All's Fair in Warfare
Thunder clapped angrily in the distance, ripping the night with momentary light. Rain beat down hard on the black buildings of Berlin. God was grieving for the lifeless body lying on the floor of the Wust family home.
Emily Wust awoke with a start. She sat bolt upright on her bed. Was that me? She brought a trembling hand to her throbbing temple. Shuddering she hugged herself and rocked the nightmare away. She pulled the covers aside and inserted her feet into her comfortable slippers.
Emily was not a women easily startled or shocked; however, this recurring dream was beginning to have an effect on her. And if there was anything Emily could not abide by, it was the idea of being afraid of sleep; or anything for that matter.
She stood, acquired her night robe, slipped it on; then, crossed her grand bedroom. She stopped at a large, arching, eighteenth century window that had one of the most breathtaking views of the night sky. A million points of light shone through the moon-less night. Emily unlatched the lock of the window and stepped through onto a quaint balcony.
She stood silhouetted against the twinkling darkness; she was a picture of perfection. Her snow white skin accented by soft curves, raven dark hair and a beautifully built face, with full lips and eyes clouded in thought. Those emerald windows into her heart and soul stared unseeingly at the night sky. She breathed deeply, wrapped her robe tightly around herself, and expelled a puff of white smoke into the cold night. She stared unblinkingly at the peaceful countenance of the night. She could not believe that a moment before, in her dreams, it had been an angrily vengeful sky that wept unceasingly. She grabbed hold of the balcony's edge and looked down onto a sleeping city.
I stand here living in the best of luxuries worrying about a silly nightmare when some of my best friends are suffering. What a selfish creature I am. She thought.
She released the balcony and turned away from her nightmare. She entered the sanctuary of her bedroom, and locked the world and its problems in the darkness of the night. She leaned softly against the locked window and took in, for the first time appreciating, the true beauty of her room. She looked at the beautiful contrast of the soft hues of red against the pale white, and the various paintings of her favorite artists, be it old or contemporary, and the solidly built and gracefully decorated oak bed accompanied by its counterparts, and the rich, lusciously soft carpet that her feet were sunk into. Then, her eyes beheld the violin, it was the personification of master craftsmanship, and she could feel the music of the masters' flow through her blood. She smiled and swept her gaze across the room once more and her eyes landed on her desk. It was littered with unfinished compositions, unwritten correspondences, three-inch-thick books, and half-written letters to an estranged lover.
She recalled how she had loved that man who had once been wonderful, sweet, and the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She recalled the night she had first given herself to him. How he had caressed her body with his soft hands, and how he had gently and lovingly taken her virginity, and how he had taken her to the top of the world over and over and over again. And she also remembered how he had systematically changed into a beastly monster with no conscience or remorse for his actions. She remembered how he had become a brainless killing machine for the demented Hitler.
She shook her head, not wanting to disturb her already vexed night.
I'll take care of that tomorrow. - She promised herself-Yes, tomorrow when my head is clear. But right now I'm going down to the kitchen to make myself some hot cocoa; maybe then I can get back to sleep.
She released her hold on the window, and glided out of her room with the grace of a queen.
Colonel Günther Helsig stood stiffly at the position of attention. He waited nervously as General Bernd Wust inspected his battalion.
