the-unknown-world

Chapter 12: Lost Hopes Rekindled        The smell of burnt rubber filled his nose and Ludwig had stared after the car in disbelief.        Feliks was out of his mind.        He stormed back into the office, yanking the phone at its wire and dialing Feliks’ home number. If he were to get to you before Feliks did, maybe there was still a chance. The dial tone rang in his ear, and he waited impatiently.        “Mr. Beilschmidt! Looks like you can never get out of this boring fuckin’ job, eh?” a voice said, and he looked up to see his senior, leaning an elbow on the counter, the door still swinging behind him.  

 just stay home with me. [drabble] three o’clock sharp. He looms in the doorway like the villains you see in your Sunday cartoon shows. Your twelve-year-old eyes squint up at his large figure. “Who are you?” His eyes seem to lock with yours with an equal amount of jested suspicion. “Is your mother home? I’m a tutor.” You gaze up at him for a split second and hastily close the door, being sure to put the bolts. “_______? Who was that?” your mother comes from the living room. “Some macho man,” you call back. “Must be a mistake.” She heads to the door anyways, undoin

Chapter 9: Standing in the Pouring Rain        Feliks knew he was born in the capital of Poland, despite most of his childhood memories being the times he had spent with you, growing up in the slums of Berlin, Germany.        It was always supposed to be you, Toris, and him. The three of you were unbreakable.        But no, Toris moved back to Lithuania, the Nazis moved in, and his little world was turned on its head.        He matched their standards: blond hair, pale skin, strong built. If only it weren’t for his emerald eyes, he would pass off as the perfect Aryan. He knew that eventually, he would become a target as well. Bu

[ d i a g n o s i s ]        He doesn’t let go of your hand. Your other hand falls limp on your side, the pill box slipping through your fingers and rolling to floor of the car.        “Love, it’ll be alright.”        He is being a gentleman as he always is. As he always was.        Your restless eyes meet his. He smiles reassuringly at you, but you tear your eyes away from him.        He makes a right onto the freeway, and you wonder how he is so graceful, in the most mundane acts of life.        The concrete flies underneath the car, and you press your forehead against the glass, watching it go. You are r

Smoke Filled Room        The night is enveloped by heavy, black smoke. You dash down the street blindly, like a madman. The agonizing shouts from other victims fill your ears, and you want to block out the sound but you cannot.        You suddenly trip over an overturned chair on the sidewalk, and look to your right to see that it is the corner cafe owned by the old benevolent man. The windows are blown out from the flames, and in the distance, you can vaguely see two SS hauling the stout man into a police car.        Tears blur your vision. Even he is being taken away.        You can only pick yourself up and continue going, the smok

 Night of Broken Glass February, 1936: Berlin, Germany        He always seemed to be on your block. Sometimes, you would see him patrolling around the Jewish bank up the street. Other times, he would be standing near the corner of the block, watching traffic go by. Once, you had even bumped into him at the Jewish cafe.        You recalled that he was holding a wrapped pastry, and his eyes had flickered to yours as you mumbled an apology. You hadn’t realized it was him until you looked up and went rigid.        He had muttered an apology to you and made his way out, leaving you and the rest of the customers inside the cafe stunned

 Unexpected Savior        You wake to the feeling of warmth you have not felt in a long time. You nestle deeper into the unfamiliar blankets and pillows until the realization hits you and your eyes snap open. Pulling a hand out of the blanket, you look to see that your fingertips are cracked with red, blistering sores. Fearfully, your eyes dart around the room.        The place is well-furnished. A fireplace is heated from burning redwood, and the sofa you are lying on is made of a deep red velvet; the frame pure ebony. The curtains of the window are open, and through it you can see the storm still raging outside. A brass coat rack stands

 Growing Snowstorm        The bitter cold swept icy gusts of wind through the panels of the walls. You huddle in front of an oil-lit lamp, placing your stinging hands near the exterior, desperately trying to warm yourself. From the outside, the antique store looks nothing like what it used to be. Its faded sign, beaten walls, and graffitied windows has reduced it to the appearance of a liquor store.        In fact, you would probably make more money selling spirits than antiques. At least there was a constant supply of people needing a drink to drown their worries.        You glance across the room and towards the window, from the corne

 Prologue “For the dead and the living, we must bear witness.” - Elie Wiesel November, 1935: Berlin, Germany        It is only in such tranquil moments like this that you could enjoy yourself. The shadows from the late evening sun dance along the old walls of your shop. You sigh dreamily, content despite the fact that the plaster is peeling off the walls, that business has been dropping, and that you are alone.        Yes, you loved your antique shop. A shop filled with mysteries and wonders, trinkets dating back to the eighteen-hundreds. A porcelain set rests inside a glass counter, the one you are leaning your arms against

                                                            War on Love: Germany x Reader [P16]        “Attention all passengers. We will be arriving in Munich in about twenty minutes. Please remain fastened as we begin to descend. Today’s weather in Munich is sixty-five degrees; it is indeed a lovely day.”        You shifted in your seat and turned to the window, sliding up the cover and nearly blinding yourself with the flood of light that streamed in. The city below you was a vast sea of red and beige buildings. You smiled and leaned back into your seat.        After a year of correspondence, you had finally settled