A Murder in Auschwitz (Sampler)

by JC Stephenson

Auschwitz, 30th July 1943

  MEYER was woken by banging on the door and pushed himself up from the bunk. The hut was dark, but enough light from the full moon outside flooded into the building through the broken windows that he could see that everyone was asleep except him.

  There was another banging on the door. Then he saw Langer in the moonlight, limping towards the doorway. Langer's limp was always worse in the morning. This was the result of a broken ankle from his

  bank-robbing days. He was lucky that he could walk at all, as it was a break which had never healed properly, but then, Langer had never had it set by a doctor.

  Meyer saw him open the door and speak to someone outside. Then Langer’s hand went out and brought in the person who had been banging on the door. It was Klara.

  Meyer couldn’t believe his eyes. His breath left him as he watched Langer bring her over to him. Both Langer and Klara were smiling.

  Meyer reached out his hands, waiting for her to take them.

  Langer was the first to speak.

  “Your wife has some wonderful news, Herr Meyer.”

  Meyer stretched his arms forward. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and he felt tears prick his eyes.

  Her kind face was an open smile as she started to explain her presence. Her beautiful brown eyes and those lovely creases at the corners from years of laughing and joyful life.

  Klara was wearing the blue summer dress with little white flowers that he had given her for her birthday, and he was pleased that she didn’t wear the harsh cloth of a prison uniform. Her hair was held in place with her favourite large, black clasp, and around her neck was her silver locket. She even had makeup on. And then he heard her voice. It felt like he had not heard it for years.

  “It was a mistake, darling. We shouldn’t be here, and we will be leaving in the morning.”

  Meyer couldn’t speak. He was so happy. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had felt this happy. Then he managed to get out the words that he longed to say, “I love you, Klara.”

  Then he asked where the girls were.

  “They are already at home with my mother, darling, waiting for us.”

  Meyer was happy that the girls were not in the camp. They were with Klara’s mother. As long as they were safe.

  Klara kept smiling and walking towards him. His arms were still outstretched and he tried to reach her, hold her hands, touch her face. But even though she was walking towards him, she wasn’t getting any closer.

  Then there was a hand on his shoulder. It was Geller. His mouth was moving but no noise was coming out.

  There was silence and everything became very slow. Then suddenly there was noise. And cold.

  “Manfred!” Geller said, “We have to get up.”

  Meyer’s eyes sprung open, allowing a well of tears to escape down his face.

  “Are you alright, Manfred?” asked Geller.

  All around them, prisoners were being bustled out of their bunks, while Langer shouted insults as he limped around the hut.

  Meyer turned to Geller, the pain and sorrow biting into his soul.

  “Anton, I dreamt she was here.”

  “Who?” asked Geller, pulling on his clogs.

  Meyer wiped away the tears from his cheeks, struggling not to allow his face to crumple. The stifled sob forced him to suck in air.

  “Klara. I dreamt she was here. Oh God, I love her. Anton, what will I do?”

  Geller put his arm around his friend’s shoulder and led him out into the cold of the night.