Notes from the End of the World

The women from Nuremberg

The shouts echoed and resonated from all over the old town.

"HE'S HERE!"

"He's here!"

"he's here!'

Women voices mainly. Desperate voices.

One by one, they started to get off on the street, between the rumbles of old, burned buildings. They seemed like a clowder of wild felines, crouching under wooden beams or hiding behind broken walls. Tousled hair, incandescent deep eyes and covered in rags. Some of them carried knives and machetes; the claws of the wild cats.

They're going to tear me apart, the Postman thought, stopping and raising his hands.

"I mean you no harm," he said.

The women quickly surrounded him, eager to touch him, but not daring to.

"What do you have for us?" They hissed, pointing at the Postman's bag.

"Sorry, but I have nothing for you. I'm on a whole different assignment."

"What is that?" One voice asked among the small crowd.

"I'm gathering the stories of our society. And how it ended."

"That's useless! We need news from those that are alive. Our brothers, husbands and sons." Another shouted. "Have you seen my man?"

"How is he called?"

"Gottlieb, the son of Helmut," she said.

"Well, well, you must be Marien then..." the Postman said. "He said I'd find you here."

"Have you seen him? Is he well? Please, please tell me everything!"

"He's a dead man. Your name was the last word that crossed his lips."

"Oh Gottlieb!" Marien shrieked, falling on her knees, with the hands tied together between her legs. "Why have you left? What happened to him?"

"I don't know, but I saw him on the road. I'm afraid that you'll never see him again."

The rest of the women hugged and kissed Marien.

"What about the others? Have you seen anyone else?"

"Peter and Georg didn't make it too."

Another wave of wailing and tears.

"Where can I spend the night in this town? Will some good soul gimme shelter?" The Postman asked.

A huge arguing broke among the women about who would receive the Postman for the night.

"Thank you all for your hospitality, but I'm staying at Marien's. I owe that to her."

The crowed followed them to where Marien lived; some children were also coming to see him, leaving their hideouts.

"For how long will you stay?" The women asked the Postman.

"I'm leaving the first thing tomorrow morning. I don't have time to lose."

Marien led him three flights upstairs and showed her apartment.

"It's not being easy on us. Almost all the men left looking for a better place for us. None of them had returned. Only the elder and the children stayed. We're on the brink of desperation here."

"Everywhere is the same. There is no peace anywhere in this world." The Postman said. "But you'll survive. Some of you will, at least."

Marien served him wurst and whole bread. She also brought him a bottle of beer.

"I was keeping it to celebrate Gottlieb's return. I have no use for it anymore."

The Postman drank the beer, got up and walked to the window. The main square was completely empty, with the cobblestones shining like burning coals at the sunset light.

"For how long have you been here?" He asked.

"Since the beginning," she said.

"It seems to had been a nice place to live." He said, taking another sip at the warm beer.

Marien didn't say a word, hiding her tears with her shawl.

The Postman did not feel sorry for her. He wasn't lying after all. Gottlieb could not be dead yet, but he would die soon. The one thing he was sure of was that Gottlieb wouldn't be back to his wife. He was a dead man walking. He could be dying at that very moment, while Marien was mourning him.