HAVEN BLACK - complete

LONG COLD NIGHT

Being conscious is a torment, the more we learn the less we know. Every answer contains a new quest, a quest to non-existence, a journey with no end.

-Mark Jansen, Epica.

Chapter 1 – LONG, COLD NIGHT

Somewhere in the Winter Frost of East Europe 1939

My heart thudded hard in my chest erupting a pounding into my ear drums. An acute adrenaline throbbed through my veins as I struggled with my petrified family to remain as still and silent as possible while we all huddled, shivering in the freezing cold in the roof of our small Albanian home. I feared immensely, like the other frightened faces that stared back at me, that if we moved, even an inch, dust would unsettle from underneath us and drift its way down onto the dinner plates of the Nazi soldiers that feasted in the room below. We would then be certainly discovered and the fate that awaited us would be agony from the deepest savagery of this cruel war. My family and I were not the lucky ones in this conflict; we didn't have blonde hair and blue eyes – we had the exact opposite; stark black hair and distinct black features that contrasted even against our slightly tanned, weathered complexion.

Smutty talking, vulgar chortles and the clinking of metal knives scraping porcelain plates muffled from below while my loved ones and I sat closely together quivering from the harsh cold; vapor ghostly hovering from our short, quiet breaths. An old large wooden chest sat a few yards away from me. A piercing ray of moonlight illuminated the comfort that sat atop the old chest – a thick woolen blanket. It seemed to beckon to me. Looking at my Grandma who was suffering from the cold with her fragile body, my hand waved slowly to signal to my father opposite me; he turned to face me, fear dominating his eyes.

He silently moved his lips and mouthed "what?".

Signalling at the warmth that sat on top of the wooden case, I kept my eyes locked on my Father's. He shook his head from side to side slowly; his lips moved silently but I could make out that he was saying "no, no, no"

The noise from the Nazi soldiers below seemed to get louder and I could only dread that they'd found my Father's cache of spirits in one of the kitchen cupboards and they were quickly becoming grossly intoxicated - I knew all too well the ill effects drunkenness could bring: Luckily my father was a happy drunk, but my uncle was very much the opposite; it felt as though he prayed on me at times, often staring at me with a sinister look, waiting for an opportunity to get me alone. Thankfully my father soon became aware of this and banished him from ever coming back to our home.

God I pray that they drink themselves into a coma so we can escape. The thought gave me a small glimmer of hope.

"Look at Grandma Father, she's freezing..." my daring whisper broke the long held silence. "...she won't make it the night, it's too cold... Father, please we have to help her"

My Father looked sympathetically at Grandma who was now struggling to keep her eyes open and was shaking visibly more than the other frightened, cold members of the family. He then turned to my Mother, who gave a weak nod of agreement before kissing my little Brother lightly on his head, who sat huddled into a ball on my Mother's lap.

Gazing toward the moonlit window, my Father paused in thought briefly before turning back to me with desperate eyes, whispering "Okay but be careful."

Leaning forward I gently placed my hands on the cold dusty wooden floorboards and pushed myself up slowly, my muscles ached from lack of movement. Pins and needles surged into my legs as I stood up and as my legs began to collapse under my petite structure, I instinctively cast my eyes up and caught sight of a rafter beam. Throwing my hands up at speed, I managed to grasp them around the beam; the house gave out a little groaning creak as they absorbed my weight. Looking down at my family with widened eyes, I waited as still as humanly possible...