A Gestapo's Rose

A Gestapo's Rose by Shanaya Stephens

 Darkness invaded the confined space of the garret as I made my way to the curtained window. Golden kisses graced my cheeks as sunlight entered through the tiny holes of the fabric. Simmering heat hung low in the summer air when another aircraft had hovered past the Polish skies.The grunting engines mercilessly crushed the sanguine pecks of my infamous feathered companion next-door;who for some reason had developed an unwelcome liking to Ms. Maron's giant oak tree. I retorted back to my boring business of packing the suitcase whose strap had come undone for what seemed like the hundredth time!

The faint wisps of sunlight lit the dark corners as another thought crossed my mind. I mustered up the strength to take a look at the sleeping beauty clade in sea-blue. Peace adored her  as she twisted and turned under the thin rag of a comforter. The cold thatch of the roof had been rough on her.Underneath her closed eyes, hope blossomed; which occasionally trickled down on my wacky shoulders with tales about her charming mansion in the faraway Polish town. Perhaps royalty couldn't waive off the sins of Jewish blood,else the tender rose I had secretly nestled might have adored some noble-man's crown. 

"Aaron, is that you?"

Her voice came weak and faltered while her wry smile tried to make up for the shabbiness of her weary-gone handsome manners.No sooner that she pointed out the mess than I realized that I had broken some of the cutlery that just wouldn't fit into the bag!

"Sorry, Ms.Rose. I didn't mean to wake you up."

I inched closer to where she had been laying down. Slicked to the waist, the leftovers that I brought her everyday weren't doing any favors to her feeble demeanor.Still she neither complained nor criticized my poor affordability. Beggars don't get to be choosers. She had told me that day and I, for a long time, couldn't comprehend what transition she had undergone to become a refugee in a poor Missionary's barn. Thunderous steps evaded my thoughts and my heart sank to the rock bottom.

"Glory to the Fuhrer! I have a summon for Aaron McCarthy."

The familiar,old Gestapo announced underneath the stairs. I glanced briefly at her before handing her the suitcase and the little money I had. The solitary letter encased the last of the words between us. Sweeping out silently from the tiny door, I went downstairs.

The man in uniform had overgrown his goatee and his belly had thickened an inch since the last time I saw him. 

"Aaron!What an asset you are, my child! To think you have killed that dirty,polish mistress!"

A ghost of a smile crept in as I walked hand in hand with the sweet  little secret, bidding farewell to the rose who had perished for those who had every intention to diminish it...petal by petal.The facade of a heartless Gestapo shall sustain to let the Rose blossom.