his stomach bulge.
Florence nearly jumped up and danced around the strawberries, but she followed Ben instead, stealthily sprinting out the garden gate.
Probably a wiser decision.
*
"Well, I'm sorry Benjamin, but I am never ever going borrowing with you again." The pair were strolling back along the tree line, both with bright red stains around their mouths and strawberries in their hands. Ben bit into a juicy one and it sprayed up his nose and all over his cheeks.
"Aagh." he wiped away the juice with the back of his sleeve. As usual, he was consuming his prize immediately, getting rid of the evidence.
But this time he didn't enjoy it. He no longer found satisfaction in knowing his belly was full. In that past year, he had seen so many hungry people. They would be more deserving of a meal than a thief, too. His town's increasing poverty and lack of food had awoken him. He wasn't the only one suffering. He now refused to add to the hunger. "Well Florence, that is quite all right. You know what? I'm gonna stop as well, too stressful, yeh know?" He found it was easier to lie about his reasons than to be truthful. His emotions and thoughts were confusing and he didn't want to confuse them more by saying them aloud.
"Finally." Florence replied.
Forgetting
23rd May 1938
Monday arrived again, the uninvited guest at the party, as always. Florence dragged herself out of bed and pulled her dress over her head. Her brain was fuzzy, like the insides of her socks.
With a piece of rather stale bread in hand, she sauntered out the door and down the street. The air was suffocated in a thick layer of fog, Florence's eyes were choked for vision.
She had no patience for silly talk that morning so she walked straight past Ben's house, hoping he wasn't at the window. A pang of guilt struck her but she walked on. The strange objects had been gnawing on her thoughts and she couldn't take much more. Sometimes frustrations are taken out on anything in the way. It's nothing personal, just unfortunate. Ben happened to be in the way that morning.
Greta met Florence at the school gate, her curly hair pulled into one plait that flopped over her shoulder.
"Guten morgen. Where's Ben?"
"I don't know, I, um, I had to go another way today." she lied.
Greta tugged Florence away, bounding up to the rest of the girls.
While Florence ignored the girls talking about silly things like their hair and jumped rope, Ben raced down the hill. He had a stitch in his side and an ache in his chest. Florence had never left without him before. Had she forgotten?
Florence looked up as the school gate was flung open and a red, puffing boy stormed in. Ben marched over to Florence and pulled her away by the wrist.
"Ouch, let go of me."
"Why didn't you wait for me?" Everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring over at Florence and Ben. Some held skipping ropes, some were frozen on one leg, mid step. Florence blushed, and turned back to Ben.
"It's really not that big a deal."
"Ja, it is. I could have been kidnapped, or mugged, or..." People were sniggering and smirking behind hands, whispering in others ears.
"I just needed some space, that’s all."
"You could have told me!" he hissed. Florence rolled her eyes.
"Seriously Ben, grow up! I just wanted to walk by myself."
"Whatever." Ben walked away, throwing dirty looks over his shoulder. Florence rolled her eyes again. Ben could be so immature. It really wasn't that bad.
Was it?
The school bell rang and everyone filed into the hallway, giggling and spreading rumours.
Soon everyone knew what had happened. Except now, it had apparently been a fist fight, ending in bloody noses and big bruises.
*
The power of it.
Word of mouth.
Yet another thing that never ceases to amaze me.
They can turn a drop of a pin into an earthquake.
Guess who makes it happen?
You.
Be careful.
*
With hot cheeks, Florence slipped onto her chair, sliding down below her desk. Ben walked in, ignoring Florence and looking the other way.
Frau Baasch stormed in next, prompt as ever. Strangely, she marched straight over to Ben. Florence braced herself for the shouting, but it didn't come. Instead, Frau Baasch spoke in a hushed voice to Ben who was nodding slowly, the surprised creases on his face slowly flattening out. Florence could only make out snatches of the conversation, but those few snatches were enough.
"...leave at the end of the term...find a job..."
After a few more exchanged words, Frau Baasch straightened up and faced the class of curious students. Her face was as puckered as ever. The class fell instantly silent and out came the chalk.
For what seemed like hours, Florence ducked her head and copied endless pages of inky words, each written down with decreasing care.
When the bell finally rang, she let out a colossal sigh and joined the flow of students trickling out the door.
"Hey Ben," Leroy the big nosed boy called, "Happy Birthday! How old? Fifteen? "
"Nah. Sixteen."
"Oh thats right. You're held down, right?"
"Mmm."
"Well, Happy Birthday."
The penny dropped, just like Florence's stomach.
'Dummkopf!' she shouted inside her head. Of all days to walk alone she chose this one. Not only had she abandoned him on his birthday, but she had completely forgotten about it. Never had she felt worse.
In previous years Florence was always got up at five in the morning to scrape together a present, or to organise their class to sing him happy birthday. On his 12th birthday, Florence had bought him a big bar of chocolate. She had been saving up for months, scavenging any discarded coins from the roadside.
'How the heck did I forget? Verdammt! What's wrong with me?'
"What is wrong with me?" Florence worried aloud, leading to panic, leading to complete hysteria. “Maybe I'm changing? Maybe I'm not just having a bad day, maybe I'm changing for good. Or rather, for worse. Florence the selfish. Oh God no. No.”
*
Florence the selfish?
Unlikely.
*
"Ben!" Florence ran up to the stony faced boy. His developing features stood out from his pale face. "I'm so sorry. I've been such a dummkopf! I completely forgot about your birthday and I am so, so sorry. I promise that I will remember in future. Actually I'll never forget again. I promise. Also, sorry about getting angry at you before. Please forgive me!" Ben couldn't hold back a grin.
"What? What's so funny?"
"Your face looks so ridiculous! You're so serious! And ja, of course I forgive you!" Florence quickly wiped the look off her face and smiled at her friend.
"Danke." They grinned at each other with teeth scattered about their mouths, beaming.
"Oh! I know!" Florence dashed off, deserting Ben in the middle of the school yard. He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. So far that day had been nonsense. Literally making no sense at all. A little more of the craziness wouldn't hurt.
Florence half skipped, half ran down the corridor. She rummaged through her old and battered leather satchel and extracted a long strip of chewing gum. She suppressed a cheer and strode back down the corridor, clutching her slightly savaged and rock hard prize in her hand.
Three years ago, when she was eleven, Florence had stolen a stick of chewing gum from a fancy sweets shop. Ever since she took it, she stored it away in the bottom-most part of her bag. The treasure had been completely forgotten. With the gum bundled up in her cardigan, she darted across the school yard, hoping nobody would stop her.
"What were you
doing?" asked Ben.
"Oh, you know. Stuff." Ben raised his eyebrows a little, but shrugged it off, pretending not to know it was to do with his birthday.
Both of their chests heaved with the effort of the ascent. No matter how many times they climbed that mountain road, it never got easier.
"Wait, Ben, hold up." puffed Florence. She sunk to the ground by the side of the road, exhausted.
"Ja?"
Florence extracted the stick of chewing gum from her cardigan and held it out to Ben.
"Here. Happy birthday."
Florence blushed at the sight of Ben's face. He could have been given the moon and not been happier.
"Gosh. Thanks Florence. How? Wait, what? Where is this from?"
He stared at her in disbelief.
"Don't ask."
Ben lifted the latch on his garden gate and pushed it open.
"Hey Ben," Florence called out. "What did Frau Baasch want?" she asked. Ben put on a confused look. "You know, this morning."
"Oh ja, that." Ben hurried back down the path to where Florence was standing at the gate.
"Well, since I'm now sixteen and whatever, I have to leave school. You know, go get a job." he said it light heartedly but Florence noticed the fear behind his eyes. He never had coped with big changes.
Florence couldn't hide her despair either, allowing a look of upset wash over her face.
"Don't worry Flory," he said, awkwardly touching her back." We can still see each other heaps. Plus, you won't have to help me with my homework anymore. Bonus, right? Look, don't worry about it. I still have a while, until the end of term. You'll be fine, I promise." Florence nodded meekly and turned away, heading home. Her heart plummeted. How would she survive at school without Ben? He made Frau Baasch bearable. With him gone, would she really be able to face going to school?
Yes.
But barely.
Discovery three
27 May 1938
The week rolled by much faster than Florence had intended.
Ben would be leaving.
Soon.
She flopped into the arms of her rickety bed, the springs poked into her ribs as usual.
She picked up her book and watched it fall open, the bookmark uncovered.
"Hey, Flory!" The air was filled with the aroma of sweat, gas and other little children. The familiar little boy smell. "Flory! Guess what? I found another treasure!"
"Wha? What are you talking about?" She laid her book down, bothered and annoyed.
"Come see!" Oliver grabbed his sister by the wrist and pulled her out to the garden. He ran over to the fence and crouched down.
"Just a second..." He reached his hand down into the hole he had been digging and pulled out a grubby piece of cloth. "I was waiting for you, I wanted to dig it up with you." he said with a proud smile.
Florence took it in her hand and rubbed off some of the dirt. Florence screwed her nose up and threw it back onto the ground.
"Ollie, you can't touch rubbish like..." she stopped.
Was it? No, surely not.
She snatched the 'rubbish' up and ran over to a nearby puddle and washed some of the dirt off. Her suspicions were confirmed as a dolls dress emerged from the thick layer of dirt.
Florence's heart pounded in her chest. Surely this can't be a coincidence? Three dolls bits just happened to turn up?
"Flory? What is it?" Her train of thought was broken, and she quickly rushed inside.
On her bed, she lay out the three items; the broken porcelain hand, the little shoe and the most recent addition, the grubby dress.
*
As Florence stood there,
puzzling over the mystery at hand,
she was unconsciously unearthing an age old secret.
Even I didn't know the whole story,
now that's saying something.
Something very peculiar was about to happen,
more so than most things that will ever happen to you.
But of course,
she was very unaware of the unlikely events to come,
as you would be.
Florence was in for quite a shock.
*
Florence's head was filled with different explanations, none of which seemed to fit very well. 'A bird dropped parts of a doll everywhere... A little girl went on a rampage and threw her doll all over the mountainside... Everyone is throwing away their dolls at the moment...' Thoughts and ideas swam about her head, yet they all had flaws. All of the parts were different sizes and were meant for separate dolls which means a bird would have to be carrying multiple dolls, which is a bit farfetched. All the girls around here would be very lucky to get a doll, they would have to be completely insane to go around, throwing it away like that!
Florence sat down and scratched her forehead. What on earth was happening? Where were all these strange objects coming from?
The slight twinge between her brows had developed into a throbbing headache.
She left for the forest.
The fresh air called.
She kicked off her school shoes and socks, screwing her nose until the smell passed. She twisted her braids into a knot, discarded her cardigan and swung her legs out the window.
Florence ran up to the back of her garden and out through the scraggly shrubs. She entered the woods, hopping and flicking sticks off her bare feet. She walked down the usual path to her secret pool.
The trees thinned and Florence entered the familiar clearing. The elephants stomping around her skull had slowed to a standstill, only twitching in their sleep. She crossed to the water’s edge, letting the water caress her feet. She lay back and closed her eyes, sighing.
"Lovely."
The creatures
27th May 1938
Between the branches and brambles, twelve glassy eyes gazed downwards.
Set on Florence.
Their silence hung around the tree tops, wary, curious. Their fragile limbs glowed a greyish white against the pines, their tiny bodies almost transparent.
*
These are our curious creatures.
And these ones are spies.
*
The hands.
The shoes.
The dress.
Each item had come from the hands of our creatures. The frescreets. The age old mystery, forgotten between hundreds of valiant battles and victorious speeches.
Each item had been placed carefully, calculated. Each item was picked carefully, leading to an impossibly farfetched truth. It had to be Florence. She was the only one who could find them. Ever.
The frescreets thrived in isolation. Generations of their people had never seen life outside the woods. If they were to be exposed by the human race, they would be finished. They would become items of scientific observation, figures of human humour and entertainment and they would be hunted down until they were deprived of their freedom.
Dramatic?
Intense?
Humans are like that, too selfish and absorbed in their own curiosity to notice anything else.
The frescreets lived in fear of capture and that is why they went after Florence. They knew that she could protect them. They had been observing her for the past five years, having concluded that she was the perfect protector for their village.
*
Let me guess.
You want the details.
All this talk of being hunted,
is confusing you.
Who are these creatures?
Why do they need so much protection?
What on earth is going on?
Well,
keep concentrating.
I'll tell you.
*
Florence Mele grew to be one of the rare types of human. One of those people who you may only meet once in your life. Someone who is so secretly complete that you will more often than not miss them without realising.
She is one of those people who we all tell ourselves we are too, or at least who we try to c
onvince ourselves we are.
No need for detail, you can imagine it yourself. Everything you want to be, you want others to be, the world to be.
Aware.
Selfless.
Intelligent.
Kind.
You know the rest.
Florence was one of the rare humans who would be able to protect the frescreets.
Protect them without betrayal.
A Purine.
Florence the Purine.
*
Don't get me wrong,
Florence was never perfect.
Perfection doesn't exist.
But being an imperfect person living in an imperfect world,
you could say that she was a perfect example of imperfection.
*
Elin edged along the branch.
"Luca!" she whispered.
"Gehen jetzt" With a small nod exchanged, Elin edged down the tree. Luca turned to Nico and repeated the same message. Nico passed it on to Chiara, Chiara to Lars and finally to Jan. The six of them descended slowly, carefully avoiding thin sticks and other noise makers.
In a huddle behind a shrub, the frescreets once again stared at Florence. They watched her chest rise and fall with the steady rhythm of her breathing, her content smile that sweetened her face and her long hair that cascaded out behind her.
They had only positive thoughts for her, so they saw only positive things.
"You five wait here while I go and make contact. When I signal you, make yourself noticed, and come up. But you'd better go slowly or I'll have you later." Elin said in her matter of fact voice, squeezed into a raspy whisper.
"Elin?"
"What?"
"No offence or anything but, don't you think Chiara should go first? I just mean that she is good with the words and stuff and, sorry, but her face isn't quite as, yeh know, startling." Lars finished, looking away, avoiding her eyes.
"I am not impressed Lars, but you have a point. Chiara will go first and introduce us while we wait for her signal. Do you understand Chiara?" Chiara nodded and peered around the bush. One more arrow lodged itself into Elin's heart, joining the collection. Every time her cracked face and singed hair was mentioned, one more arrow joined, her confidence dribbling out the thousands of punctures.
Chiara straightened her sac-like dress and fixed her head of dirty blond locks. She stood and tip toed towards the girl.