GoT Writings

B&W final cut prompt 5. w.c. 514

5. He found the journal on the train. [w.c. 514]

Finding a seat was not as easy as one would think. It was wartime and seats were at a premium. Taking his time, he finds a spot between a covey of lovelies. It was not a seat so much as a spot to lean. The girls faced each other and spoke in hushed whispers until Roger excused himself and carefully stepped over their meager belongs carefully set between the seats.

From the sound of them they were German, from the look of them, they were Jewish. From the way they acted, they were scared. From his limited understanding and the few words he caught, these girls were on the run. He helped. When the conductor started up the aisle, he would touch the shoulder of the girl closest. A signal, and the whispers stopped. A nod and they could start again. And so it went until they reached the border.

He understood enough from the other passengers on the train to know that most were going to Paris. He did not think most of the people would make it. When they were all being herded off, Roger ducked down and out of awareness. He found a little cubby to stay out of the way as hoards of people, including the schoolgirls were being ordered off board. He zigged and zagged until he found an open sleeping car. And a passenger who was not getting off. Roger hid. The space was strewn with books and luggage. This person could sleep through anything.

He stayed hidden for several hours. When it looked somewhat safe, pulling out, he crossed the small room to see if the person was awake yet. And the person was not breathing. Luck was with him this trip. It’s a good thing she was hefty. He found a dress that would fit, a hat that covered a multitude of sins, and gloves to cover his obviously masculine hands. He needed to act quickly. He threw random possessions that might deem necessary later into a satchel. Each item was scanned and bagged or scanned and tossed aside. The next item was a book. Mein Tagebuch. A journal? He intended to throw it aside, but it went in the satchel instead. Two more times he tried to toss it aside to make room for something vital and each time something more precious was set aside to leave room for the journal.

Why he needed the journal was not clear. He would obey the powers that be and retain it until it was no longer necessary. The automatic steady relaxing and tensioning of his legs told him the train was in motion again. A quick look outside to prove they were moving in the right direction, and he is able to relax.

It was dark now and they were a good distance from the town. “Forgive me, ma’am, and the woman’s body whose identity he stole ….borrowed… was shoved out a window. Geez, she was heavy. But he did not regret … or even think about her sacrifice … again until the train steamed into Paris.



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