Short Story: The white daisy

It was still dark in this nightmare that she was living in.

The sun had not even begun to rise yet but she was already outside, dressed in holey scraps of clothes that were stained with blood and who knew what else, they did nothing to keep the ice from her bones.

Her feet were so cold that it made it difficult for her to walk but it was more the dirt that bothered her. Her feet were covered in blood, deep purple bruises and ashes from the long walk that she was still enduring.

They said that they were free now.

They opened the huge, barb-wired gates and abandoned them to the unforgiving ice of the wilderness, those who refused to leave were shot, point blank, and thrown into the ever growing mass grave at the edge of the camp.

She had run, as fast as her feet would carry her, away from the horror that had become her life the day that the Nazi's decided that her faith was a crime, punishable by torture and death. She remembered the screams of that fateful night, the night that they came for them and dragged them from their warm, safe homes...

They smashed their windows, broke down their doors and burnt down their shops and homes with nothing more than grim efficiency.

They took them to the camps and they lied about what they were but deep down they all knew what these camps were for. They all knew what those God forsaken places were, what they were made for. They just did not want to admit it, to themselves or their loved ones.

Against all odds, she was free now, well as free as she could be, wandering from burnt field to abandoned town and back again.

As she walked, stumbled actually, she tripped over a small, crumbling branch and went crashing down to the blackened earth. She was too tired to even put her arms out to protect her face from the fall. Whilst she lay there, starving, exhausted and utterly hopeless, she saw a small spot of white illuminated by the rising sun.

A flower, a tiny sign of life in the middle of all this destruction and she couldn't help thinking that it was a sign.

A sign that meant that this too shall come to pass and there will one day be life here again.

The End.

Disclaimer: This is not historically accurate and should not be regarded as such.

Author: G.K Monroe February 2020