| May 31, 2013 21:02:53 GMT -5 |
Post by Hettie "Munich" Gottlieb on May 31, 2013 21:02:53 GMT -5
Hettie remembered going to some town in North Ireland, coming for something or the other and not really remembering now that she was here. More likely she didn’t care to remember as it was three in the morning and she was walking on the outskirts of said town. She was a hunched walking figure on the side of a gravel road with an overly large, zipped up black hoodie, and a pair of blue skinny jeans. She walked with some kind of urgency away from the lights of the town and not caring where she ended up, because right now she really needed to walk. The nightmares had plagued her dreams to a surreal amount this month, this week.
Hettie’s heart was thumping hard against her chest, feeling as if it were tearing for a way out to escape what its master put it through. She was still making chocked sobbing noises as she trotted down the street. She could remember the blurs of color all too well, the sound of Ludwig barking orders, and the terror of air raids. The sound of the wounded screaming with deafening shrills and the smell of bright red fluid that painted the streets in the hot afternoon suns. The smell of decaying bodies as you crawled over them, and the feel of your knife going through a man’s body. It wasn’t something easily forgotten.
Hettie would feel dirty if she did forget, it would feel like a sin. She knew she would not be forgiven in the end. She had no right to be forgiven as she saw it, and no blame would be given. No matter what Luddy said, or how the other cities tried to interact with her. She felt guilty and couldn’t even look at them without feeling her heart drop down to her stomach in a dead fit. As she saw it she had no right to forget what happened because of her, how she almost destroyed the things she loved most. Just like how the dark circles under her eyes never seemed to leave.
The night around her was calm though, and it was moments like this that she came to live for. The moments when she was alone in this vast world and all she had was silence around her, and the frenzy of thoughts in her head. It was moments like this that gave the German a form of peace to know that it would be okay. Moments like this that would allow her to pretend she didn’t just go running out of her Inn and down the street like a crazy women trying not to let the late night people on their porches see her crying.
Hettie lifted her head to the country sky, black ink with glitter thrown on it. The night sky was truly beautiful and she loved every second of it. The crisp summer night air and the dark that pressed in on every side, her only light the full moon that shined somewhere above her. The only thing breaking the silence was a church bell in the distance. Hettie gave a small smile as her tears began to roll down over the black and purple circles under her eyes, caused by lack of sleep, down over onto her pale moonlight washed skin and down her slender neck.
It was nights like these that peace was all Hettie hoped for, but could she really hope for something like that? Was it even possible for any kind of peace to be achieved?
Hettie’s heart was thumping hard against her chest, feeling as if it were tearing for a way out to escape what its master put it through. She was still making chocked sobbing noises as she trotted down the street. She could remember the blurs of color all too well, the sound of Ludwig barking orders, and the terror of air raids. The sound of the wounded screaming with deafening shrills and the smell of bright red fluid that painted the streets in the hot afternoon suns. The smell of decaying bodies as you crawled over them, and the feel of your knife going through a man’s body. It wasn’t something easily forgotten.
Hettie would feel dirty if she did forget, it would feel like a sin. She knew she would not be forgiven in the end. She had no right to be forgiven as she saw it, and no blame would be given. No matter what Luddy said, or how the other cities tried to interact with her. She felt guilty and couldn’t even look at them without feeling her heart drop down to her stomach in a dead fit. As she saw it she had no right to forget what happened because of her, how she almost destroyed the things she loved most. Just like how the dark circles under her eyes never seemed to leave.
The night around her was calm though, and it was moments like this that she came to live for. The moments when she was alone in this vast world and all she had was silence around her, and the frenzy of thoughts in her head. It was moments like this that gave the German a form of peace to know that it would be okay. Moments like this that would allow her to pretend she didn’t just go running out of her Inn and down the street like a crazy women trying not to let the late night people on their porches see her crying.
Hettie lifted her head to the country sky, black ink with glitter thrown on it. The night sky was truly beautiful and she loved every second of it. The crisp summer night air and the dark that pressed in on every side, her only light the full moon that shined somewhere above her. The only thing breaking the silence was a church bell in the distance. Hettie gave a small smile as her tears began to roll down over the black and purple circles under her eyes, caused by lack of sleep, down over onto her pale moonlight washed skin and down her slender neck.
It was nights like these that peace was all Hettie hoped for, but could she really hope for something like that? Was it even possible for any kind of peace to be achieved?
-June 2005
