The House of Special Purpose

Anastasia Romanov's last days.

I knew after we left Tobolsk, things would be all right. In Ekaterinburg, my siblings and I reunited with our parents and Marie. It felt good to be in my papa’s arms again. We stayed in a house that was prepared for us called “The House of Special Purpose”. Since we shared rooms with out closest servants, it felt cramped, but we were together.

We remained under the constant watch of soldiers. We could not even use the lavatory without an escort. Alexei remained an invalid most of the time. My sisters and I played with our dogs and embroidered -- what we would have usually done under any other circumstances. I made sure to stay energetic, despite the looming sense of apprehension.

All of us fell into a routine. We said prayers in the morning, we ate breakfast -- a rather barbaric sort of dining without silverware or utensils -- and the soldiers always watched. I continued to remain cheerful and optimistic, while visiting Alexei and putting on plays with the dogs. I ignored the drunken soldiers, and jested with my sisters to cheer Mama up -- her eyes seemed hollow, her cheeks dark and sunken. 

On July fourth, the secret police,  headed by Yakov Yurovsky, replaced Avdeyev and his soldiers. Even I knew this did not bode well. The White Army grew close, but the Bolsheviks kept an eye on us. Something shifted in the air of the house. The soldiers acted strangely. In turn, we grew wary. But we continued in what had become our daily life. My sisters and I helped scrub the floors. We found enjoyment in the small things. And whenever he turned his back, I stuck my tongue out at Yurovsky.

 We took a walk in the garden with Papa on July seventeenth, quiet and solemn. That night, we fell asleep and let the grey of dreamless slumber capture our minds, the monotone of our existence. However, after midnight, we were awakened by the Secret Police, who told us we would be moved to safety. The White Army was on its way and violence would arrive with it.

They told us to dress.

“Do not fret, Anastasia,” my mother said. In the lines on her face, the bags beneath her eyes, I knew she had emptied out her soul. “You must always remain optimistic.”

But I knew, in that moment, what special purpose this house served.

Author's Note

I am very interested in Russia history, and of course the execution of the Romanov family is a pivotal point. I always found Russian history sad and disturbing, but a great place of inspiration for me. I wanted to do this from Anastasia's point of view, but I also want to do something for Marie. But because of the popularity the former, there is more detailed information on her to pull from.

This was written late at night and I want to do more with the idea, so I probably will add more, or even write a book. You never know.

Reviews

[.ronald.039.]

Very nice. What a nicely executed story. I don't know much about Anastasia Romanov (I assume she's the one from the Disney movie) but I was still able to enjoy the story. Intriguing idea, and I'd be curious to see how you are going to extend the piece since her and her family are executed. Either way, good story-telling.

[Goodbye]

Wow - what a great story, Marisa! I especially liked the line, "And whenever he turned his back, I stuck my tongue out at Yurovsky." A young girls only line of defense, an insulting gesture.

This was done beautifully - you weave a good, consistent story, with the ability to put yourself in the shoes of a historical character.