... I would like some opinions and constructive cricticism if you can offer it. Keep in mind that this is a very, VERY rough draft. It's a work in progress, so don't expect it to be 100% perfect yet.
Frieda awoke to the sound of loud, beating music coming from the street outside her apartment. She snarled. She never did take well to being woken from a sound sleep. Still, she figured that whatever it was would stop after a while and she’d be able to return to her slumber; as loud as these Berliners were, she couldn’t fathom even they would tolerate such a racket for long. After about 10 minutes though, when that still hadn't happened, she finally decided to get up and see what all the ruckus was about. She went to look out her bedroom window and saw there was a parade going on outside. Decorated floats were making their way down the street. One of them had a live band performing on top of it, they were the ones responsible for her rude awakening. On the sidewalks, crowds of people cheered, some of them waving little miniature flags of the German Federal Republic. Was it still called that? Or was it just the German Republic now? It didn't make much sense to keep calling it the “Federal” Republic of Germany now that the GDR wasn't around anymore, did it?
For a while she just stood there, listening to the music. It certainly sounded different from the music of the old GDR. Of course, she had never been to Berlin or any other major city during those days, but from time to time she still caught some of the military parades and celebrations on the old black and white television. The people were also different. Before it was as if they were just going through the motions. There was a cold look of resignation about them. It was a look she knew well; it was the look almost all of the girls they took had after they’d spent two or three days locked in the boiler room. Now they were reinvigorated. Of course it didn't make a lick of difference to her. She didn't even know the GDR was gone until one day, when Carl came back from his weekly trip to town to buy supplies, rambling on like a madman about how everyone was in an uproar. That the wall in Berlin had been torn down, and that all the Russian soldiers were retreating back across the border into Poland. She didn't really understand what he was saying at the time, nor did she particularly care. Even if it was true, what did it matter? Nothing ever changed in that godforsaken corner of the world, especially not for them. They’d just go on with their lives as if nothing ever happened, like they had always done. At least that’s what she thought at the time.
Eventually, the parade started moving away from her apartment, closely followed by the cheering crowds. The music started dying down, but it was too late now. She couldn't go back to sleep. She went to the bathroom to take a piss but stopped when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. She looked dreadful, her hair was so greasy it looked like it was soaking wet, her face was completely discolored, and the bags under her eyes made it look like she hadn't slept in weeks. Hardly surprising seeing she hadn't showered or washed in months, and her last change of clothing had been what? Three, four weeks ago? Her smell was quickly becoming overpowering, and it was wretched. She never paid much attention to her appearance before and had even less reason to do so now that he wasn’t around anymore. She’d grown up and lived her entire life in filth, and it took more than a little muck and an unpleasant odor to bother her. But she worried that it might be getting to a point where she would start drawing unwanted attention to herself. And after what happened in Silesia, she knew all too well how dangerous that could be.
She had to wash. After taking care of what brought her to the bathroom in the first place, she put the water running and began to undress. Once the bathtub was full, she went inside. She grabbed a bottle of washing cream and sponge that were lying nearby, poured some of the it on her breasts and started scrubbing. Like her brother, her true brother, not that prattling idiot Carl, Frieda had an uncanny ability to completely shut out the outside world and focus entirely on the task at hand. Whether it was cooking that lamb stew that the two of them so enjoyed, mending and fixing their bedsheets so they wouldn't go cold at night during Winter, or helping him get rid of their latest plaything after it inevitably broke. She would focus all her attention on it, not allowing anything or anyone to distract her and not stopping until it was done. But try as she might, she just couldn’t get into that mindset now.
She leaned back on the bathtub, letting her entire body safe for her head be submersed under the water, now tepid and blackened. Where was he now? Where was her Georg? Was he dead? No, he could not be, she’d know if he was. No, he was still out there somewhere, looking for her. Her true brother, her champion, her Sigmund…
06 Aug 2015, 9:09 pm
