My story on the amazing HPFF has been validated!! Yesses for me!!!
The Remus Journals
-- Up To No Good
Friday, April 20, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
A little treat for you...
ok I decided that I would post up a random little holocaust story that I wrote. It was for an assignment in English class. And this one isn't like other Holocaust stories... no, this one is a romantic comedy! Just read and you will find out!
Death Camps and Car Crashes
As we approached the house, my anticipation grew even more, if that’s remotely possible that is. After six long years of monstrous Nazis, concentration and death camps, and the ever terrifying foul comrades, finally being with Emma again would be like heaven.
Perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m James Edward Danvers, Lance-Corporal of the 10th squad in the British Army. I was involved in the liberation of the Nazi concentration camp Bergen-Belsen. I still remember the faces of the victims as we arrived. The look was one of relief, joy, and fear. It’s still difficult to believe exactly what I saw. I never thought that it was possible for human beings to treat each other in such a gruesome, barbaric way. I felt as though I had just stepped into a nightmare. A nightmare filled with genocide, gas chambers, and millions of frightfully emaciated people. Dead and alive.
I shook the nightmarish images from my head, and turned my attention towards the conversation that the four other men riding in the car with me were having. These men were the few, that were my friends, that were with me when we arrived at Belsen. Loyal and dead stubborn ‘til the end.
“Who goes next after we ditch this bum?” said Thomas. Thomas was the only one out of the four that I had known before the war. We had been friends while growing up in London.
“You know you would be lost with out me!” I countered, feigning a hurt look. “Admit it. You wouldn’t last one day on your own!”
When we finally stopped at the house that I shared with Emma, the others in the car looked out the window, whistling and mocking me and my large, perfectly clean dwelling. The house was located in the country side of England, not too near and not too far from London. Not knowing when I would see my friends again, I invited them in for a tour of the house and to meet the first-hand the one being that I never stopped talking about.
As I fought the urge to run and skip with joy while we walked up the stone walkway, Oliver, another comrade from war, saw through the mask that I kept up to hide my anticipation and called me on it.
“Look at him! The prick looks like he’s about to piss himself!”
The others howled with laughter at this. I was always a topic of amusement for these guys. For example, because of the area, I knew about three of our neighbors while Emma knew all of them. It’s not that I didn’t like people, as all of the men walking with me believe. It’s just that sometimes I prefer the solitude of living with only one other person. Even if that other person insists on visiting with friends and keeping up an image, it’s not terribly difficult to talk them out of it.
Which brings us to the topic of Emma. Emma is my wife. We wed a couple of weeks before I was called to fight in the war. I last saw her about two years ago during one of those rare times when I was allowed home for a few days. We didn’t do much, seeing as the world was on high alert, but I still enjoyed it. We had actually gone to school together. She was-- well, I should probably say that she wasn’t exceedingly popular. She was a quiet mousy girl that nobody really paid attention to. I was the complete opposite though. While she was quiet and reserved, I was loud and boisterous; though if you met her now you would never suspect that she was ever quiet. I never really knew or noticed her throughout high school, but Thomas was apparently good friends with her and still is. In college, we studied Pre-Med with her, but both Thomas and I quickly realized that you actually needed brains to study that and quickly transferred out of the class while she continued on and became a nurse. We began going out in 1938 when I had to go to the hospital due to a stomach virus. She was the nurse assigned to watch over me and after two years of seeing each other we decided to marry.
When the door remained unopened after a good five minutes, I figured that she was at work. She commuted to work at the hospital in London, and with the war finishing up she was most likely working overtime due to the numerous injuries of the soldiers. This hospital was not one of those damaged by Germany’s bombing in 1940, which also meant that the patients from the Coventry and Warwickshire Hospital were temporarily moved to the one that she worked at.
Using the spare key that lay hidden on the ledge over the door, we let ourselves in. I told them to wait in the family room while I played the part of host and fixed some drinks. Their jeering laughter followed me to the kitchen. Once the drinks were distributed, we began recalling stories from Germany.
“How many do you reckon you killed, mate?” Oliver asked as casually as if killing was something that people always talked about. That’s how Oliver was though. Spontaneous and blunt.
“When?”
“During Belsen”
I knew exactly what they were talking about. A couple days after the war ended, while we were still helping out in Belsen, nearly half of the Nazi/SS prisoners escaped from the camp. The 10th squad was the nearest to where they were escaping to so our commanding officer ordered us after them. The prisoners had somehow managed to pinch some of our weapons and were well into the forest when we arrived. As Lance-Corporal, I had ordered the men to stand back and let the bastards believe we were still after them, but some didn’t listen. They continued to give chase and we lost a good five men. The only ones that did survive were walking with me right now. Once the escapees were out of ammo, we continued chasing and eventually we got rid of them all.
Nearly an hour later, I heard the distinct sound of tires rolling over the gravel in the drive way. Someone was here. Leaning over, I glanced out the window I saw that it was my beloved Emma’s car.
“Emma!” Heart bursting with joy, I got up and rushed to the door. Again, the laughter of my so-called ‘friends’ chased after me, but at this point, I didn’t care. I yanked the door open and hurried to the bright blue car that she was getting out of, her back facing me. Even from behind she looked perfect. She had gorgeous auburn tresses that fell in a waterfall down a lean, powerful back. She was a vision of perfection from every angle. She turned and I saw her amber eyes look at me in alarm. Then, I got a skull-splitting feeling in my head. Little colored dots splashed onto my vision, eventually overpowering my mind and thrusting me into a world of shadows.
Blinking a couple of times, I realized that I was in my bedroom in the house. Emma was sitting by my side and Thomas, Oliver, and the rest were at the foot of the bed, laughing. They seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
“Look’s like our little sleeping beauty decided to grace us with his presence!” I heard Thomas mock in the background. Honestly, I don’t know why I still call him my best mate.
“James? Are you alright?” a soft, gentle voice asked. EMMA! I promptly sat up and felt my head throbbing in protest, causing me to fall back on the bed. I twisted over and groaned into my soft, fresh smelling pillow.
“What happened?” I asked in a muffled voice.
Emma smiled and said, “When you ran up behind me I didn’t know who it was. So I stepped to the side and you ran into the car.”
The others roared with laughter.
“The look on your face was priceless, mate!” Oliver added.
“I love you too, Oliver,” I said scowling at them.
A fresh batch of laughter followed. Honestly, could they do anything else? They sounded like a bunch of hyenas. I looked up and saw Emma smiling at me.
“So. You going to tell me how things went over there?”
“Maybe.” I said, the tone of my voice serious, “My head is really killing me and trip back was completely draining. I might have to-” My rant was cut off when her lips touched mine. The corners of my lips curved upward in a grin as I pulled her deeper into the kiss. Holding onto her with one hand, I waved the others out, but they didn’t go quietly. Like a bunch of twelve-year-olds they gagged as they made their way out. Usually I would retaliate by rushing over and literally throwing them out of the house through either the window or the door, but right now I was happy exactly where I was.
-- Up To No Good
As we approached the house, my anticipation grew even more, if that’s remotely possible that is. After six long years of monstrous Nazis, concentration and death camps, and the ever terrifying foul comrades, finally being with Emma again would be like heaven.
Perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m James Edward Danvers, Lance-Corporal of the 10th squad in the British Army. I was involved in the liberation of the Nazi concentration camp Bergen-Belsen. I still remember the faces of the victims as we arrived. The look was one of relief, joy, and fear. It’s still difficult to believe exactly what I saw. I never thought that it was possible for human beings to treat each other in such a gruesome, barbaric way. I felt as though I had just stepped into a nightmare. A nightmare filled with genocide, gas chambers, and millions of frightfully emaciated people. Dead and alive.
I shook the nightmarish images from my head, and turned my attention towards the conversation that the four other men riding in the car with me were having. These men were the few, that were my friends, that were with me when we arrived at Belsen. Loyal and dead stubborn ‘til the end.
“Who goes next after we ditch this bum?” said Thomas. Thomas was the only one out of the four that I had known before the war. We had been friends while growing up in London.
“You know you would be lost with out me!” I countered, feigning a hurt look. “Admit it. You wouldn’t last one day on your own!”
When we finally stopped at the house that I shared with Emma, the others in the car looked out the window, whistling and mocking me and my large, perfectly clean dwelling. The house was located in the country side of England, not too near and not too far from London. Not knowing when I would see my friends again, I invited them in for a tour of the house and to meet the first-hand the one being that I never stopped talking about.
As I fought the urge to run and skip with joy while we walked up the stone walkway, Oliver, another comrade from war, saw through the mask that I kept up to hide my anticipation and called me on it.
“Look at him! The prick looks like he’s about to piss himself!”
The others howled with laughter at this. I was always a topic of amusement for these guys. For example, because of the area, I knew about three of our neighbors while Emma knew all of them. It’s not that I didn’t like people, as all of the men walking with me believe. It’s just that sometimes I prefer the solitude of living with only one other person. Even if that other person insists on visiting with friends and keeping up an image, it’s not terribly difficult to talk them out of it.
Which brings us to the topic of Emma. Emma is my wife. We wed a couple of weeks before I was called to fight in the war. I last saw her about two years ago during one of those rare times when I was allowed home for a few days. We didn’t do much, seeing as the world was on high alert, but I still enjoyed it. We had actually gone to school together. She was-- well, I should probably say that she wasn’t exceedingly popular. She was a quiet mousy girl that nobody really paid attention to. I was the complete opposite though. While she was quiet and reserved, I was loud and boisterous; though if you met her now you would never suspect that she was ever quiet. I never really knew or noticed her throughout high school, but Thomas was apparently good friends with her and still is. In college, we studied Pre-Med with her, but both Thomas and I quickly realized that you actually needed brains to study that and quickly transferred out of the class while she continued on and became a nurse. We began going out in 1938 when I had to go to the hospital due to a stomach virus. She was the nurse assigned to watch over me and after two years of seeing each other we decided to marry.
When the door remained unopened after a good five minutes, I figured that she was at work. She commuted to work at the hospital in London, and with the war finishing up she was most likely working overtime due to the numerous injuries of the soldiers. This hospital was not one of those damaged by Germany’s bombing in 1940, which also meant that the patients from the Coventry and Warwickshire Hospital were temporarily moved to the one that she worked at.
Using the spare key that lay hidden on the ledge over the door, we let ourselves in. I told them to wait in the family room while I played the part of host and fixed some drinks. Their jeering laughter followed me to the kitchen. Once the drinks were distributed, we began recalling stories from Germany.
“How many do you reckon you killed, mate?” Oliver asked as casually as if killing was something that people always talked about. That’s how Oliver was though. Spontaneous and blunt.
“When?”
“During Belsen”
I knew exactly what they were talking about. A couple days after the war ended, while we were still helping out in Belsen, nearly half of the Nazi/SS prisoners escaped from the camp. The 10th squad was the nearest to where they were escaping to so our commanding officer ordered us after them. The prisoners had somehow managed to pinch some of our weapons and were well into the forest when we arrived. As Lance-Corporal, I had ordered the men to stand back and let the bastards believe we were still after them, but some didn’t listen. They continued to give chase and we lost a good five men. The only ones that did survive were walking with me right now. Once the escapees were out of ammo, we continued chasing and eventually we got rid of them all.
Nearly an hour later, I heard the distinct sound of tires rolling over the gravel in the drive way. Someone was here. Leaning over, I glanced out the window I saw that it was my beloved Emma’s car.
“Emma!” Heart bursting with joy, I got up and rushed to the door. Again, the laughter of my so-called ‘friends’ chased after me, but at this point, I didn’t care. I yanked the door open and hurried to the bright blue car that she was getting out of, her back facing me. Even from behind she looked perfect. She had gorgeous auburn tresses that fell in a waterfall down a lean, powerful back. She was a vision of perfection from every angle. She turned and I saw her amber eyes look at me in alarm. Then, I got a skull-splitting feeling in my head. Little colored dots splashed onto my vision, eventually overpowering my mind and thrusting me into a world of shadows.
Blinking a couple of times, I realized that I was in my bedroom in the house. Emma was sitting by my side and Thomas, Oliver, and the rest were at the foot of the bed, laughing. They seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
“Look’s like our little sleeping beauty decided to grace us with his presence!” I heard Thomas mock in the background. Honestly, I don’t know why I still call him my best mate.
“James? Are you alright?” a soft, gentle voice asked. EMMA! I promptly sat up and felt my head throbbing in protest, causing me to fall back on the bed. I twisted over and groaned into my soft, fresh smelling pillow.
“What happened?” I asked in a muffled voice.
Emma smiled and said, “When you ran up behind me I didn’t know who it was. So I stepped to the side and you ran into the car.”
The others roared with laughter.
“The look on your face was priceless, mate!” Oliver added.
“I love you too, Oliver,” I said scowling at them.
A fresh batch of laughter followed. Honestly, could they do anything else? They sounded like a bunch of hyenas. I looked up and saw Emma smiling at me.
“So. You going to tell me how things went over there?”
“Maybe.” I said, the tone of my voice serious, “My head is really killing me and trip back was completely draining. I might have to-” My rant was cut off when her lips touched mine. The corners of my lips curved upward in a grin as I pulled her deeper into the kiss. Holding onto her with one hand, I waved the others out, but they didn’t go quietly. Like a bunch of twelve-year-olds they gagged as they made their way out. Usually I would retaliate by rushing over and literally throwing them out of the house through either the window or the door, but right now I was happy exactly where I was.
-- Up To No Good
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Less than 100 days!!!
Just look at my countdown! doesn't it just fill you with joyfulness!!! Less than a hundred days!! Marsha will kill me for this but, WHOO HOO!!!!! haha don't worry I haven't forgotten my story! here it is. I just typed it up so it hasn't been through my "half-fish" or my beta. Raina is such an awesome gal!! I really hope she remembers me. I asked her to look over chapter two way back in 2006! well here it is! OH! Look at my progress bar on the side!
He called my bluff two minutes into the conversation, and instead of taunting me about my lack of Quidditch knowledge, he began explaining the sport to me.
An hour and five chocolate frogs later, there was a high pitched squeak outside our compartment followed closely by a loud crash as if someone had run into a closed door. As dozens of heads popped out of compartments, mine being one of them, I saw a small, blond headed boy curled up at my feet cradling his nose. It seemed that my door-crashing assumption wasn’t too far off. When I bent down to help him up, I heard choruses of laughter from the many surrounding compartments. I froze. Listening to the harsh sounds of delight at the boy’s pain brought back memories that I was determined to lock away in the deepest recesses of my mind.
-- Up To No Good
He called my bluff two minutes into the conversation, and instead of taunting me about my lack of Quidditch knowledge, he began explaining the sport to me.
An hour and five chocolate frogs later, there was a high pitched squeak outside our compartment followed closely by a loud crash as if someone had run into a closed door. As dozens of heads popped out of compartments, mine being one of them, I saw a small, blond headed boy curled up at my feet cradling his nose. It seemed that my door-crashing assumption wasn’t too far off. When I bent down to help him up, I heard choruses of laughter from the many surrounding compartments. I froze. Listening to the harsh sounds of delight at the boy’s pain brought back memories that I was determined to lock away in the deepest recesses of my mind.
-- Up To No Good
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