A German Train

A short story about a little Jewish girl and a German train.

    “Look at me,” Uncle grabs my shoulders and makes me turn to face him. I cannot look at him. Instead I gaze at the blue Easter egg sky that stretches over the entire expanse of the earth. The clouds are like the chalk on Ms. Liders board when she erases what she has written; leaving a trail of dust. The words are still there, not fully gone. There are thousands of words on her board; a thousand trails of dust. I wonder if that is what God does. I wonder if he writes in the sky sometimes, and since no one bothers to look, he erases them with his hands; always leaving behind a trace of what he said. Silently, I make a promise to look at the sky more often. I hope they have a sky like this in Germany.
   
     “Hadassah,” finally I see Uncle again. I forgot he was here; how long was I fallen with the sky?
   
      “Yes Uncle?” I say, he is so tall, like a white tree with black hair and gray eyes. It’s dangerous that black hair. They kill people with black hair. I’m old enough to know that anything not blond and blue is scrutinized like an ant under a magnifying glass in the height of summer. That is why I am leaving. My home of Poland will soon be a place of crumbling steps, deathful stares, and miserable air.
  
      “You’re going to be a very big girl for me right?” His gray eyes are swimming; his grip on me tightens like he’s trying to weld himself to me so we will not be separated. When Mama and Papa died, Uncle raised me as his daughter. He is the closest papa I’ve ever had. There is a lump in my throat as big as a baseball. I try to swallow it, but I can’t.
   
       We’re standing on the cement platform of the polish train station with no one but SS officers patrolling the walkways, smiling with a gleam of the Furer.
 
       “Yes,” I bite my lip and stare at my new white leather shoes with the gold buckle. These shoes used to be Mama’s favorite table with cherry oak wood and flower designs. This blue silk dress with the white satin lace used to be Uncle’s best suit; it matches my blue eyes perfectly. Auntie and Uncle sold practically everything for my new clothes, just so I could look pretty for my new parents. My eyes are full of water and in a second my cup of tears has overfilled, and stream down my white cheeks.
  
       “Now,” Uncle says standing in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders, “what is your name?”
  
      “Elsie Huss.” I say like defeat.

     Uncle nods, “how old are you?”
  
     “Nine years old.”
   
     “What happened to your parents?”

     “My papa died in war, and my mama got sick.” I could feel my voice breaking with the weight of lies. The truth? I was a short twelve year old with pencil arms and twig legs, I could have passed for eight. My mama and papa were Jews, which is enough explanation in the year of 1938 in a Nazi Germany.  


     “Good girl,” he smoothes my hair, gives me another nod and brings out a gold pin with the black swastika embedded like a curse. With shaking fingers he pins it to my white sweater, where the world could see it and his eyes sear into mine and he whispers, “just forget about your Auntie and I, you are going to have new parents, with nice clothes and lots of food. Just don’t forget who you really are Hadassah, you are Gods child.”
He takes my hand and leads me to the line where they check your passport, and give you a smile, stamp and a german farewell. My legs shake and I feel sweat beading on the top of my head even though it is cold enough to snow. My eyes are on the ground when we reach the front of the line.

     "Elsie, your passport." Uncle nudges me and I look up to see an officer with steal blue eyes. I am noticably shaking and my breath is fast. The man kneels to my level and stares at my face.

    "What is your name my dear?" he smiles.

     "E-els-sie sir."

    "Ah, she is frightened of trains, its her first time." My uncle lies patting my shoulder.

    The officer laughs, "No need to be afraid dear, here is a sweety to make you feel better." He hands me a candy and stamps my passport without a hesitation.

    "Danka." I say, and right as I'm about to go in the train, a whisle blows.
Finally He c***s his arm in a perfect forty-five degree angle. “Heil Hitler!” heads turn, officers smile, and eyes are on me now.

    “Heil Hitler!” the words come out of me like vomit and fall on the train station floor like someone left them behind as garbage.

   There is no hug. There is no good bye. There is only the emptiness of truth, and the overflow of lies that feel like they are pinned to me on my back; trailing behind me waiting for someone to catch them and twist them around my throat.
  
     I sit by the window holding onto a small brown suitcase. Inside there is one picture of my mama and papa, a cotton night gown with holes, a gray dress that has been sown fifty times, and a small stale piece of bread. I am trying to be brave, but it is so hard. My hands are shaking. I feel like they are going to see strait though me, kick me off the train and shoot me in the head. I am the first person on this part of the train. My new parents sent me a first class ticket and will be waiting for me when the train stops. Uncle said I was to call them Mama and Papa. I hate them already. I hate everyone.
  
    “Excuse me young lady,” I look up at a middle aged women with bright blue eyes. Her smell is sharp like a garden flower.
  
     “Yes Madam?” I ask as a shiver runs down.
  
     “I have the seat right next to you dear.” She smiles, I’m surprised I didn’t hear her face crinkle. I scoot over some, hoping she doesn’t smell the Jew on me. “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing, where are you going off to?”
  
      I don’t want to speak to her. “I’m going home.” I say truthfully.
   
      “Ah, back to Berlin to your mama and papa?”
  
       I nod as I yawn pretending to be sleepy.
   
       “What is your name dear?”
 
        I looked out the window as the train began roll away, I tried to catch a last glimpse of Uncle, but he was gone. “Elsie,” I stared at her reaction which was perfectly normal.
  
        “A nice German name.” She looked down at her watch, and then out of the door enclosing us in our first class seats. “My dear do not be alarmed, but you missed one thing.”  
  
       My heart had stopped, I was sure there was no breath coming out of my body. Had it been that easy to spot me? A Jew?
   
      “Y-yes?” I stammered.
   
      Her hands slowly come to my neck, I prepared to be choked. But no, she lifted something off  my dress, and instantly I remembered. “This is a very beautiful necklace, but I’m afraid others wouldn’t think so.” She winked at me.
  
       “Are you going to tell on me?” I said still breathless.
   
       “No Elsie, I won’t, I’m in hiding myself.” She smiled and lifted her own chain out of her dress, a gold Star of David just like mine.

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Aguilar]

Great story I really enjoyed reading your story :)