Anca's Story--a novel of the Holocaust by Mark Williams

Author:Mark Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Holocausr, world war 2, ww2, wwII, coming-of-age, Auschwitz, children Holocaust
Publisher: Mark Williams
Published: 2015-01-07T05:00:00+00:00

37.

Faint chimes sounded playfully across my senses and I lay still, taking pleasure from the refrain. Then, as memory activated and I recalled my last moments of consciousness, I sat up with a start, scorning the sharp pain that seared through my chest, staring about me into the blackness.

I could see nothing and for a few seconds presumed it must still be the dark night of the forest, but when I looked up to the sky not even a star shone.

The tinkle of bells chimed again, as if hanging in the wind, and I turned in the direction of the sound. I was aware of furnishing beneath me, this confirmed as investigating fingers reached down to touch a feather mattress. It was so soft, so gentle, after recent discomforts, that I was quite tempted to lay back to enjoy this sybaritic pleasure.

But immediately I thought of Nicolae and Elone I was upright again, calling their names, looking about me in bewilderment, trying desperately to bring a semblance of order to a confused mind.

There was no answer to my cry, only the faint chimes responding to my call. I reached down again to the mattress, to confirm its existence, that it was not a figment of my overwrought imagination.

It was not.

I looked about me again. The air was redolent with vernal flowers but still the darkness was pervasive. I called out the children’s names once more.

No answer.

Suddenly there was a noise before me, as if a door opening. I followed the direction of the sound but saw nothing. A voice, a woman’s voice, spoke to me in a tongue I did not recognize, though the tone was soft, gentle. Still I saw nothing. The thought struck me suddenly, that I was blind, and I reached instinctively to my eyes, probing fingers denied contact by a cloth restraint.

As I began in panic to tug at the material, warm hands gently gripped my wrists, drawing them down to my side. Demulcent tones gave meaning to a language otherwise unfamiliar and I offered no resistance. I demanded, “Please, who are you? Where are Nicolae and Elone? Are they safe?” My questions gushed out, each one begun without pause for an answer to the previous, but all I received in reply were soothing words evidently urging me to rest.

I importuned my benefactress indifferently. “Nicolae, my brother? And Elone? Are they safe?”

It was obvious I was not understood, but still I persisted in my enquiry, for the welfare of the children was my only concern just now. If obvious enough I had by some miracle survived the wolf’s attack in the forest, the fate of my brother and charge remained a mystery, and one I could not conceive of rest before resolving.

I tried to sit up again, but the gentle hands were guiding me back, laying me against the feather mattress. I felt a receptacle at my lips and realised I was being offered water. I gulped down a few mouthfuls, thankful for the refreshment, then shook my head to indicate I could take no more.

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