Author: thesweetestsounds PM
A young writer finds herself in Nazi-occupied France and gets much more of an adventure than she expects.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Adventure - Chapters: 3 - Words: 2,028 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 6 - Updated: 03-27-12 - Published: 06-27-11 - id: 7123964
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
-back at camp-
Once we had arrived at our destination, I was placed what could only be a prison cell. At least they let me keep my blanket. A young blond woman had brought be a soup and a piece of bread – I tried to ask her where I was or what was going to happen but she seemed determined not to understand me.
For three days I waited. Well, three days according to the number of times that same petit blonde girl came and brought me supper. At this point – starving, exhausted and in desperate need of a shower – I had decided that my parents were right. As a shiver ran up the back of my neck, I came to terms with the fact that I may not live much longer. Landa had been nice enough to be sure – but I knew better. I had spent enough time around the Nazi officers I pestered trying to get information to know that they can be extremely charming when the occasion called for it.
While I wasn't surprised that his little show of chivalry was all for naught, I was still curious as to why I was still alive. If they wanted me dead, why the fuck didn't they just shoot me in the wilderness? I was grateful for my life, to be sure – but I was suspicious. If they were keeping me here to die slowly…the fuckers would have at least come in to observe me waste away, instead of subjecting this poor girl to my questions and my filth.
As I lay on my back, trying to dig the dirt out from underneath my fingernails, my door opened. Dinner had been brought by only a few hours before, so I sat up to see who had entered. It was a short man – in uniform, but looking no more the soldier than my little nephew Jeremy. He looked me up and down with disgust. I don't blame him – it was pretty hard to maintain any semblance to personal hygiene in this place. The man rolled his eyes and beckoned for me to get up. As I followed him out the door, I looked back at my cell. Funny to think that that place now seemed inviting.
We walked down a long hallway and turned right. Rows and rows of empty cells seemed to gawk at me through the gloom. I wrapped the blanket around myself, suddenly self-conscious. As we passed through a door, I was led down a different hallway that was obviously not meant for those with dirt under their fingernails. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling emitted a soft, warm glow and the walls were covered in expensive-looking floral wall paper. As I was looking up to check out the designs on the ceiling, I ran into the back of my boy-Nazi. He looked back and glared, but ushered me into a room at the end of the hallway, through a heavy mahogany door.
There he was. My own fucking mother Teresa. Landa stood up from the impressive desk he was seated behind and beckoned for me to have a seat in front of him.
"Good Evening, my girl. Please, please do have a seat! Could I tempt you with a glass of milk?".
Well. Fuck me.
-Thank you so much to all the folks who have reviewed/subscribed! I know it has legit taken forever for me to update, but now that i'm back on the hobby horse, hopefully the chapters will be a lot more frequent. I'm writing this story as I go so PLEASE message me with ideas, suggestions, criticisms. Thanks!-