Broken Wings

Scarring Sights

Else Schüffen-   Munich, Germany 1941

Why are they so cruel?

This question brewed in Else's mind like a rainstorm, clouding her vision of the world in front of her. It haunted her every day, each clap of thunder a reminder of their cruelty.

I only wish I knew the answers myself.

"Mama, I'm scared," Else whined, dipping her spoon in and out of her mush. It seemed to stare at her, its drab hue mocking her every movement.

"Of what? There's nothing to be afraid of darling."

Else gazed at the ground, choosing her words carefully. "I'm afraid to walk to school by myself. Myna's mama is driving her today."

"Else, there is nothing to be afraid of! You've walked by yourself countless times before you met Myna," Mama told her, laughing.

"I know. But that was different. The S.S. are worse now, and now I know how cruel they can be."

"Else, I know you are still angry with them, but we must forgive. Hitler will save us, and he needs these men to help him. Now, off to school, no excuses," Mama lectured, pushing her out the door.

The warm almost-summer air greeted her face, the sun warming the top of her head. Sighing, Else trudged across the burning cobblestone street, defeated.

"Else! Else!" Myna yelled as she hopped out of her father's shiny new car. Smiling, Else ran up to meet her.

"Is it okay if I walk the rest of the way with Else?" Myna asked through an open window. Her father nodded, and the two girls skipped ahead in the direction of the school building. When they were about halfway, however, a horrid sound rang in their ears somewhere in the depths of the alleys. Else and Myna stopped, glancing around in horror. And then, they just barely saw it.

An S.S. was beating a woman carrying a newborn baby. She bore the yellow star.

The baby was silent, limp in her mother's arms.

"Stop! Please! She's only a week old! You're a murderer! A murderer! A murde--" the woman screamed, stopped mid-sentence, falling to the ground. A pool of blood trickled through the cracks of the cobblestone. The woman lay silent, still cradling the baby in her arms.

Her hazel eyes pierced through Else's soul.

She felt a scream arise in the back of her throat. Tears dripped to the ground, leaving wet drops that glistened in sunlight. Everything became a blur. A blur of red, of gray, of hazel. The only thing Else thought about was the pounding of her feet that stumbled everywhere, sending a piercing pain through the soles of her feet. She didn't even notice her friend trailing behind, tears running down her face.

Else ran. She ran beside the creek. She ran amongst the trees. She ran halfway through the field of purple wildflowers and tall grasses. And then she fell to her knees. Myna found her friend cowering down in a patch of tall, green grass. She lay motionless, save the occasional rise of her back from sobbing.

"Else. Else! Get up. Please!"

"How can they be so cruel. How? I don't understand. Why them? I don't understand. I don't understand. I just don't understand," she sobbed.

"I know, Else. I don't understand either," Myna murmured tenderly, "but we have to go to school. We don't have a choice."

"Why bother? All we are going to learn about is how... is how that baby and the mother are a disgrace to society, and how we should not pity them! I can't go to school, Myna. I don't know if I'll ever be able to. My brother is a Jew."

"I know. Me neither. I hate school. I hate today. My favorite aunt is a Jew, you know. Somehow my family has found a way to hide that from Hitler," Myna whispered.

"Let's just stay here." Else gazed up at her friend, allowing a solemn smile to curve upon her lips. Myna put her arm around Else's shoulder, and together they watched the sun dance across the sky.

❀❀❀

"You didn't deserve to see that. I'm so sorry, honey, I'm so sorry," Mama whispered, squeezing Else against her torso. The little girl sat atop the kitchen table, her eyes fixed on the floor. Distress flecked her irises. Why?

"They didn't deserve to be beaten to death."

"There, your scrape is cleaned. Give me one minute to fetch a bandage," Mama said, tossing the bloodied cotton gauze in the trash can and rising from her chair.

Else fiddled with her pencil, distraught. "Why? Why? Why are they so cruel? I don't understand," she kept whispering to herself. She scarcely noticed the creak of the door, the pounding of footsteps. Nothing else seemed to matter now.

"I'm home!" Father called, setting his things down in the living room.

"Hallo, Father," Else said halfheartedly.

"How's my girl?" he said, then paused, "What happened to your knee?"

"I tripped." Else decided to not tell her father of today's instance. Would he even understand if she did? She bit her lip, praying that Mama wouldn't tell him. He wouldn't be very pleased if he heard Else had skipped school, anyways. After her knee was wrapped, she awkwardly dashed up the stairs, hoping to escape her father's questions.

She hadn't painted for several months.

Oh, how she had longed to pick up that brush, and to gently pull it across the canvas, dipped in passion and love. Though Else had only started painting last year, she had instantly fallen in love with it. It soon became a lost interest, however.

Until now.

It seemed painting was the only way to escape the horrors she witnessed today. And tomorrow. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the cover off her unfinished project, standing alone and forgotten, covered in a layer of dust and sadness. She took her box full of brushes and paints from under her bed, and scooped them up lovingly in her arms, admiring the vibrant colors of the paint and beauty of the brushes.

The brushes flew across the canvas, swiveling this way and that, leaving a trail of magic and beauty. Blobs turned into figures. And figures turned into pictures. She painted her hate. Her love. Her passion. All hidden in the depths of the picture. Several times her name was called, yet it went unnoticed. Finally, Mama appeared in the doorway. And she noticed something.

Her daughter was painting. Painting something magical. And it was good.

Good for somebody who's only started painting just recently.

And then she smiled, a gentle smile that would stop a baby's cry, and walked out the door.

Else painted until the morning sky showed off its cheery display of color.