The Unknown Tales: A Collection of Short Stories, One Shots, and More

Our Story

We had to leave our beloved country. War ripped our homeland to shreds and our neighbors were gone to another place or dead. We knew it wouldn't be long before we joined them. We packed our belongings, as much as we dared and set out for the sea where surely someone would take us away. My wife, Rosalie, clutched our newborn child to her chest and in her satchel she held passports to America. We would go there to start anew and build a better life for our child.

"Franz." Rosalie pleaded. "Must we leave?" I nodded.

"Yes. We are not safe. We have been accused of housing the Jews."

"Who would do such a thing?" my wife panicked. Her green eyes vivid with emotion.

"Someone who does not like us." I told her. "War makes traitors of people. This is no place to raise a family." I said looking back to the war battered lands of Hungary, my home for all my life and generations before. I turned away unable to look anymore. "Do you remember what I told you?" Rosalie nodded. "Good. We will be known by different names in America, we will give our child an American name." I slurred in English. We had decided that once we left our country we would no longer speak in our native tongue ever again. Too many memories both beautiful and horrible danced in each syllable.

We sat on the deck of an old cart that was to take us through Slovenia and then we would sail through the Adriatic Sea and from there we would travel to the Mediterranean and on to the Atlantic Ocean. Many times we talked of going back but that was not an option. Soon there were strange lands and salty seas between us and what we once called home.

"Franz." Rosalie said wrapping trembling arms around me as we sailed into the treacherous Atlantic.

"Yes?"

"I'm scared. I miss our home."

"Hiányzik otthon is." I said for the first and last time. "But we cannot go back."

"What if America isn't what they say it is?" she asked hugging me tighter.

"It will be." I told her. "It will be."

...

Huge waves slammed onto the deck of ship swamping us and then sweeping away leaving us flopping like fish out of water. Anymore of this and I will be a fish. I thought to myself as yet another wave crashed on to the deck. It had been storming for seven days. There were times when I thought we would surely go down never to be seen again.

"Franz!" Rosalie yelled her blonde head appearing from the doorway to the gallows.

"Stay down there, Rosa!" I tried shouting over the roar of the storm. Rosa ducked back down out of sight. I returned my attention to the rope in my hands. Somehow I had to climb up the mast and replace another rope with this one. I had been elected to do it since I was the smallest and none of the crew could fit into the small place that needed repairing.

Tightening my safety line around my waist more securely I began the climb up. High speed winds ripped at my hair and cloths threatening to blow me away. Below the crew shouted encouragement even as they were swept to one side of the ship when a wave cashed overboard. All of the other passengers were below deck. I was up above only because I felt obligated to help the people who were helping me.

I reached the thinning part of the mast and could feel every jolt and shake the ship made tenfold. I shuddered and clutched the slippery ropes harder. Salt water and rain poured off me in rivers.

"I'll never be thirsty again." I muttered to myself swallowing a mouthful of salty water by accident. The salt burned in my throat and left me thirstier than I remembered being before. I pushed forward until there was no more rope only wood, sail, and air. I forced myself not to look down to the swaying deck below. Years of running along rooftops had given me a head for heights and good balance. But steady rooftops were nothing compared to the sickening lurching of a ship caught in a brutal storm.