A/N: So we're doing a "decades project in Social Studies and my group got the 30's. This is what resulted. Eh heh. Aherm.
Kristallnacht
The Night of Broken Glass
There was no moon.
The only light to see by was a dull, throbbing red-orange, cast by the flickering echoes of burning buildings.
There was no sound.
All the normal nighttime creatures had long since fled; frightened away by the multitudes of screams that had filled the night.
There were no people.
Save one- a lone man in the uniform of the Füher who walked along the tormented streets. He made no noise except for the crunching of his boots on the millions of shards of broken glass. Broken dreams. Broken hopes.
The firelight gave him a ghoulish appearance as he made his way toward an unknown destination. Deep shadows for eyes and mouth, he could be a demon straight from Hell.
In a sense, he was.
The man walked past burnt and broken bodies of people who had lived and worked in the buildings that had been rent asunder without remorse. Without regret, without sorrow. Without emotion. If a body lay in the man's bath, he would step over it as if it were only a child's lost toy to be swept away and forgotten in the next rain.
In a sense, they were.
His Füher was the man who had let this abomination happen. His Füher was the man who would strive to take over the world. His Füher was the man who would murder approximately 6 million innocent people. All in the name of the German people. This man chose to follow his Füher because he was the German people. It would not be right for him to let dishonor fall onto his shoulders. Even though it was already there.
In a sense, it was wrong.
In a sense.