I woke up with this idea and wrote it over breakfast. There are few fanfics I've written that were so willing to be written
The two boys were sitting on the ground, each at a different side of the fence. They did not seem bothered by the presence of the wire that separated them, instead they ignored it fully. One was clothed in a striped outfit while the other was wearing rather regular clothes, although not any you'd ever find in modern times.
They two boys, probably no older than eight, were engaged in low and solemn conversation. There was nothing cheerful about them, as children of that age should be, instead they seemed grieved. He drew nearer, trying to make out their conversation but he couldn't understand it, the language they spoke was foreign to him.
Yet he drew even closer. He remembered something about this, it was vaguely familiar. The fence, the striped clothes, the barracks behind the fence, he had heard about it all once, he just couldn't place them. It allured him a bit, but it also annoyed him.
In his mind he heard a distant but dear voice that said something he had heard a long time ago. 'We were horrible, they were horrible, it was all horrible.' Somehow that sentence connected to this, he just had a hard time remembering who had said it and what that person had talked about.
"Wait", the boy in the striped clothing said suddenly and the spirit stopped merely out of surprise that he had understood something one of the boys said. "You don't belong here."
"Shmuel, who are you …" The other boy fell silent when he too spotted the young man who was standing a bit behind him.
"No", the man breathed, it being the first word he had spoken for at least a hundred years. "I don't."."
"You're dressed weird", the boy on his side of the fence said and looked at him with awe. Even though he found the clothing odd, he was intimidated.
"Are you a king?" Shmuel asked curiously.
"Not anymore", the man said.
The two boys exchanged a glance and both flew to their feet. Neither seemed to notice that the force they had used had propelled them slightly into the air and their feet did not touch the ground anymore. Instead they hoovered above it, even though just by a centimeter.
"Cool!" the one who's name was yet unknown to him called out. "I've read about kings. They live in fortresses with lots of servant and they have large armies to conquer the lands of their neighbors. Did you conquer many countries?"
"You're younger than my father. I thought kings were old men with beards", Shmuel said with a frown.
"No", he said again, answering both questions. "I didn't conquer any countries, I just wanted a peace and welfare for my people."
The boy on his side of the fence looked disappointed but Shmuel's face lit up. "You sound like a good king! Can't you become king on this side of the fence? The guards here aren't very nice, we're not allowed to leave."
Cold chills went down his spine as he looked up and at the area behind the fence. There was no one there, no guards, no other people, no one. The boys didn't know, hadn't noticed. How sad. He sighed and didn't answer, what could he answer to that?
"I'm Bruno", the boy with the normal clothing said and when he continued he sounded suspicious. "And you don't look like any king I've ever seen before."
"Perhaps king is not the right word. I was pharaoh", he explained briefly.
Bruno gawked. "That can't be!"
Shmuel just looked plain confused. "Bruno, what's a pharaoh?"
Bruno spoke quickly as he explained to his friend. "They were living gods that ruled in Egypt a long time ago. Like, thousands of years ago. So you must be lying, there are no pharaoh's in Egypt anymore. Liar!"
The pharaoh smiled uncomfortable, he didn't have the heart to tell these two boys the truth. How could he tell them that they were dead? That the only reason they could see him was because all three of them were dead? "You said it yourself, Bruno, pharaohs were living gods. Gods don't die. We don't disappear."
"Then why are there none left in Egypt?" Bruno asked accusingly.
"Because the people of Egypt had to learn to take care of themselves. They learned to work together and build a country the way they wanted it to. It took some hardships, a few bad leaders followed, but they managed it." He recalled that. The dear voice in his head, the one he could not place anymore but that was so important to him had once told him that. 'The people of Egypt are fighting. They want their own rights, their own freedom, they want to be able to choose.' That voice had long since stopped saying things to him, it was a mere memory now. A memory far over a hundred years old and it pained him it wasn't with him anymore. But by now the people of Egypt lived at peace again, like he had wished for them. His people, all of them, dear to him.
"That's awesome", Shmuel said and clapped his hands enthusiastically.
Bruno was still suspicious. "Then how come you can understand us, and we you, if you lived in Egypt?"
"I know a lot", the pharaoh said, "I can do a lot. I can make you speak a special language that everyone can understand, even me. What do you think you speak?"
Shmuel looked amazed and joyous while Bruno didn't seem to like it. "I only speak German."
"I can assure you that I don't", the ancient king said with a soft smile, before it dawned on him. German, the boys spoke German. The striped clothes, the fence, the barracks, everything made sense now, with that last clue in place. The voice in his head had once told him about a war, a war where some people were exterminated for no adequate explained reason. The voice in his head had mentioned the reason, but he didn't recall it, he only remembered finding it foolish, so foolish even that he had concluded that they must have just picked on random.
And Shmuel was one of them, he could tell by the way the boy looked. The shaved head, his malnourished body and the tired eyes witnessed of´it. But Bruno wasn't, so what was he doing there? It made them an odd pair.
Shmuel was jumping up and down with eagerness, clapping his hands even louder. He hadn't noticed the sudden saddened expression on the dead pharaoh's face. "You really have to become king here! It would make this place so much better!"
The Pharaoh chuckled, a laugh empty of joy. There was no doubt that his interference only could have made things better, but he had not been alive when this had all happened and hadn't been able to do anything about it. He wished he could though. "I'd love to, Shmuel, but I can't. I must wander on. Us pharaohs aren't suppose to lead anymore. I can do something else for you though."
"What?" Shmuel asked eagerly.
"I can make you come over to this side of the fence without anything or anyone being able to harm you or anyone you care for", the pharaoh said. "If you like."
"Can you really do that?" Bruno and Shmuel asked simultaneously, both equally enthralled.
"Naturally", the king said and smiled.
"Yes, please!" Shmuel called out at once.
"Alright, watch closely!" the Pharaoh said and decided to act a bit, just for the sake of the boys. Just to make them believe it was his doing and no one else's, like that they could keep living their illusions that they were still alive. He spread his arms wide and spoke loud and clear: "I, Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, command you fence, to let this boy through to the other side!"
To the boys disappointment nothing spectacular happened, but the the pharaoh was self assured. He put a hand straight through the fence and waved it around a bit, passing right through the wires. "You see that? Now it will look as if there is a fence, but you can pass straight through it."
"I don't think I dare", Shmuel confessed and looked at the ground.
The pharaoh smiled in understanding. "I understand. Give me your hand", he said and held out his, through the fence, for Shmuel to take. The boy took it carefully. The king pulled him towards them, slowly but reassuringly and Shmuel followed. He bit his lip but an ecstatic expression showed itself when his arm passed right through the fence, followed by the rest of him.
Bruno did not waste any time, he more or less attacked Shmuel, giving the boy the biggest hug of his life. They danced around, yelling incoherent words happily. "Thank you!" Shmuel called out, he in his turn attacking the pharaoh, putting his arms around the waist of the late king.
The dead Egyptian patted his head gently. "You're welcome. Now I must wander on", he said to the disappointment of the two. "Be good, okay?"
The two boys nodded obediently. "Thank you!" they both called out as the Pharaoh turned away. The ancient king sighed silently, the two boys had managed to break his heart a little further. Now more than ever did he wish for the voice in his soul to be with him once more.
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