Disclaimer: I do not own "Eva," the awesome Nightwish does. By the way, I replaced the name Eva with "she" for obvious reasons. Neither do I own Hitler's Daughter because Jackie French wrote it. Duffi=Hitler. Heidi couldn't call him Father, so they made up a name for her to use. There's more you-have-to-read-the-book-to-know stuff, so don't ask. Just read the book. It's good.
6:30 winter morn
Snow keeps falling, silent dawn
There were jars of sweet jam and soft bunnies and autumn fields and sausage flecked with tasty bits of fat and a straw-padded hen-house she hoped so much to use. And there was Frau Leib, who taught Heidi so much. No, it was something that could never be taught. Frau Leib had shown Heidi what family was.
That's what she'd been missing so long. Heidi knew that she ought to feel blessed to have a whole shelf of expensive dolls when other girls were lucky to have milk at every meal, but she wasn't. She wanted the dolls no more than she wanted the blotch on her face. What she wanted was for Duffi to pin her school reports to the wall just like Herr Leib did with his grandsons', but that could never happen since she didn't go to school anyway.
There was Frau Leib and there was Fräulein Gelber and there wasn't Duffi. There were dolls and books and treats but no Duffi.
A rose by any other name
She leaves her Swanbrook home
There were times when Frau Leib would pat her dark head or joke with her or say something like "Erna, hand me that—" and then correct herself. And Heidi would wish that she didn't because, because…
Because when that happened, someone could have told Heidi that she was Frau Leib's daughter and Heidi would have believed it with her whole heart.
Those were small scraps, brief glimpses of normalcy, of what it felt like to be loved and cared for, of the ability to share your world with other people. Heidi treasured them, held on to them, just as she did her times with Duffi.
A kindest heart which always made
Me ashamed of my own
She walks alone but not without her name
She last saw Duffi in a curtain of shadows. She sat beside him in his car, felt his cold lips on her cheek, heard his mouth form around her name. All the sweet, daughter-like things she planned to tell him froze in his presence.
And then he drove away, out of the forest where his daughter was and into the war.
Heidi ran her fingers over the side of her face, over smooth skin and shrinking baby fat. She wondered what other girls thought when their fathers kissed them. Girls whose fathers didn't run a nation or section them off from the rest of the world. No matter. Duffi had taken the time to see her, to be with her. She had been his daughter and he her father in that rare and precious and brief moment. That was what she wanted most.
She flies away
Dreams the world far away
It was different when she slept, stepping into a realm of no concreteness, no reason, and no flaws. There, every girl was her father's daughter. Dreams took the sweet moments Heidi spent with her father and stretched them into spanning eons. Duffi's fingers traced her birthmark. He held her close and told her that he loved her.
"I love you, Heidi. I love you, my daughter…" The words would run through her dreams over and over.
And Heidi would smile, awash with happiness. "Father, I love you too," she would reply.
In this cruel children's game
There's no friend to call her name
Planes roared and bombs rumbled overheard, but no weapon could pierce Heidi's dreams. Duffi was there, all around her. Her loneliness never went away but at least, at the very least it faded for a while.
She sails away
Dreams the world far away
The Good in her will be my sunflower field
Heidi would linger with Duffi, suspended above reality until morning crept across the sky. Then, as she slowly wiped the sleep from her mind, she would glance around half-hoping that Duffi was still there. He never was. Only her glaring, perfect dolls.
His dolls.
Then, she left for Berlin.
Mocked by man to depths of shame
Little girl with life ahead
Heidi rode to Berlin clinging to a shred of hope that Duffi would be there, waiting for her.
By the time they arrived at the bunker, the countryside seemed to have vaporized. Explosions smashed in all directions, but the driver ushered them underground before Heidi could turn and clearly see where they were coming from.
He led her and Fräulein Gelber down a dimly lit corridor. Heidi looked at the nondescript doors and wondered which room Duffi was in. They passed soldiers, too. Most of them were too absorbed in the action to pay any attention to her. A few noticed, though. They looked at her wondering why the young girl was limping through their bunker. One soldier, when he saw Heidi, even covered part of his stubbled face with his hand, grinning.
For a memory of one kind word
She would stay among the beasts
Everything in the bunker looked drab, from the grey walls to the soldier's soiled uniforms. There was barely enough light to see because fuel, as well as almost everything else, was running low. Officers' voices rose from behind closed confines, yelling things about Russians and Americans that others were not supposed to hear.
Pow! Another explosion shook the bunker, grabbed and rocked it. Heidi stumbled back and pressed against the wall as more soldiers ran past her. When the floor finally stilled, Heidi's guardian took her hand and whispered, "Come on."
They finally entered their room. The driver left them with their suitcases. Fräulein Gelber closed the door to their corner of the steel-and-concrete world.
Time for one more daring dream
Before her escape, Edenbeam
We kill with her own loving heart
Heidi crouched against the wall, fingertips on the concrete. She felt the vibrations until her fingers were fuzzy. It seemed strange that she had to amuse herself by such means while men overhead were fighting for their lives.
The door opened, and a man with a moustache stepped in. Heidi scrambled to her feet. Had the Führer come? Maybe he would see that—
No, it wasn't him. When the man stepped into the lamplight, Heidi could see that it was only a soldier bringing them dinner. Fräulein Gelber took the tray of watery soup and dry bread, and Heidi sank back down.
She flies away
Dreams the world far away
Nighttime fell. Of course, Heidi couldn't see the sky darken, but she new that it was night when a few hours after dinner passed. Fräulein Gelber climbed onto the top bunk and Heidi lay down on the bottom, pulling the thin cotton blanket over her shoulders and closing her eyes.
She awoke after awhile to use the bathroom—or rather, the chamber pot. When she stepped out of the curtained alcove, the sound of boots pounding in the corridor had faded. She only heard one person stalking down the corridor. His footsteps were very heavy.
Heidi crept forward, the tiny pleats on her white nightdress brushing her toes. Surely, no ordinary soldier would be walking alone, walking slowly. She felt around in the soft darkness until her fingers grasped the cool metal doorknob and she eased it open. A sliver of weak light trickled into her room.
Heidi gasped.
In this cruel children's game
There's no friend to call her name
It was the Führer.
He didn't look at all like the proud photographs in the newspaper. He looked so raw, so tired, from the lines in his face to the brown-gray shirt hanging limply on his frame. He stared back at her, his eyes cold. Almost lifeless.
"Duffi?" Heidi breathed. Her voice barely louder than the thump-thump of shooting in the distance.
His mouth opened.
She sails away
Dreams the world far away
The Good in her will be my sunflower field
"Heidi!" cried Fräulein Gelber. She fumbled down the bunk bed and ran to the light, throwing her arms around the child. The door slammed shut. As she led Heidi back to the bunks, she said, "Heidi, please don't go outside. Don't even look. There's noting but trouble out there."
"Yes, Fräulein."
Heidi woke to the sound of soldiers shouting in the corridor. She sat up and looked at the door, wondering if last night had been just another dream.
This is my first completed fanfic and my first short story to pass 1,000 words. "Sunflower Fields" was also very difficult for me to write; there were some parts I had to force out of myself. Imitating the heartfelt simplicity of Ms. French's style was harder than I thought it would be. Please give me feedback on how I can improve!