Fireflies
It was dark out, ink black, with the song of nightly creatures singing softly. Fireflies blinked their luminescent light merrily, signaling to one another, not knowing or caring what happened in the lives of men. Ivan Braginsky walked alone in this seemingly peaceful scene, taking in the sweet summer air, relishing in the warmth of July. There were sunflowers blooming nearby, his favorite. Everything seemed so calm, so peaceful… but he knew that was going to change.
Calmly, the newly appointed Soviet Union walked into a house that held the prisoners. There was no smile on the large nation's face, not tonight. Tonight was to be a dark night… another terribly dark night…
The moment he entered the house, several men jumped and pointed their rifles at him. "Lower your weapons," Yakov Yurovsky growled to the ten soldiers that he had brought with him for his dark deed before turning to face his country head on. "The doctor is retrieving them."
Ivan merely nodded, face still undisturbed, but he was not smiling. His eyes trailed to glance out the window where the fireflies were blinking at him happily. He could smell the sunflowers that grew cheerfully just outside of these walls…
A moment later, the prisoners, lead by Dr. Botkin, came into the room. They all looked tired, eyes heavy from having just been woken. They all looked much thinner than Ivan remembered…
"Russia!" Nicholas cried the moment he saw the nation. "What are you doing here?"
"Follow me, sir," Yurovsky interrupted sharply, gesturing that the former Tsar and his family should walk down the stairs and into the basement below.
"Why?" Nicholas questioned, looking nervously between the Yurovsky, the soldiers, and the country.
"It will be more secure," the Bolshevik police leader said bluntly before walking down the stairs himself. The former royal family looked at each other nervously before following Yurovsky down, followed by a few of their servants. Ivan stood a moment longer, staring out the window. He wished that he could be one of those fireflies, without a care, simply bringing light to the world…
Turning sharply, he walked towards the stairs and walked down as well. He heard his former lady ask for several chairs, but the policeman ignored the request outright. "Please stand close together," Yurovsky said brusquely, his heavy brows knitted together tightly, making his features more severe.
"What for?" Tatiana, the second oldest girl, asked, her eyes wide with fear.
"A photo," the policeman gave a rather gruesome looking grin. Ivan looked away. "The public needs to know that you are all still in the hands of the Bolsheviks."
Slowly, the family and the servants did as they were told and lined up, ready to take the photograph. "I don't see any cameras," Alexei said, looking about. What a foolish child.
"You are right." Yurovsky's smile was like oil, black and greasy, polluting and foul. The man gave a quick call and ten soldiers proceeded into the room. The call was not Russian. None of these men were Russian, and their faces looked strange to Ivan, very cold, very…hungry…
"By the power invested in me, given to me by the Ural Executive Committee, I have been charged to kill you, for the good and glory of the Soviet Union," Yurovsky announced in a loud, commanding voice.
The entire family looked pale, tears were suddenly streaming from their wide, terrified eyes. "R-R-Russia! Please!" the former Tsar whispered hoarsely.
Ivan turned his head away. "For the Soviet Union," Yurovsky laughed cruelly. "Feuer frei!"
The ten soldiers, along with Yurovsky then proceeded to fire against the defenseless family and their servants. Ivan watched in silence as Nicholas and Alexandra fell and did not move again. They were dead. But the screams of the Romanov children rang loudly in the nation's ears as he watched them squirm and wreathe in agony. Frustrated by the lack of smooth excision, the soldiers charged forward and began stabbing the bodies with their bayonets, just as they would go through hay with a pitchfork.
The screaming continued as the girls did not die. Jewels and gems began falling out of their clothes; they had obviously been trying to save some of them. Alexei was no longer making any sound.
"Feuer!" Yurovsky screamed furiously. The ringing of the rifle fire off the walls was nearly deafening in that small twenty-five by twenty-one foot room. It was much too small to be doing something like this, but then again, this was a secret operation.
Ivan looked on in silence as they shot and kicked and stabbed at the former royal family, his face relaxed. He had been standing close enough to the carnage and he was sprinkled with the blood of his former rulers. He did not bother to wipe it from his face, however. A part of him knew he would just get bloodied again later.
As the room stilled and silence ruled over the night once more, the nation heard the clock from up stairs chiming. It was midnight.
That was it then. The plan had been successful. The Romanov's were dead. The last Tsar of Russia was no more.
"We need to get them out of here," Yurovsky spoke quickly and together he and the soldiers began picking up the bodies.
Ivan walked through the carnage and stared down curiously at the mangled corpses. How odd to think that these things had once been alive only moment ago…
One by one the men picked up the bodies to carry them out of the house and to the trucks to be disposed of. When two men picked up Anastasia, the girl cried out. Her anguished cry, so alone and in such agony was the last straw for Ivan. Something snapped inside of him and slowly a sweet smile crept onto his lips.
The two men that had lifted the body had dropped the girl again, taken by surprise. Ivan pushed past them and knelt down next to the young woman that had somehow miraculously survived the shooting and beating. Gently, he rolled her over so that he could see her face. She stared up at him, eyes filled with tears and pain. She was breathing heavily, blood leaking from the side of her mouth.
Ivan's smile only grew sweeter. "Spokoinoi nochi, Anastasia," he purred.
The Grand Duchess stared at her country one last time before she took her last breath and died.
The rest of the bodies were quickly moved out, but Ivan stayed where he was for a few moments before he stood, his smile never leaving his face. He walked slowly up the stairs and out of the Ipatiev House. He climbed into the truck that the bodies were being loaded into and waited patiently for the others to finish.
It did not take long and soon they were on their way. They drove for a little while before they stopped in a small wood. Ivan did not ask any questions, did not speak the entire trip even as the others rejoiced in their success. Getting out of the truck, he watched as the small army dumped the bodies into an old mine that was just outside of Yekaterinburg.
The men gave a slight cheer before heading back to the truck. "We did it, Soviet Union!" Yurovsky slapped the nation on the back. "You are free!"
Ivan stared down at the other man with his smile still firmly in place, but said nothing. It was true now, he was free of the tsars; he was free of the oppression and cruelty of the Romanov family forever. He was free to create a government that fought for equality and for the people. For the first time in a long time, Ivan saw an opportunity for him to do some good in the world. With that happy thought, he turned on his heels and began walking away through the woods. He did not stop even as Yurovsky called out to him.
He walked alone in the July night, relishing the warmth and the smell of sunflowers on the breeze mingled with the coppery scent of fresh blood. The fireflies lit his way, and now Ivan was ready to light the world with the full glory of communism.
Author's Note: I just finished writing a manual about traumatic brain injury! Huzzah! …and so logically I wrote this after…yeah… This is just something I did to have fun after spending a LONG time on homework and projects. Hope you like it. And yeah, this is when Ivan cracks…
History: The Romanov family (along with some servants) were killed July 16, 1918 at midnight in the Ipatiev House in Yekaterinburg. The family had been prisoners of the Bolsheviks since the Revolution the year before. They were murdered by Yakov Yurovsky who led ten Hungarian men. None of these men spoke Russian so they spoke German to Yurovsky. The Romanov's were told that they would be taking a picture and lined up perfectly for the firing squad.
Nicholas and his wife died almost instantly, but the children did not. The girls had been hiding jewels which gave them some protection. When they did not die right away, they were all kicked and stabbed with bayonets and then shot some more. Rumor has it that when they were carrying out the bodies, Anastasia cried out, that's where that legend comes from that she's still alive. The bodies were dumped in an old mine, but the next day were retrieved and buried somewhere else after being burned with acid and mangled some more.
People Who Were Killed: Nicholas II – the Tsar, Alexandra Fyodorovna – the Tsaritsa and Nicholas' wife,Olga Nikolaevna – the oldest daughter of Nicholas; she was 22,Tatiana Nikoalevna – the next oldest daughter at 21,Maria Nikolaevna – age 18, Anastasia Nikolaevna – the youngest daughter at 17, Alexei – the Tsarevich, 13 years of age at his death, Botkin – the family doctor, Trupp – Nicholas II's valet,Demidova – a maid, Kharitonov – the cook.
German: Feuer frei- Open fire/fire at will. (Thanks Rammstein! XD )
Russian: Spokoinoi nochi- Спокойной ночи- Good night.
