We don't have a name for the monstrous creatures that once inhabited the Earth, but I'll never forget the night I came face to face with one five years ago. I was fourteen at the time, still full of self righteous rebellion, if only for the sake of it. My whole family had gathered for dinner on Christmas Eve, and everyone brought their own special dishes to contribute to tomorrow's feast. I was particularly excited to try Grandpa's famous roast ham; a recipe he perfected over the years. Everyone was excited to see the predicted snowfall overnight, and wake to a pure white sheet gleaming against the morning sun. Until then, I had to sit through the insufferable political banter that my family would throw at one another. Grandpa would chime in, always needing to remind them of his heroism during the last war when he faced three of the aforementioned nameless monsters alone. I began to have my doubts, and I naturally called him on it.
"What did they look like?" I asked him. "You never describe them in detail."
"It's the solemn vow of every soldier that laid eyes on them to never make depictions of the creatures or speak their true name. They are meant to be forgotten, Chris. Lost to history!" Grandpa told me.
"But why don't you have any battle scars? I would imagine you had to be hit at least once if you fought three at one time!"
"They were not an overtly physical species. Their power came from the mind. In fact, through trickery and deceit, they nearly overtook the whole country had we not intervened and exterminated them," said Grandpa.
"How could they? Did they look much like us?" I asked. Grandpa didn't respond. "Better think of something quick, old man. Your silence is telling," I mocked. Dad stood up with a quiet fury, and dragged me out the door by my collar. He told me to sit on the porch and think about the things I said - that maybe the freezing cold would help me understand what Grandpa had to suffer through during the war. The wind blew harshly, blowing my hair in my face until I couldn't see anything, but a long, tangled, blonde mess. Even our flag that hung to the wall danced wildly to the gale. As I brushed my hair behind my neck, I was made distinctly aware of how cold it was. Without a jacket, I decided the best way to keep warm was to walk. It also gave me some satisfaction to think of my family's reaction should they find me gone. I made my way toward the metropolitan center of Horst-Wessel-Stadt, our little borough of Berlin. Along the way, I imagined Dad's reaction to finding me gone from the porch. The thought of him deciding when it would be time for me to come back in, but finding I made my own way - I'd have loved to see his face then. Would his head just explode when he realized I wasn't bound up by their time? I came to the peak before the road sank into the thick, ornamented plaza, then rose again into the neighboring town. For a moment, I wanted to stop and take in the sight which I may never appreciate as much again. It was dark, even for seven o'clock, but the Christmas decorations that hung over the trees, rooftops and streetlights created a virtual ocean of artificial stars. I wanted nothing more than to dive in and become one with the nighttime sea, preferably with a pretty girl in my arm. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt free.
Before I fully made my way into the center of town, I passed by the crumbled old building that rested in a small pocket of road behind thick trees. I was told many years ago that it had been condemned decades ago, but was abandoned decades before that even. No one ever told me what it used to be, though maybe no one else knows. Perhaps Grandpa remembers, but there would be no prying secrets from that tight-lipped veteran. I may have even passed by it without a second thought were it not for the dim light emanating from a distance. I had to get closer to ensure it wasn't my imagination. Of all the times we had driven by that place, I never saw anyone go in or out, as if it was preferable to forget. Part of me knew what I would find inside, but I could never have guessed how that night would have ended. I could see more clearly the light behind the muggy window when I was only a few feet away from the building. From this distance, I could also see a moving shadow which disturbed the light from filling the rest of the room. I was hesitant to investigate, but my curiosity overcame my perturbation, and I searched for a way inside the building. The door and windows had all been boarded up, but I was able to crawl inside through a patch of broken, decayed wood. A rancid smell permeated the air, as if the room had been coated in sweat and rotten flesh. The air felt damp, and it was a wonder that the roof above me hadn't collapsed ages ago.
I traced my hands along the wall until I came upon an open threshold. When I peeked around the corner, I could see the candlelight that first drew me to the building, and the silhouetted creature kneeling before it. It was far away on the opposite side of the room, but I could see the small, silver candelabra. One candle on the far right was raised higher than the rest, and three others were lit, leaving five empty slots on the left side. The creature whispered something incomprehensible to the darkness, and I wanted to listen more closely. I stepped carefully past the threshold, but stopped as a plank of the floorboard creaked under my foot. The creature suddenly fell silent and turned in my direction, still cloaked in shadow. I was paralyzed, certain that I had been caught, but it must not have seen me, as it turned back around to sit in silence. With a long, quiet breath, I knelt down to feel the floorboard that groaned so heavily. To my surprise, it was loose, and was connected to two other boards, opening up like a trap door. I carefully sank down into the crawlspace below, which was only as high as the width of my body, such that I could barely turn over from my back to my stomach. The creature didn't seem to notice when the boards sealed, and continued to whisper the indiscernible speech. I crawled through the moist, dirty ground on my elbows to get within earshot of the words it spoke.
I was unnerved when I could plainly hear them, as it was a harsh, alien tongue with elongated vowels and rolling consonants. Their meaning was lost on me, but the ritual mannerisms of the creature gave some inkling to me that it was verbal prostrations to some unknown, outer god. I turned over onto my back to peer through the cracks of the floorboards. The creature silenced once again, taking in a long breath. It stood up, and more features became slightly illuminated by the candelabra; scraggly, grey hair and bone-thin claws the most prominent among them. I shuddered when it called out to me in clear and natural German.
"I smell you, boy," it growled. I quickly rolled back onto my stomach, fearing it might see the whites of my eyes through the floorboards. "Come on out" it continued. My heart raced, adrenaline fueling every nerve in my body. I focused on my breath, inhaling and exhaling as deeply and slowly as possible, barely letting any air pass through my nose. The creature paced back and forth through the room, letting its boots fall heavily on the boards. I could feel the vibration of every step through my back. When I heard the stomping come to a halt directly above me, I held my breath and squeezed my eyes tightly. I waited for the thing to rip open the floorboards and pull me away for a meal or burnt offering to its god. "We have all night," it said as it slumped back to its altar. During its meditation, I inched my way over to the wall to peer outside through the planks. Snow was beginning to fall, and the tiny flakes were clinging desperately to the blades of grass before my eyes. This was the moment my family had been waiting for, and I wondered if Dad had already noticed I was gone. "What's your name, boy?" the creature said, in a more calm demeanor. I said nothing, as I knew what this creature was. Grandpa had warned me that they are monsters that manipulate the mind, and I would not be fooled into giving away my hiding place. "I am Matti," it said. "Do you know what these candles mean to me?" It paused as if waiting for my response. Still, I remained silent and allowed it to tell its story.
"My people pay remembrance to a millennia-old miracle. A light must always persist in the temple, you see, but the warriors of Hellas extinguished the flame and replaced our relics with idols of their own gods. These barbarians called themselves civilized! My ancestors took arms and broke down the bronze-clad army, wielding the mighty hammer, Maqqeba. There, they cleansed the temple and went to task of lighting the candelabra. More oil would have to be made, and that which remained could only burn for one night. It continued to burn for eight days. My people are one of hope and determination. Against all opposition, our candle stays lit. Even after your countrymen marched in our homes and exterminated us like vermin, here I remain with the light that drew you here. And now you hide underneath the floorboards just as I once did some seventy years ago. Indeed, I meant only to frighten you, that you may experience the heavy boots over your back the same as I. But this light draws those who are willing to see. You would not come if the light could not burn within you." Matti bowed his head and sighed, climbing to his feet. Just before he crossed the threshold to leave me alone, I poked my head out from the trap door.
"Chris," I said. I caught my first true glimpse of Matti as he turned around and looked down to face me. "That's my name: Christian Stemmer." Strangely, I was unafraid of the dark eyes that met mine, nor of the wrinkled face covered in unkempt grey hair. I only saw an old man, shaped into a monster by the rest of the world.
"Bless you, Christian, for bearing this torch. The light is not carried by oil or parentage; it is carried in the heart," said Matti. His words never left me since that night. They rang in my head as I ran back home, even as I stood once more at the peak of the road. I gazed over the town, still sparkling with Christmas lights, this time accentuated by the first layering of snow. Presently, the wind was steady, and I could clearly see the swastika on our country's flag to mark that I was home once again. I never told my family about Matti, and I don't think I ever will. It even took time for me to fully understand, but I hope another is out there willing to carry the memory. I think Matti is hopeful too. When I came back to Horst-Wessel-Stadt just the other day for New Year's celebrations, I passed by the old, lonely temple and saw nine candles burning brightly in the window. Lights that burn for generations - a miracle indeed.
Written by RCainTales
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