THE VOICES

Secrets

Germany opened the door with his eyes closed tightly. He opened one eye and looked around. There was...nothing? It was silent. He slowly walked inside and stared. Nothing had changed. It was dusty ass all hell, but it was the same.

There was an old mug on the desk. Germany recognized it as a mug that he had made his dad. He walked over to the desk, it still had many of his dad's old maps and papers. There was an old feather pen, still seeming to have ink in the end.

He swore he felt something on his neck...spinning around he looked at the room. It was purely quiet, no wind, no drafts, no anything. He looked back at the desk, there was something sticking out of all the disarray.

Germany picked it up, it was a small envelope? He stared at it. It was a simple old envelope, sealed with something. There was nothing on it, it was blank. Besides a haphazardly written date 'April 30th, 1945'. It was his dad's hand writing.

He stared at the envelope. It was dated the day of his dad's death. He just stood there in silence. His dogs began to start to get restless again. "Schweigen." He said. His dogs slowly went quiet. He looked back at the envelope.

He pondered if he should open it. He glanced back at the desk, before deciding to open it. He slowly maneuvered his finger below the flap of the envelope and carefully, as not to rip it. He opened up the envelope and pulled out it's contents.

It was a letter? Germany was slightly confused. He opened the letter and something spilled out onto the floor. Germany leaned down and picked what had spilled out up. It seemed to be old photos? He stared at the first one.

It appeared to be his grandfather? His grandfather looked young in the photo. He sighed and flipped through the photos. Suddenly one made him stop, he stared. It was a photo of his younger siblings. Germany's eyes started to well up.

He missed them. They were killed when they were young. Germany flipped to the last photo, it was a family photo. It had him, his siblings, his father, grandfather, and great-grandmother. The date read 'July 8th, 1920' he sighed.

He set the photos down and looked at the letter. It seemed to be written in a rush, the lettering was hard to read in most spots and some was fully scribbled out. Germany did his best to read it. He only understood some parts.

It seemed his father had wrote this in a full panic. His father always had good handwriting, much like he did. Germany paused and set the letter down, his dogs were getting restless again, but somewhere else. Germany walked to his dogs.

They were at his younger siblings door. Germany never went in there either. He couldn't bare being in there with the guilt he had. It would hurt too much after witnessing their murder. Germany sighed and slowly opened the door.