War For The World

CHAPTER ONE

The last normal day of Joan Fischer's life went on to occur approximately one month later. It began like any other ordinary day, with a rude awakening courtesy of her neighbour next door. With the heat of summer in full swing, windows left open at night for cooler temperatures meant mornings were susceptible to the blasting volume of a radio set right in the middle of a window sill adjacent to Joan's own. Weather reports and propaganda filled the morning air for Joan and everyone else nearby to hear, such a contraption seemingly hell bent on starting everyone off on the wrong side of the bed. Unfortunately, this was a morning ritual that the deaf old man was unwilling to let go of no matter how many times she complained.

'The War effort continues. Remember, you should summon an officer from any local station if you suspect your relatives, neighbours or friends of harbouring an illegal alien. The Jewish race is a pestilent one and must be stomped out immediately in order to assure the Third Reich's future as a thriving species. Do your duty'

She sighed, managing to pull herself out of bed and reach down towards the pile of clothes lying where they were thrown the night before. Despite the comforting and warm beckon of sleep emanating from her bed, Joan was able to put on her navy green blouse and a fairly respectable skirt. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped for a moment, taking in the sight before her.
She'd seen better days, she was sure of this. Her jet-black hair, long ago the centre of many a hair straightening now lay in a frizzled nest atop her head. Hazel eyes fought for attention against a set of cuts that had no place being on a face that fair. Makeup from the night before had crusted and smudged, and bruises marked stories down her arms and legs. A small whitehead had burst during the night and she leaned in to get a good look, picking away at it as she left to make her way downstairs. She had assumed that sort of stuff would fade after her teenage years, entertaining such a notion that maybe 26 was the new 16. A life time ago she'd not been caught dead in her current state, but as of late it seemed to be her new public image. Sadly maintaining looks was a difficult thing to accomplish during wartime.

A loud thud came from her bedroom wall, a sound that a long time ago would have sparked curiosity and fear from within Joan's core. She ignored the noise.
A flurry of hands and paper sped past her as she opened her door, the thing was halfway down the stairs now and yelling
"My space book!"
Joan heard the door slam shut and she sighed, it was much too early in the morning for this. What was it they say; a mother's work is never done? The statement seemed accurate enough for her situation. The papers that she had now began to quickly pick off the floor belonged to her 6-year-old son Louis, the whir of energy that had nearly bowled her over just moments ago. Nearly tripping over her own feet she ran downstairs, making sure to grab any strewn pieces of paper that Louis had dropped on his tirade and proceeded to push past the door left ajar after him.
A hustle and bustle of people and soldiers, the streets of Dresden were alive with activity. Large buildings towered over citizens on each side, built in classic brick form and littered with windows. The tallest of them all, a bronze clock tower stood tall and firm in the middle of Dresden. No matter where you were within the city, the clock tower was always visible, a symbol of the town and its history. Down below, bricked roads mapped the city. There were dirty children on the footpath advertising wary newspapers, women performing their daily outing and the occasional businessman making his way to and from work. The city had the image of a well lived in house. Dirt and debris from small skirmishes lay on the footpaths and roads, German propaganda tacked onto nearly every barren surface they could find. Soldiers were everywhere too, you couldn't go one block without noticing one. Their stone-cold faces scouring the crowds, others would be running errands or talking to the people yet they still gave off the same aura. Something about them felt dirty to Joan.

Scanning the busy terrain she spotted Louis on the other side of the road. The small boy held a bunch of papers in one hand and was desperately attempting to grab with his empty hand the rest that were now littering the streets. One clutter had made its way back onto the road, and was now resting there delicately. Joan noticed him turn and head towards them, eyeing up his prized possession. In this split second, she also noticed the oncoming army vehicle full of soldiers, now barrelling down the road towards them.
Without thinking, Joan leapt into action. She pushed past an elderly couple in front of her and onto the road, grabbing Louis at the last second as the truck roared past with a blast from the horn for good measure.
Adrenaline still surging through her, she looked down at Louis. His black hair was now a mess and she could see tears were starting to well in his eyes from the shock of it all. Joan knelt down in front of him
"Louis you scared me half to death! You know not to play on the road. Especially when the soldiers are around"
A snivel from the boy as he held strong onto his salvaged papers. Joan wiped some dirt off his cheek
"My space book papers got sucked out the window so I had to save them Mummy"
He turned to look back onto the road, the last pieces of paper lying in ruins. A reminder to Joan that those pieces of parchment could very well have been her boy.
"Well you still saved some of them. Let's go inside and have some breakfast and you can tell me all about this space book of yours"
She forced a smile and received one in return. Louis was now intent on the idea of food.
"But remember, don't do that again. You scared mummy half to death"
The young boy nodded, grabbing hold of Joan's hand and making the short trip back home, making sure to look both ways before stepping onto the road.