|The Horrors of Our Love
Author: SweeneyOCD98 PM
Ludwig Beilschmidt is a military captain at Auschwitz when he meets a young prisoner named Feliciano. What is an Italian doing at a camp? NOW COMPLETERated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Tragedy - Germany & N. Italy - Chapters: 16 - Words: 53,123 - Reviews: 269 - Favs: 176 - Follows: 85 - Updated: 05-07-12 - Published: 03-11-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7915648
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Okay! This is my first attempt to write a serious story and a story that's not a one-shot. My class is learning about World War II in school and we watched Schindler's List. By the way, that is an amazing movie. So I decided to write a WW II story because of that and the fact that I'm doing a report on Auschwitz. I hope you enjoy!
The day was black and grey. Then again, the sun never shined on that condemned place. It was kept in secrecy, at least for a little while. The world knew, but no one knew the depth of the horror. And even if they did, they couldn't protest. No, a person would never dream of revolting. They couldn't; they'd be sent there, too.
It was often described as a living Hell, and rightfully so. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to step foot on the ground would agree whole-heartedly. The only colors there were grey, black, red, orange, and white. Grey for the color of the sky and dirt. Black for the color of the souls who ran the place. Red for the blood that was shed. Orange for the flames that engulfed them. And white for the ashes that fell.
Of course, it wasn't Hell to them. To the Germans, it was a place of righteousness. To the Nazis, like Ludwig Beilschmidt. His title was a military captain, respected by his soldiers and his superiors. Blonde hair and blue eyes, he was the perfect German soldier. He was Hitler's perfect vision for an Aryan future. There were some soldiers who would do anything for their Fuhrer. They would kill anyone, including themselves, for the "Fatherland." Ludwig wasn't one of those soldiers.
Sure, he respected his boss and agreed with his orders to a certain extent. But in all honestly, he did not like those camps. While he though that the Germans were superior, he wasn't sure if that meant the Jews had to be exterminated. But he didn't want to think about that. He would just follow his orders and hope for the war to end soon. For now, he was just a pawn in Hitler's plan. Nothing more, nothing less.
So here he was, Ludwig Beilschmidt, military captain of the SS, standing at the front gates of Auschwitz. Birkenau, to be exact. This was the last place he wanted to be right now; he would rather be curled up in his bed with a good book. But instead, he was sitting at a makeshift desk several feet away from the newly arrived train of prisoners. As the latches opened, German shepherds barked furiously as a large group of people were pushed down the ramp and over the Ludwig and other soldiers. The process began.
"Name?" Ludwig asked.
"Jacob Hirsch," a scared-looking man replied.
"Watchmaker." Ludwig looked up from his glasses. The man looked weak.
"Forty-nine." A forty-nine year-old Jewish watchmaker? He wasn't fit for work. Ludwig wrote Jacob's name down under a certain column and ordered him to the group to the right. Poor man, he almost felt sorry for him. Ludwig repeated this process for five more people until a young man stood in front of him. The boy had big brown eyes, tan skin, and auburn hair. He didn't look like a Jew…
"Feliciano Vargas." That name sounded Italian…
"Eighteen." An eighteen-year old Italian musician? What was he doing here? Italians were a part of the almighty Axis. Either way, he was young and fit for work. Ludwig ordered him to stand with the group to the left. This prisoner was safe, for now. Ludwig's eyes were transfixed on Feliciano. Feliciano met his eyes and smiled. Smiling? What was there to smile about? What a strange boy.
Feliciano and the other prisoners were ordered to march towards a small room. There, they had their hair cut and were given striped uniforms. They were thin and barely protected against the cold weather. When this process was finished, the prisoners were taken to their hut. Feli laid down on the wooden bunk bed and was pushed towards the wall as four other people had to share the same bed. Feli felt like he was going to cry. Why him. Surely this was all just a bad dream. The Italian sniffed and stared out the window. He looked at a large, smoking chimney. Why were there snowflakes falling from there?
Sorry it was short! I wrote it during school while we were watching some stupid hockey movie. Should I continue? Please review!