Disclaimer
I don't own the characters from inglorious Basterds
Apart from Aleida and her family. I don't know where this is going to go but we shall see.
Please try and review it. This first chapter has took me weeks to write as I didn't want it to be boring.
I kinda took the style of death from the book thief
So thank you
Happy new year, my loves.
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Chapter 1: Prologue
"Never, never, never believe any war will be smooth and easy, or that any one who embarks on that strange voyage can measure the tides and hurricanes he will encounter" - Churchill
Here is a simple relevant fact, one day you will die. This book will neither tell you how to die or simply when.
Hemingway once wrote that the Germans were not successful at winning the war because they were superman, but because they were simply practical professionals in war who had abandoned all the old theories and developed practical use of weapons and statistics to the highest point of common sense that has ever been reached. Sounds like common muck to me, in the end German's ended up using old weapons and foreign weapons to try and win the war, they also tried to attack Stalingrad in the winter, and look what happened there? Death.
People think when you die, you will see a bright light and be taken away while a choir of angels see your graces but in reality, it's more harsh than that, while your cold body is laying on the ground, the final croak of your last breath took, that's when I come in the picture. I would say a group of angels taking you to heaven while singing would be amazing but unfortunately when there's a war no one believes in heaven and hell, they're merely fighting to survive.
Those who are merely fighting to survive. Those are the ones you need to be careful of.
They've been left behind by others and carry on surviving, somehow, merely the lucky ones. I have countlessly witnessed on many occasions of those who are merely fighting to survive, they have punctured hearts, beaten lungs. Which brings me to the subject of this introduction. It's the story of those perpetual survivors - experts of being left behind.
It's just a small story, about, among other things:
A Austrian girl
Some Fanatic Germans
The Bear Jew
Some words
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August 1912, Vienna Austria
Diphtheria.
The kiss of Death.
Diphtheria killed at least 50% of their victims within a week. This was the first time I met our lucky adventurer, she was only 4 months old. Her father had been a lucky adventurer as I met him once before in the trenches of the first world war. I was hoping Diphtheria would kill the entire family but at last she escaped my clutches.
It was August 1912, 4 months after our lucky adventurer was born.
Her father had already buried her mother and 2 other siblings, now it was just her and her older brother, if she made it. Her father was over the moon when Aleida was born, 3 sons and then his wife gave him a beautiful daughter. That's if she made it.
Diphtheria.
Known to cause blockage in the airways.
Known for difficulty breathing and / or rapid breathing.
Known for death.
It took 6 days to kill her mother.
Might take less to kill her that was until.
"Papa," the little boy cried out as his sister had started to whine, Otto didn't believe it but by sheer luck after the smell of death had lingered in the house, the little girl had started to breathe properly and correctly on her own. She didn't need the assistance of the makeshift tube that the doctors had given her. It was a miracle.
Otto started crying, frantically at his little girl who had just finished coughing up the last of the mucus that engulfed her throat. She was alive and well.
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September 1940, Paris France
The second time I met our lucky adventurer, again the death of linger fell in the air. She was located on the 6th floor of the Hotel de la Marine. The air was filled with death, victims and survivors were beaten to death, people threw themselves out the window to escape the clutches of the Third Riech, maybe Aleida shouldn't have punched the young officer but her son meant more to her than most.
"Tell me your name," the older man screamed at her. She smirked and pointed towards her papers, another fist slammed into her jaw, "No tell me your name, whore!" the man screamed again, that was until a knock at the door happened. Aleida observed her new location, the light swung from one end of the room to the other and to her it looked like the bulb didn't work as well as the room was quite dark.
She tried to shake her right arm that was close to the table, she shook and shook until she realised that her hand was handcuffed to the small blot on the table. She let out a sigh and placed her head down. She felt as if she had already lost. Her face was swollen, falling in and out of consciousness. It felt like it had been days since she had been left there, in the dingy dark room with no water or food. If this was the end then clearly it was going to come quickly.
"Leave her," she heard a Berlin accent repeat to the man that was just beaten into her face. "I'm sorry Mademoiselle" while he pulled out the other metal chair on the other side of the table. She could hear the older man leave the room huffing and grunting as he felt like he wasn't doing his job right.
She felt the handcuffs of her right hand come loose, as she looked up at the man who was saving her life, within her cloudy vision she witnessed the young man pull out a shiny cigarette box with a swastika engraved. Aleida smirked and threw her head back, and as she started to laugh a bubble of blood started to leak out of her mouth.
And that's when I knew she was going to survive and I wasn't needed anymore.
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April 1945, Outside of Paris France
The third and last time that I met her, our lucky adventurer had run out of her three lives. The darkness of the hood had engulfed her, the smoke had filled her lungs, as soon as the hood was grabbed off her, she coughed and sputtered into the air.