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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Foreign · #1672261
Piotr is a polish orphan in a research institute in German Warsaw during World War II.
I wrote this a while ago, when my procrastination wasn't so bad, and in my opinion the last paragraph drags a little and isn't very well written. :-/ But that's up to the reader to decide I suppose. {/font]

Irony Is Bitter:

Piotr’s feet pounded against the grassy, uneven terrain of the Wilhelm Institute for Orphans and Research on the outskirts of Warsaw. His frail little legs and thin figure glided across the garden of the institute like an antelope fleeing a predator. Low snarls and growls emitted from the area behind him but he dared not glance around for fear that a pesky rock may trip him up and expose him to the terror of the pursuing beasts. Above him the sun shone intensely, illuminating the court yard-like garden. While it increased his vision, it also unleashed its hot wrath down upon Piotr, making his raggedy, old and grossly too small clothes cling to his body.

The soldiers snickered and laughed from their wooden located near the entrance of the main building from the courtyard. They wore the normal German uniform with lightning bolts and/or skulls adorning their upper chest pockets or cap. Nearly all of the soldiers wore a metallic helmet while only one soldier wore a cap. These weren’t the normal soldiers and were, supposedly, friends of the one with the cap. The insignias obviously signified something but as to what that was; Piotr hadn’t given much thought to.

The Alsatians behind Piotr were large dogs with perky ears, a long snout, a blanket of dark black fur across their backs and a nice golden brown covered their breast, their undersides and the remainder of their bodies. And these ferocious dogs were hunting Piotr.

The dogs nipped at Piotr’s heels. He had been given a five minute head start but the dogs were quick to make up the distance. Piotr was luck to have been given the older Alsatians. He would be able to outrun them for a little longer which meant he might only get a couple of wounds, but nothing serious. “Run Polack!” Jeered one of the soldiers, much to the amusement of his companions. Piotr didn’t find it amusing in the slightest. He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and pushed himself to move faster. For exercising the dogs he would get a soldier’s meal and would be kept out of the Institute’s Research section for another month.

Just as Piotr was feeling like he was about to wear down the dogs so much he wouldn’t get any wounds or scars, fate played a cruel trick on him and a rock tripped him up. And it was just one of those rocks he had been watching out for before. Irony was a bitter taste to swallow.

Flashbacks Of A Broken Child:

A loud bang arrived at Piotr’s ears. The sounds of tires and engines came from outside, closely followed by footsteps approaching the front door of Piotr’s home. The upstairs rumbled and shook as another bang rang down the stairs. Piotr stared at the door in terror, the footsteps outside drawing nearer before stopping. The faint sound of conversation below the noise of the vehicles was just barely audible to Piotr. His eyes were focused on the grain of the oak door that separated him from the soldiers on the other side.

A shrill scream shook Piotr to the very core of his being. The scream was shortly followed by a naked woman rushing down the stairs. Her bosoms down to her stomach were coated in a layer of fresh, crimson red blood. This sight dragged Piotr’s eyes over to the woman. Even in this warzone and in this moment of terror, Piotr couldn’t help but stifle a blush as his eyes drifted over her bare skin tainted with the red juices of his father.

The woman frantically looked around for a door, before spotting the main door and trying to escape into the streets but was immediately halted in her endeavour by the soldiers when she opened the door. They immediately turned and raised their weapons. The sounds of gunfire and desperate cries for help rang out in Piotr’s ears as he shot up from a bed in the nurse’s ward.

A thick layer of sweat covered his forehead and Piotr wiped it with the casual swipe of his hand. The was dimly lit by only a small candle burning in the corner of the room on a four-legged, square wooden table.


A small, amber cat appeared on the window ledge staring at Piotr and purring almost silently as its dark blue eyes seemingly pierced Piotr’s skull. The cat gave Piotr a sleek smile seconds before pouncing onto his bed and curling up in his lap. “Hello Misses Thompson, have you been rooting around in the German’s bins again? I can smell it.” Piotr said in Polish, as if scolding a small child after doing something wrong. “There must be millions of mice around this building. Especially near the Orphan’s sector. You can’t be a cat if you can’t catch a mouse. I’m sure they’re part of your diet as well. I mean a cat how doesn’t eat mice isn’t a cat. Besides I’m sure the Germans eat so much nasty food to make their personalities so mean.” Piotr said childishly, trailing from the point ever so slightly.

Mrs. Thompson replied by nuzzling one of Piotr’s hands. The small boy picked up on the obvious message that was relayed to him, scratching near the base of her ear and under her chin after that. He also scratched the top of her breast in combination with the other spots. Piotr only took quick glances at his arms. They were covered in gauze. At spots on the gauze there were red specks where the blood had started to seep through the bandage.

Mrs. Thompson was originally an English woman in Piotr’s neighbourhood before the soldiers had arrived. The female cat, that had become Piotr’s only friend in this little hole of hell, reminded him of how Mrs. Thompson looked and acted when she was out at the shops in Warsaw or out with friends. She had always been seeking affection and attention, always wanting to be told she looked nice and that her old clothes still looked new. She was a nice person but a vain one at that.

The amber fur covered creature on Piotr’s lap purred with pleasure beneath his hand but quickly scuttled under the bed as the main nurse of the complex strolled into the ward. She held herself proudly and emitted a sort of dominant aura which clearly showed that she was in charge even if it was just of the nurses. She was a leader by nature and even an idiot would pick up on that. Her name was Miss Gelb and she hurriedly checked Piotr’s charts before inspecting his bandages. She gave him a reassuring yet nervous smile. She was German by birth and Piotr was Polish. Recently the soldiers and the other nurses had become concerned about her attention to Piotr. He had been accepting the dogs over the research for the last couple of months. She wasn’t doing it out of kindness and Piotr knew that. She was just doing what was best for the patient. She cared about her work, even if she didn’t care much for the patient him or herself.

Nurse Ward Of Doom:

Piotr watched the nurse as she did all her health checks and safety measures. "Lie down." She commanded with an authoritative tone that matched that strange feeling that told you she was used to being obeyed. Piotr lay down, keeping his arms at his sides and staring up at the ceiling dotted with little lights. Ms. Gelb made several little noises like "hmmmm" and "ahhhh" as she slowly undid the bandages to renew them. "I'm sorry but your wounds are mending quite quickly. You may have only another day to stay here." She said, in German, with an almost sympathetic tone. All the staff here knew of the horrid orphanage and they all knew that the nurse's ward was the closest thing to a holiday for them.

Piotr smiled up at her nervously. She didn't smile back but continued to apply the new bandage. The noise of boots against tiles echoed around the almost deserted room. Ms. Gelb's head swivelled to see who was interrupting her session with a patient. Her eyes grew wide and she suddenly stood at attention, giving the necessary greetings to the soldiers that came into view after a few moments passed."We have come for the boy." One said. He had a skull on his cap and his body language implied that he was superior to the nurse, that he was the dominant one. She shook her head.
"You can't, he's not ready. He still needs a day or two."
"He's wanted for research."
"No! He ran for the dogs! You've always said that if a child runs for the dogs he is allowed a month from the research sector! This boy has ran several times to escape the research sector. That goes to show you how much fear is in him."
The soldier only chuckled. "All the times he ran has made him a perfect specimen for der Doktor. He has shown a determination and that is why we need him." A smirk played on the soldier's lips. He was enjoying the looks on the nurse's face. "Y-you can't." Ms. Gelb said desperately. "Do you want to be charged with treason for protecting a useless Polack? I would hold your tongue if I were you." The soldier said as more of a command than a question or statement.

Ms. Gelb only bowed her head and tried not to look as the soldier walked over to the side of Piotr's bed and pulled him out. "No I have a month. I have a month!" Piotr said in Polish as he was grabbed by the arm and forced out of the bed.The soldier slapped him across the face with the palm of his hand. "How dare you speak Polish!" Piotr could only cry and squirm as the soldier dragged him out of the ward and along several hallways. Tears littered the floor, leaving a trail of Piotr's journey.

Piotr was heading towards death, he knew it. He was the oldest one in the orphanage because all the others older than him chose the research sector, thinking it would only involve taking a few pills or running a few tests...They were wrong. What the Doctor was really doing killed them all and Piotr knew he wouldn't be coming back.
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