Tumblr static tumblr static  640

Andy

United States

Writing is but one of the ways a quiet mind can scream at the World for its stupidity, but the only way an Introvert can truly open the eyes of the World and prove it.
- From an Introvert's Mind to an Extrovert World.

Message from Writer

I'm one of the most introverted people you will ever meet, so if I don't warm up immediately, its not your fault.

Separated

April 14, 2016

    "What do you mean we have to leave?" I avoided my father's eyes as i failed to keep my voice steeled. "A-Abba?" For the first time in a long time I felt small, a sense of unease at what he wasn't telling me. "The Führer-" My father stopped, his face twisting in disgust. "Hitler, is sending our people to their death." I frowned. "Our people? What do you mea- Oh." I stopped short as i saw my father fished his necklace out from under his shirt. "Our people." He repeated, and I watched his face grow somber. "Abba?" His grim look faded as he looked back at me. "Will we be sent there?" He shook his head. "No, Amare." He gave a weak smile. "That's why we have to leave. You're going to go to England, to be with your Aunt Gail." He reached to hug me. "Wait, only I'm going?" I stepped back, eyes wide. He nodded sadly. "You wouldn't easily be seen as a Jew. You have more genetic traits from your mother." This was true, I remembered seeing the picture of her on the mantle and my father saying I looked just like her. He always said that she was mistaken for an immigrant, because she spoke more English than German. 
    "But what about you? Father I-" "It's a bit too late for me, Ama." He tapped the fabric star that was pinned to his coat, when they had been given, he had only returned with one. "If I try to leave, I will be killed, and you will be taken." I refused to look up at him, and this prompted him to pull me into his embrace. "I refuse to loose you, Amare. This hurts me as much as it hurts you but please, I need you to trust me." I finally found the strength to look up at him again, silently nodding. He smiled softly, a quiet "thank you" leaving his lips before he pulled away, for what I didn't realize would be the final time. "Pack whatever you want, just keep it small."
    My father didn't travel with me to Calais, one of the few ports still accepting ferries to cross the English Channel. I kept my head bent, avoiding the crowds on my way to the port, my heart beat echoing in my ears. I was thankful for my winter coat, the biting cold of the season was starting to hit the town hard. Yet, my fathers necklace burned against my skin. It was almost an unholy sin, to bear the symbol I was so accustomed to; even if it hid behind my clothes. There were very few soldiers patrolling the line leading to the ferry, but my unsettled panic jumped into my throat when ever I caught sight of that armband of death. 
    I became the last person to board the ferry, squished against the railing and forced to watch pale faces fade into the distance, several of which I would learn later never made it across. Twilight was drawing closer as the lights of Dover beckoned the ship to safety, and my breath curled into a nervous fog. The ferry's motion stopped, and the strangers I had boarded with dispersed, tipping hats to those they'd idly chatted with before they went on their merry ways. I chewed on my top lip as my feet returned to solid ground, and I searched for my aunt, and I suddenly realized that I didn't know what she looked like. My stride faltered, and I studied faces silently praying that one of them spark a memory. "Akhyanit?" 
Niece. A woman's voice broke me from my thoughts and I turned to face the older woman, who stared at me in shock. "Amare?" She stretched out her hand towards me and for a moment I didn't register what was happening until she started pulling away, tears springing into her eyes almost in defeat. I swallowed hard, my own voice stuck in my throat until what came out was weak and cracked;
"A-Aunt Gail?"
From my very limited knowledge:
'abba' is a way to say father (more informal, and often used in prayer)
Akhyanit means niece.

(I apologize if I use either of the two improperly.)

Print

See History

Login or Signup to provide a comment.