Goldene Augen
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In Ihren Augen free porn video
In Ihren Augen
(German for In Our Love)
The day began as all the others did: gray and dismal, without a ray of warmth or pool of sunlight to be seen. Breakfast had come and gone, bringing much-desired pots of coffee and orders for me to supervise the unloading of the noon train. My chunky black boots crunched on the ash-laden ground as I trudged for what could have been my thousandth time to the train platforms. I traveled alone, with the exception of two or three workers who, having seen a superior approaching, ceased their toils and stood until I passed. The lifeless winter wind brushed against my flesh, burning my lips and ears as scarlet as the band on my left arm. I retreated deeper into my drab coat, securing it against my shivering body, my journey hastened only by the column of ebony smoke looming in the distance.
I can honestly say I never liked trains: the size, the smell, the sounds they make. As I approached the platforms, my comrades saluted my presence, and with as much eagerness as children on Christmas morning, turned attention back to the advancing diesel. At the same time the train penetrated the cast iron gates and entered the compound, I suddenly noticed how uncomfortable my uniform was, how starched and stiff the fabric felt against my skin. My comrades were all around me, waiting, ready with ledgers in their hands and dogs at their feet. The mighty black diesel screamed a final warning whistle, huffing, puffing, and threatening to dock with or without our consent. I took a deep breath as it fired its initial brakes, and tentatively reached into my coat, secretly resting my frostbitten fingers on a tiny gold ring, my good luck charm, kept forever suspended around my neck.
The last time I found myself waiting for a train was two years ago, at the old village station. I remember the anticipation, the worrying, the hum and rumble of someone else’s train roar past, my luggage three weeks planned and packed, and a tiny gold promise waiting in my pocket. But Vera, my Vera, never came. She was two blocks away from me, from our freedom, when she was bitten by a lead bug meant for some delinquent Jew kid. It came rapidly – the pain, the funeral, the memories…
The loud clang of the now halted train startled me, demanding my thoughts be focused on the metal beast resting before me. Holding back tears, I watched my comrades snap into action, prying and pulling open the iron doors that held captive the cargo. The diesel shuttered like iron death, and in one instant, vomited a sea of souls, all anxious and bewildered as to where they found themselves standing. My associates quickly filed through those pouring from the diesel’s open wounds, labeling, cataloging, selecting those who would live and those more fortunate. I stood apart from the chaos partially lost in a world all my own, mildly interested in the speed and efficiency of my comrades as they unloaded the diesel beast.
After an hour or so elapsed, the train, gutted and cleaned, uttered a last, mournful cry for its ill-fated cargo and lumbered away from the platform, fading to a monotone gray as it disappeared into the horizon. The transported men and women, standing in the shadow of the now-forgotten world, were divided and torn up into six ridged sections. The old and meek, as well as the children the mothers wept for, stood from their sections like wildflowers in a barren field and were lured away, never to see another sunrise or snowfall again.
Once the sections had been assigned, two of my fellow equals and I took charge of our designated, temporary flocks. While my comrades related instructions to the timid people, I walked around them, interested in know what they looked like. In the years I had been at my job, I had reached one conclusion: no matter where they came from, they all looked the same. Same dead eyes, hair, lips, expressions, all gray and bleak. I finished my personal rounds, walking through the middle and both sides of my sections, and I wondered why I sometimes didn’t draw my gun and put these people out of their misery, instead of letting them breathe. Returning to the front of the flocks, content that the sheep I had allotted were just as gray as the sky that faced me each morning, I barked orders for these creatures to be put to work. My associates nodded, and hoisting their weapons into view, marched two flocks down opposing sides of the main road. I watched them file away and, deciding to return to my quarters until after lunch, I headed down an adjacent road when a brief burst of light caught my eye.
I turned in the direction the radiance had sparked from and noticed a girl laughing at the end of the women’s flock, a shawl delicately draped over her head and part of her back. The mercury fabric had snagged my attention, reflecting whatever sparse light the sun had to offer. Out of a tear in the back of the shawl was one long, dark curl, streaming like a banner at a parade. She must have felt my eyes on her, for as she passed no more than fifteen feet before me, she lifted her shawl and stole a glance in my direction. She returned my gaze for no more than a breath, looking both curious and frightened. She hurried past, catching up to the others, and I remained stationary but now speechless. In the same moment, I reminisced sliding through waves of the same cascading curls, touching the same face that had marched before me. The girl I had just spied was a picture of my Vera, my lovely Vera, and though long lost to me, I felt her presence for a brief second in the face of this unknown beauty.
The memories withered as the girl faded away, and time discovered me quietly fingering my good luck charm, wondering what had just happened. I turned to my quarters, looking at nothing but coal-colored buildings and ashen people, not being able to get her blue eyes out of my thoughts. Only one thing was clear: I must have her.
I watched her for the remainder of the week. From her work in the fields, the morning assemblies, behind the mud-washed window panes of the dining hall, I focused each and every minute I could afford into memorizing the shape of her body, the fluidness in which her fragile arms and legs flowed, the same royal blue in her eyes that I had been seeing and dreaming through for the last 23 years. I couldn’t recall anyone, save for Vera, who had captivated me in such a manner.
I made my advance two weeks after she had departed from that fateful train and stepped into my presence. The frigid night air was still dead, exaggerating every sound my boots made as they touched the ground. For the first time, the stars could be seen, twinkling and playfully illuminating my path to her sleeping quarters. I nodded to a lesser associate posted outside of the door to her barrack, and after a brief exchange of reason, he returned my smile and I gained entrance to the shelter.
As I crossed the sterile doorway, the women jumped from their beds, if they could be called beds, and stood in lines in the dusky moonlight. I made my way slowly through the tiny room, peering into each of their tired faces until I was standing in front of her. I faced her, now more beautiful than I had imagined, and motioned for her to follow me. As we silently exited, the other women, their respectful faces turned down as I passed, looked to the girl with sympathy, and I was surprised that a prayer wasn’t offered out into the night.
I led the girl from her quarters to my lodging. It wasn’t uncommon for anyone of importance to take one of the worker girls for a night or two, and she must have been used to this treatment, for as I closed the door to my cabin, I turned to find her already sitting on my bed, unbuttoning her moth-eaten shirt.
‘Nein,’ I said softly, leaning forward and refitting her shirt onto her naked shoulders, ‘I don’t do that here.’
She looked at me through wild blue eyes, relieved but confused. I moved away from her to a tiny gray stove next to my bed and lit it to heat a small kettle of water. Her at
tention never left me as I scurried about my room.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
She did not answer me.
‘Tea?’ I repeated, now holding up a piping cup of water to illustrate. She hesitated, peering at me with a questionable face, then shyly nodded her head yes. I handed her the cup and saucer and took my seat on the other end of the lumpy mattress.
She consumed the tea readily, hungrily, and I imagined what the liquid must have felt like steaming through her fragile body.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked after a few silent minutes had elapsed, causing her to jump at the sound of my German. Her shaking hands held the cup and saucer tight and ridged, ready to use them like weapons if needed.
‘Name?’ she questioned in a heavy Romanian accent.
‘Yes, name,’ I answered, sudden realizing she did not understand my language. I swallowed, pondered the situation, and firmly placed my fingers on my chest, my tiny gold ring, carefully pronouncing, ‘Peter.’
She studied my gesture for a moment, then offered a shy smile, and mimicking my introduction, she pointed to herself, softly whispering, ‘Anna.’
‘Anna,’ I repeated, pronouncing each syllable as if I was tasting the name, ‘Anna.’
These midnight rendezvous with Anna went on for a while. Soon, she became accustomed to my presence. We would meet in my quarters and speak in a broken language, conversing about life, love, and one another. Time found me saving bread from my dinners to give her and not working her as hard as the others in my sections. I kept us as exclusive as possible, but after a few weeks, I found myself to be the subject of teasing from my peers, often being questioned in humor how my ‘Jew girl’ was.
‘Just one day closer to death,’ I’d answer them, saving my reputation. Of course, they’d laugh at the same truth that made my heart sink, and they’d pass of my relationship with Anna as being a mere joke. It didn’t bother me much, however, for as long as Anna was in my life, the grayness in their taunting was always washed blue in her eyes.
In truth, Anna wasn’t my girl, nor was she my lover. I found out through our conversations that she has a husband in our camp, a forbidden luxury kept on the men’s side of the barbed-wire fence. He was in the second section that I oversaw, and although I could not arrange for them to see each other, I’d often catch her gazing at him when working by the fence, and I always caught myself wishing she were gazing at me instead.
The only time Anna and her husband were allowed to stand together was during the morning assemblies, when all the workers from both sides of the camp were brought together for inspection. I stood decorated in front of my two flocks, one of men and one of women, accompanied by my equals. My superior, a heartless, hard man, crusted in his years paused before my flock and gazed at my sheep.
‘You’ve done good work. Best sections in the camp,’ he observed. I tipped my hat in reply. ‘We have another train,’ he went on, ‘another shipment coming tomorrow. Fresh ones, and you will break them in. I’m going to need some room…’ He trailed off and studied both sections carefully. ‘What do you have the women doing?’
‘Sir they’re rebuilding the west barrack, Sir. Sir, standard work, Sir,’ I responded, interested in knowing where our conversation was headed.
‘Good,’ he stated, a gray smile on his face as he motioned for the twenty men to step forward. ‘Take these men…’ He trailed, holding me in suspense. ‘Take these men, and dispose of them.’
An icy dart ran through my body as he finished his sentence. My good luck charm weighted heavily against my chest as I looked at the men I was told to lead to death. In a second I saw Anna’s eyes, fixed on me, pleading and begging me to help her husband, he being in the nominated section. I turned back to my superior.
‘Sir, if I may…’ Steel dominated his returned stare into my face. ‘Sir, these men… they are good workers. They are valuable to our camp. If we lose them…’
‘Fine. They can stay…’ I released a breath of relief. ‘If you dispose of your women. It’s one section or the other. The choice is yours.’
He turned away, leaving me with a heavy burden on my ill-suited shoulders. I had a choice, but in truth, I didn’t. With a cumbersome heart and remorse, I ordered four of my comrades to assist me, and I slowly, almost painfully, marched my secondary flock to the left of the camp, never to return. I glanced at Anna as we walked past, and though she knew if she had spoken one word she would be shot, she screamed at me in her eyes to do something to save him. I swallowed hard, turned my eyes away from her stare, and continued on, the choice made. There was nothing I could do for him, but I wasn’t going to lose her again.
I packed that night, stuffing as much money and bread as I could afford into my oversized coat. I also took with me my pistol, a broken compass, and a map, and quickly touching my tiny luck charm, I left my cabin and stole away into the night.
The air was quiet, magnifying every sound ten times louder, making my midnight adventure more treacherous than imagined. My first stop was at the front gates, to relieve the night guard by trading shifts. He agreed, and with a tired yawn and a stiff stretch, disappeared into the soft glow of a distant cabin. Content no one was about, I secretly unlocked the front gate and headed for Anna. I entered the barrack, woke her, and took off for the main gate, Anna following close behind. Anna, still wiping sleep from her eyes, knew nothing of my recent plans and only recognized something was wrong when she saw we weren’t going to my quarters. With confusion in her eyes as I pushed her out the gate, we escaped into the darkness, using the night like a blanket to cover out tracks.
We ran swiftly, silently, like two deer flushed by the knowledge of a hunter’s fast approaching bullet. Hand in hand, hearts racing, legs pumping, breath rapid, quicker, quicker, towards our only chance for freedom.
Suddenly, like a slack rope pulled taut, Anna froze, still grasping my hand, snapping me back from our perfect escape. In the light of a dusky waxing moon, she looked at me, her hair wild and tears streaming down her face.
‘Anna,’ I hissed through gasps of air, ‘Anna, come on! We can’t afford to waste time!’ Truth was, we were only half a mile at the most from camp, and we still danced in a dangerous risk of my fellow soldiers discovering our disappearing.
‘No… Please… Help me!’ she begged.
‘Anna, I am helping you,’ I reasoned. ‘Look, if we stay here, you’ll die. The shore is only ten miles away from here. If we keep going we can reach it by daylight. We can take a boat over to Sweden. We’ll be safe there.’ I knew by the look on her face that she didn’t understand a word I was saying, but it didn’t matter. ‘And if anyone finds us, claim that you escaped, and I’m leading you back to camp. See, this compass I have is broken, so I have an excuse to walk in the wrong direction. See? It will work…’
She gazed at me with sad eyes and shook her head.
‘No,’ she responded, and with shaking hands lifted the barrel of my gun and placed it against her temple. ‘Please,’ she repeated, ‘help me.’
Tears welded up in my eyes as I finally understood what she desired. I thought of talking her our of it, telling her that she could learn to love me and all would be peaceful again. I kissed her then, just as I had kissed my Vera two years prior, and with trembling hands, picked up my gun.
‘Forgive me,’ I whispered into the wind. And in the shadow of death, the heat of the war, and the memories within, I aimed my gun at the only thing that mattered.
A flash of light.
A drumbeat.
Anna, falling against me.
And it was over.
No sooner than a second after I fired, spotlights in the camp blew up with light, the alarms sounded, and the violent yells of soldiers filled the n
ight air. I saw the chaos like a smeared painting, heard it like a blurred song, and stood frozen, gun smoke in my lungs and love at my feet. In a few moments, I was discovered by three soldiers, and they halted upon seeing Anna’s body. They looked at me, then looked back at where she lay. Then suddenly, they began to congratulate me, never once asking me to explain myself, never once thinking that Anna and I had been escaping together. They assumed I had chased an escapee and shot her down once in range. I didn’t argue, nor did I say anything at all, but quietly followed them back to camp, lagging a few steps behind their compliments, both my hands on my tiny gold ring. I pulled hard on my good luck charm, breaking the chain around my neck and looking at the tiny ring. I tossed it into the gray world behind me, not caring where it landed. I wouldn’t need it anymore. It’s gold had lost its beauty. No longer did it captivate my eyes.
Anna’s eyes are the only color in my life now.
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