Memories of Darkness
Author's Note: At last, another 'Allo 'allo story is out! This story is happening AFTER WW2, about 30 years ahead (which is 1975). There are no French people or British involved (sorry Cheo) but mainly focused on what happened to the Germans. Our main character is Herr Flick (gasp!) who wakes up in a hospital with some injuries, with the last three years missing from his memory. He finds out somebody tried to kill him, but slowly, the pieces are coming back.....
The characters are belonging to the series, not me, but there may be certain ones that belong to me. This is happening in Germany.
///////////////
Herr Flick walked down the street until he came upon the little shop he owned. Good. It was still working. He walked towards the building, and unlocked the shop door. He went inside. There were little changes made during the last three years.
Walking around the small, deserted shop, he went to a special set of stairs, that led up to his private chambers.
Flick went upstairs, into his modest bedroom, occupied by one bed and a desk to write on. There was a wardrobe on the side of the room. Herr Flick limped towards it (he still carried the walking stick around) and opened it.
He reached inside and pulled out his Gestapo black leather coat he used to wear such a long time ago. It was still beautiful and clean as ever.....it hadn't changed since the second great war....
A rustle coming upstairs caught Herr Flick's sharp ears. He put the coat back in the wardrobe, and he walked quickly over to behind the door. Somebody was coming upstairs!
Herr Flick raised his stick, prepared to strike. A small figure, clad in black entered the room. Flick almost jumped on the figure, when it turned around.
'Don't attack! It is only me!' squealed the person. The person looked familiar....
Herr Flick squinted at the small person behind his glasses. It couldn't be! After all these years!
'Von Smallhousen?' Flick gasped,' Is it really you?'
The former Gestapo partner smiled up at him, in his usual crawly way,' Of course it is me! I have heard about your accident! I came straight away to the hospital, but when they told me you left, I came here.'
'But I haven't seen you since the end of the war.....' Flick was running out of words in shock.
Von Smallhousen frowned,' Herr Flick, we have been seeing each other for the last three years! How could you have forgotten?'
Flick groaned,' I had a concussion. The hospital told me I have suffered memory loss, of the last three years.'
Von Smallhousen looked shocked. He lowered his voice to a whisper,' Then, my friend, you are in deep trouble. Do you know somebody is after you?'
'I have figured it out, but I cannot say who,' Flick answered,' I have short sudden bursts of memories that fill me up with feelings of sorrow and fear. Who is after me?'
'Some people whom you very well know,' Von Smallohusen said gravely.
'Don't speak in riddles!' Flick snapped,' Tell me now!'
'These are the Germans whom we spread fear from the war,' answered the small man.
'What? Colonel Von Strohm and Gruber? They are still alive after all these years?' Flick asked incredulously.
'Not only them,' answered Smallhousen.
'Is it......Helga?' Flick choked, as Smallhousen nodded,' but why? What I have done to them?'
'It is revenge.' Von Smallhousen stated,' For destroying something they all loved.'
'What? ' Flick pressed on.
Von Smallhousen looked up seriously,' For killing Gruber and Helga's son.'
The door downstairs burst open, and some people were coming in. Flick, though still in shock, turned around, but Smallhousen caught him.
'It is them,' Von Smallhousen whispered,' we must run!'
Flick shook his head,' We can only hide.'
They both ran into the wardrobe and crouched down among the coats. Herr Flick opened up the door a tiny bit, so as to see what is going on.
The footsteps were getting louder, as they were going up the stairs. Then, with a swift landing, the people entered the room. Herr Flick leaned against the door to have a better view of what was going on.
Three people entered the room. Flick leaned closer as gasped when he recognized the closest person next to him. It was Helga! Still lovely, even in her old age, with a tinge of tiredness towards her usual strictness. She was clad in a beautiful blue coat.
'He's not here,' she said coolly.
'Odd. I was sure he came here,' said an old man with a weaker gruff voice.
Herr Flick was shocked to see that it was Colonel Von Strohm. He seemed not well off, unlike Helga. He was merely a chauffeur. That left only......
'Look around here. He must be here somewhere,' came a familiarly soft voice only weakened by age: Gruber.
Herr Flick looked at the supposedly leader of the lot in wonder. Still the soft-spoken former Lieutenant was there, a bit shy, but always so careful when dealing with people.
How could the Lieutenant be so well off? It must be the paintings that he was so good at. He must have found work back at the art gallery after the war. Gruber's hair had gone a shade of pure white, Flick observed with some envy, unlike his own.
'The wardrobe is a bit open,' Helga's dangerous voice sounded in the room.
It was at that moment when Herr Flick wished his breathing would stop- which was a very silly idea, considered that he would die. He closed his eyes, somehow hoping this would pass. His steel nerves were long gone now....
'What have we got here?' Came Von Strohm's voice, sneering above him.
Author's Note: A cliffhanger! Come on, I hope this isn't boring! I hope I got the characters down correctly- they are old, and I feel as if I'm writing a pensioners' club! Come on, review! Please?
Author's Note: At last, another 'Allo 'allo story is out! This story is happening AFTER WW2, about 30 years ahead (which is 1975). There are no French people or British involved (sorry Cheo) but mainly focused on what happened to the Germans. Our main character is Herr Flick (gasp!) who wakes up in a hospital with some injuries, with the last three years missing from his memory. He finds out somebody tried to kill him, but slowly, the pieces are coming back.....
The characters are belonging to the series, not me, but there may be certain ones that belong to me. This is happening in Germany.
///////////////
Herr Flick walked down the street until he came upon the little shop he owned. Good. It was still working. He walked towards the building, and unlocked the shop door. He went inside. There were little changes made during the last three years.
Walking around the small, deserted shop, he went to a special set of stairs, that led up to his private chambers.
Flick went upstairs, into his modest bedroom, occupied by one bed and a desk to write on. There was a wardrobe on the side of the room. Herr Flick limped towards it (he still carried the walking stick around) and opened it.
He reached inside and pulled out his Gestapo black leather coat he used to wear such a long time ago. It was still beautiful and clean as ever.....it hadn't changed since the second great war....
A rustle coming upstairs caught Herr Flick's sharp ears. He put the coat back in the wardrobe, and he walked quickly over to behind the door. Somebody was coming upstairs!
Herr Flick raised his stick, prepared to strike. A small figure, clad in black entered the room. Flick almost jumped on the figure, when it turned around.
'Don't attack! It is only me!' squealed the person. The person looked familiar....
Herr Flick squinted at the small person behind his glasses. It couldn't be! After all these years!
'Von Smallhousen?' Flick gasped,' Is it really you?'
The former Gestapo partner smiled up at him, in his usual crawly way,' Of course it is me! I have heard about your accident! I came straight away to the hospital, but when they told me you left, I came here.'
'But I haven't seen you since the end of the war.....' Flick was running out of words in shock.
Von Smallhousen frowned,' Herr Flick, we have been seeing each other for the last three years! How could you have forgotten?'
Flick groaned,' I had a concussion. The hospital told me I have suffered memory loss, of the last three years.'
Von Smallhousen looked shocked. He lowered his voice to a whisper,' Then, my friend, you are in deep trouble. Do you know somebody is after you?'
'I have figured it out, but I cannot say who,' Flick answered,' I have short sudden bursts of memories that fill me up with feelings of sorrow and fear. Who is after me?'
'Some people whom you very well know,' Von Smallohusen said gravely.
'Don't speak in riddles!' Flick snapped,' Tell me now!'
'These are the Germans whom we spread fear from the war,' answered the small man.
'What? Colonel Von Strohm and Gruber? They are still alive after all these years?' Flick asked incredulously.
'Not only them,' answered Smallhousen.
'Is it......Helga?' Flick choked, as Smallhousen nodded,' but why? What I have done to them?'
'It is revenge.' Von Smallhousen stated,' For destroying something they all loved.'
'What? ' Flick pressed on.
Von Smallhousen looked up seriously,' For killing Gruber and Helga's son.'
The door downstairs burst open, and some people were coming in. Flick, though still in shock, turned around, but Smallhousen caught him.
'It is them,' Von Smallhousen whispered,' we must run!'
Flick shook his head,' We can only hide.'
They both ran into the wardrobe and crouched down among the coats. Herr Flick opened up the door a tiny bit, so as to see what is going on.
The footsteps were getting louder, as they were going up the stairs. Then, with a swift landing, the people entered the room. Herr Flick leaned against the door to have a better view of what was going on.
Three people entered the room. Flick leaned closer as gasped when he recognized the closest person next to him. It was Helga! Still lovely, even in her old age, with a tinge of tiredness towards her usual strictness. She was clad in a beautiful blue coat.
'He's not here,' she said coolly.
'Odd. I was sure he came here,' said an old man with a weaker gruff voice.
Herr Flick was shocked to see that it was Colonel Von Strohm. He seemed not well off, unlike Helga. He was merely a chauffeur. That left only......
'Look around here. He must be here somewhere,' came a familiarly soft voice only weakened by age: Gruber.
Herr Flick looked at the supposedly leader of the lot in wonder. Still the soft-spoken former Lieutenant was there, a bit shy, but always so careful when dealing with people.
How could the Lieutenant be so well off? It must be the paintings that he was so good at. He must have found work back at the art gallery after the war. Gruber's hair had gone a shade of pure white, Flick observed with some envy, unlike his own.
'The wardrobe is a bit open,' Helga's dangerous voice sounded in the room.
It was at that moment when Herr Flick wished his breathing would stop- which was a very silly idea, considered that he would die. He closed his eyes, somehow hoping this would pass. His steel nerves were long gone now....
'What have we got here?' Came Von Strohm's voice, sneering above him.
Author's Note: A cliffhanger! Come on, I hope this isn't boring! I hope I got the characters down correctly- they are old, and I feel as if I'm writing a pensioners' club! Come on, review! Please?
