What happened in our world is written by history - in Narnia by C S Lewis. I just borrow from both, when I do not create characters and stories of my own!
PROLOGUE
Stuttgart 1932
- "Sieg Heil; Sieg Heil; Sieg Heil; . . ."
The street was full of marching men, chanting their hails to victory in perfect pace with the noise of their stomping boots; young men, mostly; rootless males, not more than kids; who wanted to feel strong; who wanted to belong.
They had heard of the holy Empire, being the centre of Medieval Europe. Their family could tell of the great victory over France just 71 years ago, when a new emperor was crowned in Versailles; but also of the horrible long war ending in exhaustion and the need to surrender just at the brink of Sieg just when the enemy lines were broken through. Themselves remembered the republic, the poverty, the depression, the hyper inflation.
Can we blame them for dreaming? Can we blame them for joining a grass root movement who gave them a promise of stability, strength and a future for their crushed and downtrodden land?
Even now, so many years afterwards, knowing the horrors they had no idea they would set off, are we in true means to deny them the right to manifest their dreams; to give their contribution to a small, obscure party to win more seats in the parliament, der Reichstag in Berlin? Are we to judge history?
On a windowsill high above the street there was a girl watching the political demonstration below.
-"Ruth, what is happening? Please tell me what you see and what they do!"
The request came from a boy, half laying, half sitting in a bed; wheelchair at his side.
-"Ah, they are the same annoying boys as always; they who think they are already grown up, ready to tell us all what to think and what to believe. They have donned their brown shirts, riding pants and tall leather boots, and wear that bended cross on their arms. They are just passing, Karl, but we may need to wait for a while until we go out. Better they be far away first."
Karl had known his neighbour Ruth as far as he could remember. What he could not remember, though, was if he ever had been able to walk and run normally as other kids. Was he born with such weak legs, or had the muscles not grown properly? Or had there been some decease that stopped him from moving around freely as other boys? He did not know, and obviously Ruth did not know either. His parents never told him and if he asked they just changed the subject.
Having had some bread and tea while waiting for the chants and tramps outside to fade away and disappear, they joined forces to move Karl from the bed to the wheelchair in preparation for a long and happy Sunday afternoon outside in the Park. They would bring their own lemonade and cake, and then watch other kids play with balls or bicycles; some even riding ponies. That would be fun!
Outside the apartment where Karl's family lived, they entered the elevator, closed the door to it on the landing and then pushed the grating inside closed too. It was Karl's privilege to push the button to make the elevator slowly sink to the street level.
It didn't, however. Instead it began to move – upwards!