Madame Ripple’s Timepieces – Part II

      13 Comments on Madame Ripple’s Timepieces – Part II

Read Part I here.

WWII Nurse

WWII Nurse

My clogs crunch against the gravel. The SS officer at the gate peers at me through the barbed wire. I don’t want to do it, but I have to stay in character. I raise my right hand up, fingers pointing ahead. “Sieg Heil”. For a second, I don’t recognize my own voice.

The guard relaxes his stance. “Guten-tag Fraulein”. His eyes crawl on me, from my white nurse’s cap to the bold ‘Deutsches Rotes Kreuz’ in red on my armband. I squirm in place.

“Ihre papiere, bitte”, he demands.

His eyes search my face, like a psychiatrist who is trained to tell if a person is lying. Although I’ve forged my nurse’s ID to perfection, I feel my throat constrict.

“Fraulein, ihre papiere, bitte”, he sounds slightly irritated.

“Ja, sicher”, my voice is a squeak.

As soon as I step inside the gates, a stench greets me. No, slaps me. A stench so strong, it seems to have taken over the atmosphere. The place reeks of tobacco, grime, chemicals and death. I know I will remember this smell forever.

The path is flanked by walls of barbed wire on either side. Behind them are red brick buildings with white windows. Windows which have been sealed shut and blackened, so neither sunshine nor hope can enter.

Another guard sits in his high tower like an angry demigod looking over his creation. A few women and children in their blue and white striped uniforms and shaved heads stare vacantly at us. Their eyes are like little broken windows. These children have probably seen more horrors in their tiny lifetimes than I’ve seen in my entire life.

The stench grows stronger all of a sudden. We pass Block 1 when a truck roars past us.

I first see shoes, hundreds of them, and then the bodies that were wearing them. They weren’t even stacked, they were dumped. A stray hand here, a lifeless bluish face there. The truck speeds on and tips out its cargo a few blocks ahead. Corpses fall like sandbags.

We stop in our tracks. I comb my insides to see what just died within me. Shock and horror might come later, but I am numb at this moment. Bile bubbles up again. The guard waits as I retch and throw up on the gravel.

For one reckless second, I want to run, abandon this project. I want to get away from the stench,  and the flippant murder of humanity. Back to the comforting rhythm of my pendulums and grandfather clocks.

A small contingent of prisoners marching down the lane diverts my attention.

They’re skeletons with just a spark of life in their eyes. They are beaten at every step for no particular reason. All of a sudden, the guard leaves me to my misery and rushes towards them. He picks out a scrawny man from the middle of the group, lands a few blows on him and pulls him aside. He then turns his attention on a woman from the very back of the group and pulls her out too.

Those faces look familiar. I’ve studied their photos so many times! It’s them! Andre and Irene! One bony neck in each hand, he drags them along mercilessly. Where is he taking them?

This is my opportunity. With the guard gone, no one is looking at me. I follow them at a distance. They turn left. I hide against the wall and tilt my head to see where they’re headed. He opens a door and pushes them inside. He then shuts the door and waits outside, smoking. I have a bad feeling about this. My mind is racing. I have to find out what’s going on in there.

Sheer dumb luck strikes and I find a loose slat on the other side of the building. It’s dark inside, but for a shaft of light from the roof falling right on their heads.

They’re on a bench, holding hands and whispering something.

Andre has his hand wrapped around Irene. He says something and then kisses her forehead tenderly. Irene’s eyes light up when she looks up at him. A few minutes later, the guard knocks letting them know it’s time to go back to being prisoners.

Love is a weed growing in the most unexpected places, but even weeds can grow into generations of flowers with a touch of humanity. I pick up a flat, vaguely heart-shaped rock. It’s time to head home.

13 thoughts on “Madame Ripple’s Timepieces – Part II

  1. pranju

    But I thought the protagonist would mess up the scene of that place and create a butterfly effect. A wonderful description of the scenes. Loved it.

    1. mixedbag Post author

      However, the SS guard did mess up the idea of Nazi cruelty a little bit, didn’t he? Maybe, just maybe, there’ll be a part 3, where you can expect a “ripple” effect 🙂 Thanks for reading, Pranju! Always appreciate your thoughtful comments.

    1. mixedbag Post author

      Thanks, Danielle 🙂 I’m still thinking about it. I had planned to stop here, but looks like Kaira isn’t done with me yet!

  2. rubybastille

    I hadn’t read the first part yet and didn’t realize she was time-traveling! I thought she might be a spy, or on a rescue mission, and that made the ease with which she leaves a little confusing. (But maybe part 3 will be about her escape?) The guard who pulled them out of line to give them time together intrigues me most, especially contrasted against the “angry demi-god” of the other guard.

    1. mixedbag Post author

      Did it read better after you read the first part? When we think of concentration camps, we always think of death and Nazi cruelty. I thought it would be a good idea to give one of them some dimension, a little bit of humanity. So glad it worked. Thanks, Laura!

  3. d3athlily

    Hema, this is just incredible! It took your amazing first story and made it even better! The descriptions and the pacing are a standout. And I love the notion of humanity in such chaos. Reminds me of the movie The Pianist in that respect.

    1. mixedbag Post author

      I am so glad you liked it, Melony, really. I was worried that it wouldn’t live up to Part I, especially because there is no sci-fi element in this part. I haven’t watched the Pianist. I just looked it up on IMDB, what an amazing storyline! I’m adding this to my netflix queue 🙂

  4. Pingback: Madame Ripple's Timepieces - Part III • Mixed Bag

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