They Come from Below

“Shhh, you can’t say anything, or the monsters will get you,” his sister Emily whispered in the pitch-black room. Joseph nodded, scared if he moved his head too much, it would hear his hair rustling, but he would be quiet. He always was.

They had left their farm the day before her fourteenth birthday; Joseph remembered because that meant it was six months to his sixth birthday, and he thought it was rather mean of his parents to leave without celebrating. Emily had been so excited, but their father spent their last moments on their farm trimming his beard instead of celebrating.

He missed his bed, and the farm. There had been an old castle downriver from their farm. Emily would lead him down so they could look at it when they weren’t supposed to. Joseph loved it. Seeing the red brick castle brought his toys to life, and Joseph imagined he was one of his little wooden knights running along those walls and fighting a dragon. Emily said there were lots of dragons around now.

Joseph didn’t quite understand what was going on. Always going from place to place was tiring, and sleeping on the floor was uncomfortable. Emily always told him not to make a sound, so Joseph would just fall asleep when they went from place to place. He didn’t understand why his parents and Emily couldn’t just sleep. It was easy! Instead, they always seemed like they were going to get in trouble.

Even if the dragons were around, there were still plenty of knights. Just that day, Joseph had seen them through the little window, which was the only way they got any light in. Dad wasn’t too happy about that when he saw him. He thought they were spectacular, though, Marching in lines with their big silver horses and black suits of armor. How could there be monsters with so many knights around?

There was a knock from below the floorboards that were his bed.

Joseph closed his eyes. He’d be quiet. He always was. He was a good boy. Next to him, Emily held her hand over her mouth. Their parents were in the small room across the attic. He hoped they were asleep. Being quiet was easy when you were asleep.

Then he heard the voices.

“Wo sind die Juden? Schnell!”

“Kein Juden! Nein!” The man below said in his broken, heavy accent. Joseph liked him.

More shouting followed.

There came a crack of thunder followed by what sounded like a bookcase falling. Joseph opened his eyes. These must be the monsters, or worse, maybe that thunder was a dragon. He prayed with all his might that the knights would come.

A scream pierced the attic.

At first, Joseph thought it was Emily. But no – he saw her lying there dead still with her hand over her mouth.

It must have been Mommy then. Dad really wouldn’t like that.

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A/N:

This was a tough piece to write-sorry for the preweekend downer everyone. Still, these types of stories, those that peer into the lived life of people often reduced to statistics I find to be the most important. If you're looking for something more uplifting, you may want to look elsewhere, but this one below is a bit more uplifting:

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