Sleeping in Flame by Jonathan Carroll

Author:Jonathan Carroll [Carroll, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Women artists, Reincarnation, Fantasy Fiction, Contemporary, Shamans, General, Screenwriters, Fantasy, Vienna (Austria), Body; Mind & Spirit, Occult fiction, Fiction, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780765311863
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2004-09-13T23:00:00+00:00

"How do you know it wasn't a kid who shot at us this morning?"

"Don't be an asshole, Haider. You know what they're going to do with these kids. You saw all those empty trains in Avignon. My brother lives in

Linz. He told me they've got one of those camps out in Mauthausen. There's a stone quarry there a couple of hundred feet high. They set them to work cutting rock. If they mess up, the guards throw them off the top of the quarry. You don't think they do that to kids, too? The lieutenant was right about one thing -- those assholes in Berlin don't care what kind of Jew it is

-- little or big. They kill them all the same."

I looked at him. "You don't know that for sure. I never heard about a camp in Mauthausen."

"Benedikt, if you shut your eyes any tighter, you're going to start seeing stars."

As we got closer to the building, I saw someone looking out the window at us. A man with his hands in the air, as if he was directing the music, was looking our way. At the end of the day, when we could breathe again and stop shaking, we heard he was the brother of the woman Korbei shot.

"Is that the teacher?"

"It must be." I took a step forward while the other two stayed back. One of them jacked a shell into the chamber of his rifle.

"Monsieur Venasque?"

The man in the window lowered his hands and looked at me.

"Do you speak German?" The only phrase I knew in French.

"Yes. What do you want? I'm in the middle of a lesson."

"I'm sorry, but would you please come out here and bring all of your students with you?"

He didn't move for a moment, then nodded at me and disappeared from view.

"Should we go in there to make sure? Maybe he's got a gun."

That made sense, so I went forward and entered the building alone after telling the others to be ready.

The place smelled of delicious flowers. There were bouquets of them everywhere, along with children's drawings on the walls, and a blackboard in front of the room with musical notes written on it. The children turned and all of them seemed either pleased or happy to see me.

They looked to be about four or five years old.

The teacher was at his desk, holding an open briefcase. What made me smile was that his plain face reminded me very much of Herr Schleimer, the man who ran the _Würstel_ stand at the end of my street in Vienna.

Seeing my smile, the teacher hesitated a moment, and then smiled back gratefully. I didn't want to encourage him, but didn't want to scare him, either. He knew what was going on. If he made things easier for us, that would help.

Closing his briefcase, he told the children to stand by their desks and be quiet as birds sleeping in the nest. He translated the sentence for me.

"Some of them are afraid of you. Their parents told them Nazis are monsters.

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