Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27132971-20181113165025/@comment-36393004-20181113180941

Ok, I just spent a good amount of time completely restructuring this story for you. First, the entire first paragraph is unnessary to the story. I would suggest getting rid of it and started out with the happy drinking story time. It works a lot better and what all of your names are does not have anything to do with it. It's just needless filler.

Second, this story is being told by you and not your grandfather. You need to write it that way. The whole thing can't be one long quote and you did not even separate your quotes. I rewrote this from your perspective and added quotes at key points from your grandfather. This sounds better and reads a lot better.

Third, I corrected all of the grammar issues to include any contraction that is inappropriate. You use "would've" and "I'd" a lot and that's just bad writing. Plus, unless completely necessary, don't use elipses ( ... ). It's a bad practice. I know you're trying to build suspsense with it but your story should do that, not three little dots.

Revised Story:

Hi. I am a 50-year-old whose name is John. John Lumber to be precise. Of course, you may be thinking, "Lumber? That's the silliest last name I've ever heard of!" Okay, maybe so, but if you really think about your last name, you'd probably realize that mine probably is not any sillier than yours. My 82-year-old father, of course, shares the same last name. His first name is Dennis.

My grandfather was 90 years old before he passed away in 2013. His last name was the same as mine and my father's. His first name was Roy. Of course, I've always been close to my grandfather than my dad, even after his (my grandpa's) passing. However, there was one thing my father and my grandfather had in common. I remember a story my grandpa told me back when I was 17.

The year was 1985. I wasn't far off from the time I'd go to college and get my degree in the art of literature. It was Christmas Eve, I think, and we were all partying. My father had always been a drunk, and at the time, seeing how I was quite a fool back in the day, I helped myself to a couple of beers as well. My grandpa Roy, however, would rather remain sober. I always loved that about him. I remember my good friend Anthony "Tony" Guz was there too. Of course, it's funny how we became friends, seeing how I'm four years older than he is, but that's another story for another time.

Since Tony was only 14, he technically wasn't allowed to drink. His father, on the other hand, was almost as much a drunk as my own. I did manage to sneak Tony a couple of bottles though. Of course, it wouldn't have really mattered considering Tony's mother was in the other room, and Tony's dad just didn't care. Because all of us, well, almost all of us, were feeling quite,  I'll just say "proud" after drinking. We decided to sit around in the living room and tell some stories about the things that had happened to us. Of course, we swore a bit, but I'd rather just leave any cuss words out so I can just forget about how juvenile I was back in the day.

I decided I would start us off. I told the story about how I had worked my way up through school, from preschool to pre-college, and how I had done it. Of course, it hadn't been an easy road, but again, that's another story for another time. After I finished speaking, my grandfather decided to tell us a story about his time in the war. Of course, by that, he meant World War II. Both my grandfather and my father, along with many of my uncles, had fought in that war. Tony's dad had too and, of course, though they all had stories to tell, my grandpa's were by far the most interesting of all. But tonight, he had a story that would forever change my view of the war.

"It was a cold winter night," began Grandpa Roy.

He continued to tell how he and Dennis were in the same troop at the time, Troop 312. They had been sent out to Poland to raid a Nazi camp located in the area. They were trudging through snow so high, he swore it was touching the bottoms of their kneecaps. It was also dark that they could barely see their hands in front of their faces.

He suggested to his son that we stop and set up camp for the night but Dennis was determined to take out that Nazi scum. He was insistent that we keep on going and seeing as how Granpa Roy couldn't really get him to change his mind, he finally, though somewhat reluctantly, agreed to continue on.

Just two hours later, Grandpa was exhausted. It had been a long, trying night, and the camp still wasn't anywhere to be seen. He was beginning to question if it was even in the area. This time, he begged to Dennis that we stop and suggested they could get a little sleep. But Dennis was determined and there didn't seem to be any shaking him. So, Grandpa finally plopped down in the snow and told his son to continue on his own, that he would catch up soon enough.

Just a minute later, Dennis stopped in his tracks not far from where Grandpa was currently lying down. So, the old man managed to drag himself over to Dennis and asked him why he was just standing there. He pointed in the direction he was looking towards. When Granpa looked in that direction, he managed to see a faint glow in the distance he hadn't seen before. When he walked closer to it, he could finally make out the shape of a huge factory-like building, with chimneys that must have been as tall as the Eiffel Tower.

From the chimneys, huge, billowing clouds of smoke were rolling out into the starry sky above. But the oddest thing about it was that I could see small hints of red and green and other faint colors in the smoke clouds. Grandpa looked towards his son. Dennis must have been thinking the same thing as his father. This was the Nazi camp they had been set out to look for and from the way it looked, it seemed to be a concentration camp.

They started running toward the building, rifles in hand, but their running turned into a crawl when a bullet rang out. It whizzed right past Grandpa's head, almost killing him right on the spot. It turned out that there were guards protecting the place. They carefully crept towards the camp, though with the snow stinging their eyes and trying its best to shove itself into their throats and suffocate them, it was a long journey.

Finally, they managed to reach the outer walls of the camp, which were being guarded as if they were about to be stolen from right under Hitler's pointed nose. That's when Grandpa and Dennis exchanged glances, knowing that the real challenge had just begun. The two of them began working their way into the camp, using their bare hands like shovels. Of course, that's not to say it wasn't painful, but in the end, they prevailed. They got past snow, grass, dirt, rock, and the guards' watchful eyes.

Once they were on the other side of the fence, they pushed themselves against the walls as much as possible, grateful they were dressed in camouflage. That was when it happened. I remember my grandpa put as much emphasis into the word "it" as he could, to the point where even Dad was hooked on the story, though he apparently was one of the stars. After a short but dramatic pause, Grandpa Roy continued with the story.

"We were almost inside of the camp, where those poor Jews were being held captive, not knowing what horrible fates awaited them," he said.

And then one of the searchlights began sweeping across the ground in their direction. The two of them were both as horrified as could be, quietly trembling, holding their breaths. They wouldn't be surprised if they were beginning to pray to the Lord that they wouldn't get found. The searchlight was almost upon them when God finally gave them a miracle. Just before they were directly under the light, another bullet rang out. They didn't know who it was, or where it'd come from, but what they did know was that it got the searchlight to stop sweeping.

The Nazi who'd been waving the searchlight around, looking for any escapees or Allies, had been momentarily distracted by the gunshot. It was all that we needed. They had just enough time to run past the searchlight while nobody was looking, crept towards the iron doors of that building, and find their way inside. And that's just what they did. Once they were in the building, the two of them began looking around for a way to free the Jews without the Nazis figuring out anyone had been there.

So they looked around, trying to find the Jews. And as the two of them tip-toed down the corridors of that long, ominous hallway, what they saw next was probably the most horrifying sight either of them had ever laid eyes upon.

By this time, I was so hooked onto the story, that when Grandpa Roy said that he was ready to retire to his bed and started walking down the hall to his bedroom, a single word found its way out of my throat.

"WAIT!!" I shouted.

Grandpa Roy looked back, "Yes?" he asked.

"Y-...you can't just go to bed! Not now! I need to know what happens next! I might explode if I don't find out!" I blurted out excitedly.

Grandpa Roy smiled warmly at me for a moment before hobbling over back to his recliner and finishing his tale of war, "So there I was, Dennis at my side."

They were in the hallway, looking for Jews. Then Grandpa looked through the only open door and all he could say was, "Found them."

When Dennis looked in, Grandpa swore he could hear his son choking back a scream of pure, unbridled horror. In that room were an extensive collection of Jews, struggling to stay alive and the things those Nazis had done to them, good Lord. Grandpa said he would never forget what terrible, terrible things had been done to those poor people. Some of them were missing limbs, had had their eyeballs gouged out, their ears ripped right off of their skulls, and they were the lucky ones. Some of them were mutilated so badly, that you couldn't even recognize them as actual living creatures, let alone human beings.

I could see Grandpa Roy was now choking back the urge to cry. Then he went on with the story. He said their skin was turned inside out, their muscles and veins completely exposed. Blood was everywhere on that cold stone floor, to the point some of them were swimming in it. They had also been partially melted so that their skin and bones stuck together, and if you tried to take off their clothes, you would end up killing them in a heartbeat, not to say that any of their hearts were actually beating.

Most of the mutants were already long gone, their tongues hanging out of their blackened lips. Grandpa looked at Dennis once more. When he saw the look on his son's face, it was one of pure sadness. Grandpa must have had the same look.

Grandpa got serious, "I mean, these were HUMAN BEINGS, for God's sake!"

At this point, I asked my grandfather if he could pause for a moment. Then I went to the bathroom so I could puke out some of the beer that had been hanging on to my stomach. His gory descriptions of what had happened had already sickened me to the point where I just couldn't hold on to it anymore. After flushing my reaction to Grandpa Roy's story down the toilet, I walked back to the living room so Grandpa could continue and that he did.

"So after Dennis and I looked in there for a moment, those...mutants...began looking at us. Or at least, they tried to. It was hard to tell, what with their bodies being completely destroyed and all. And then...then...," I could hear the sadness in my grandpa's voice.

I suddenly realized that this wasn't one of his normal tall tales. This must have been something that actually happened. Of course, I tried to push the notion out of my head, but it just stuck there. My grandpa went on to say that after the people looked long and hard at himself and Dennis was when they began dragging themselves towards them. Some of the bodies did a slow walk and others did more of a crawl. They trampled over the bodies of the ones that were already dead. Some of them trampled over living ones, killing them. Then one got up to them. They asked him or her, whichever it might be if it needed help. It replied with a phlegmy screech and then it attacked. It wounded Grandpa by slashing open a wound on his arm.

He fell to his knees, clutching the wound. Then he looked up towards that mutant Jew and realized it wasn't a Jew anymore. It wasn't even human. It was more like some kind of living zombie. Of course, Dennis came to his aid, quickly wrapping up the cut with a piece of cloth he carried around with him for just such an emergency. Then he began shouting at the mutant zombies, screaming at them to go back into their hellhole. A few more came up, but seeing as how they were so weakened already, he just had to shove them back into that prison of theirs.

Then they quickly shut the door and got out of that hell. Of course, the loud "CLANG," resonating from the iron door got them spotted by a few Nazi soldiers but they were a simple matter of shooting at them and scaring them away. After returning to base, they soon told the rest of the men the horrible things they had seen but they wouldn't believe us.

"Do you?" Grandpa said, seriously.

At this point, I was in so much a daze, I just nodded my head. I looked towards Dad, expecting a reaction from him. Sure enough, he had his face in his hands, and could be heard quietly sobbing. He soon explained he had been trying to forget the whole incident, and that he had wanted to forget the war altogether. That's why he was a drunk. So he could forget it, all of it. So as time went on, I went to college (though I never got a degree), got a job, and I got married to the most beautiful lady on Earth.

That leads me up to now, to this very day. I'm still happily married, have two children, and expecting a third. But I could never get that story out of my head. Was it true? Was it just made up? I mean, I have always known the Nazis were evil. Pure, sadistic, evil but that story. Just that story, it made me see the Nazis in a whole new light. I mean, they weren't just evil. They were like demons on Earth.

There is just two more questions that hang around me. First off, the description of those Jews. They couldn't have been alive. They were dead, and I knew it. Apparently, the Nazis were ahead of their time. They had invented computer chips or a virus of some kind that turned those corpses into undead creatures. Second of all, what about Hitler? He supposedly committed suicide, but he was never seen again. It makes you wonder, did the Nazis really disappear forever? Or are they planning something else?