3. a little braver // new empire
wtf, i think i made this a mini fanfic without knowing. hihi.
[ chaelisa - drama, history, angst, fluff ]
Roseanne, an unlikely aspiring artist from East Berlin falls in love with Lisa, a quirky boozehound tattoo artist of the West as they share tales in between the barred walls of Berlin.
"Erected in the dead of night on August 13, 1961, the Berlin Wall was a physical division between West Berlin and East Germany. Its purpose was to keep disaffected East Germans from fleeing to the West. West Berlin exercises its capitalist power since it's been preoccupied by the Allied countries while the East were conquered by the communist governance of the Soviet Union. This was an indirect effect of the end of World War II and the fall of Hitler and Germany."
1961 | Mitte, East Berlin
The dewy breeze awakened the forlorn grass that has clearly been abandoned to outgrow the barbed fence and bob wires of the infamous wall. Roseanne, the volatile 18 year old grew up witnessing the post-war era age, but nothing changed much even after all the area settlements occurred. It still reminded everyone that they're in a society confined by a communist regime whose sake was to follow a one strict medium of governance. Throughout months before the wall was built many people have fled and escaped from this hell hole ever since they've heard the gleeful, westernized lives of the other side.
They grew curious, envious, and thirsty for a place abandoned by dictatorship. They seek west as the epitome of liberty in which the east lifestyle couldn't provide. And Roseanne could only dream of living such freedom for she knew she cannot fathom the nature of her life. She belongs here. Her blood runs through the vile ancestry of the Russians and Germans, her loyalty only bows down to their ambitions, and her life dedicated only to live the teachings of the culture. In which she is forever forsaken - and she knew of that.
She knew too fully that she had betrayed herself from the freedom that she needed. And it wasn't even her fault, it was the war that changed the Germans. It was Hitler. It was Kennedy. It was the Axis Powers. The Allied Powers. The Holocaust. The Americans. The Russians. The British. It was everyone who engaged in battle and loss their lives for the salvation of their nations' territorial ego. It was everyone beyond Roseanne's power to control, and yet she has so much to sacrifice still.
Now she's just busking her skin wherever the sun is bright and peaceful. At least it gives her just enough freedom and air to breathe to keep her sanity. Even just for the time being.
She's at her usual place, for five years since she discovered it. No one has ever come to the park since the cold war between the west and east Berlin started to simulate the tension, they didn't want to get too close to the barricade or they might be dead in a gunshot. But Roseanne was profound of it, she seemed more curious about the other side rather than the death that was casted upon thy land.
So she sits there, in an old rugged bench cemented just five meters away from the wall. She swivels her head down as she pens the small robin resting it's feet under the bob wires. "Stay still little fella." She mutters as if the creature responds. Roseanne continued to sketch the bird into the blank pages of a notebook she saw in the attic back home. She plans to fill it with whatever she saw fascinating in her eyes. A secret pastime she learned out of habit.
"Sketching again?" A voice of a woman that's familiar to her heart caught her attention. She stops then turns around and sees Jennifer, the lady of the moonlit lilac night, that's what Roseanne has always thought of her. "Out in a sunny day? That's unlikely of you." Roseanne uttered as the older girl who fancies the moon rather than the king of the day, sits beside her. "Don't mock me. At some days the sun can be friendly. And today is one of those days." Jennie moves her head up and stretches her neck up in the sky as her cinder shades reflected the morning rays. She smirks out of content as the gentle breeze honeyed her skin. Then she exhales.
YOU ARE READING
memoirs; oneshots
Fanfictionthey say one that conceives a broken heart could be greater than a writer, a poet and an artist combine and that stands true for these broken hearts as they confess the realities of their love stories, and in between the words that they've written t...
