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Icarus


Hey everyone: This is a short story that will be 2 or 3 chapters long, inspired by a German in my life. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading...



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Icarus



The ground felt wet underneath her feet as she walked home that day, down the path she had walked a million times before. It was so familiar to her that she hardly paid attention to the puddles of mud that she stepped in, or the fact that small branches strewn about could cause her to trip. Her thoughts were in the sky as she looked up at the tops of the October trees, somewhere far away from what felt like a God forsaken place to her now.

It wasn’t only that which had made her feel this way: it was the fact she had been away from home for so long. Some things felt strange to her now, things that had once seemed so routine or common to her were now odd. She wondered if it was the place that had changed or if it was her, or perhaps both?

She had been away in Edinburgh, staying with relatives while she studied at the university there. That was just before the war broke out and that sort of left her stuck where she was, safe and sound while the south of England got hammered by the Germans. They called it blitzkrieg, a word that meant nothing to her until she saw the pictures in the newspapers of the aftermath of the bombings in London; then it became synonymous with death. Things were alright back home on the farm until her brother decided to enlist a year into the war and her studies; now she was she had to go back in order to help her mother and younger brother in what ways she could. Everything else had to be thrown aside in the effort to not just run the farm, but to help win the war.

War was a word that meant a great deal to Victoria, even though she was just 20 years old. Her father had fought in the Great War of 1914-1918, having died of a lung related problems in 1924 he had sustained during the war. Although he came home a whole man, he had apparently not been the same ever since the War and health problems plagued him until his death 5 years after war’s end. Although she had barely turned 6 the year that he died she remembered a man that was strong and who loved to sing, and she held on to those memories of a father she felt had been killed during the Great War.

Her mother was strong and managed the farm on her own, her brother helping her run things for many years, until the children were old enough to work. They had a lot of land and were very comfortable in life, but what they had they earned every cent from hard work. While most struggled in the 1930s during what was called the Depression years, she and her family lived a decent life. The result of that was her being able to go to university, something that no girl in her family had ever done before, which something which she felt very proud of.

Victoria hardly noticed that she had entered the woods by this point, having walked through this part a million times on her way home from school or being in town. No cars came down this path, and few people, unless they were walking to get to her place . She walked until she heard a sound that was not familiar to her, but when she stopped so did the sound. She did not pause long, but continued to walk, in no way feeling put off by it. When she heard it again, however, this time louder, she came to a full stop. The sun was cut off from the trees above, making the light around her dull and faded. Stray rays of sun shone through the trees but it suddenly felt darker than normal to her. Her thoughts came to a full stop, feeling for the first time the cold that had set in as she walked home. For some reason she looked up, seeing as some of the October leaves gently fell to the ground around her, making the ground look like a canvas of burnt colours.

She turned abruptly when she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, yet could see nothing when she looked. She gave herself a few moments to conclude that it was most likely an animal, and then started walking in the direction of home once again. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she concluded, or just being overactive. The crisp Autumn days could sometimes do that to you.


Bitte…help me.”


She stopped cold when she heard the voice in the woods. She did not know where it was coming from but it was close by, not far from where she now stood. Then there was nothing, not even the sound of footsteps that she had heard earlier.

Hello?” she asked, looking around and straining her eyes to try to see who was calling to her. Was she going crazy?

Hello”, the voice said back, this time more strained. It was a man’s voice, that’s all she could tell.

A second or two later the rustle of leaves beneath feet came nearer to her and the figure immerged from the trees to reveal itself: a young man wearing a torn uniform, blood on his hands, but mostly on his upper arm. At first she was frightened by his appearance, but then the instinct to help kicked in and she immediately went to him.

The man leaned against the tree, his one hand cupping his upper arm, trying to stop the blood. She put her hand on his arm and offered to help.

“What can I do?”

He did not answer, but winced in pain as she looked at the wound in his arm.

Bitte help me”, he said again, and this time Victoria could hear the thick accent with which the words were spoken. For some reason, however, it didn’t dawn on her at that moment who he was or what he was doing there, only that she needed to help.

“What can I do?” she repeated apprehensively, looking up into the face of the man who was asking for her help. He took in a few deep breaths and composed himself before saying:

“Help me to find my bag”.

“Your bag? Where is it?”

“It dropped when I fell.”

“You fell? Where?”

He looked up into the trees and then pointed in a direction. She immediately went where he asked her to go, looking on the ground for a bag. The sun was obscured so it was more difficult to see, but she scoured as best she could.

“Up there”, he called out to her. She saw that he was pointing in the trees above her, and when she looked up she saw a bag dangling from the branches of the tall trees. She looked for the best route to climb the tree to get it, but decided that she would have to climb the one next to it in order to reach the branch in question. She removed her shoes and began the climb, using her skills that had been taught to her by her two brothers, having climbed trees hundreds of times before.

When she was able to secure the bag in question, she made her way down carefully for she was rather high up, and dropped on to the leaves beneath her feet. As she approached the man, he was still leaning against the tree, breathing heavily.

“Danke, danke”, he repeated over and over again, taking the bag from her and bursting it open. She watched as he emptied most of the contents on the ground: a few small boxes, what looked like a pair of socks, and then finally another box that he seemed relieved to hold. Quickly he opened it and took out a tube, passing it to her. She saw that inside was a needle.

“I can’t do it…can you?”

She understood that he was asking her to inject the needle into his arm. She stood there for a moment just holding the needle, then looking back at him. He was trying to keep his eyes open, quite obviously exhausted, probably from the blood he was losing.

“Are you afraid of needles too?” he asked when he must have realized she was hesitating.

“No, it’s just that I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I”.

It wasn’t until she injected the needle into the side of his arm that she saw the swastika on the torn sleeve of his uniform: this man was German. She froze for a few moments, but he did not notice because he had his eyes closed. She took those moments to study his face, his dark features and dark hair, not like what she had read about them at all. She expected if she ever saw one to find blonde hair and blue eyes, but instead his hair was black and she had yet to notice his eyes.

“Bitte”, he said, his eyes still closed. When he opened them, he said: “Thank you.”

She did not reply. In fact, she just stood there, backing away as it was obvious she had injected him with a type of pain killer. Now that he was back to normal she worried that he might hurt her. She wanted to run but for some reason she didn’t. She watched as he breathed deeply, obviously now feeling the pain leave his body as the medicine kicked in.


Last edited by OrlilLicious, 8/29/2008, 7:04 pm


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8/20/2008, 3:36 am Link to this post Send Email to OrlilLicious   Send PM to OrlilLicious
 
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Re: Icarus


“Can you get me some water?”

Ummm…”, she said, hesitating.

“To you I must seem like the devil.”

She was surprised to hear him say this, but did not respond.

“Don’t worry, I will die here in the woods like a dog soon enough…if only I could have a drink of water first.”

He did look thirsty, even if the colour in his face had come back more. He kept licking his lips and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Of course she should have been wondering how the hell did he get there and what was he doing there anyway, but those types of questions never seem important when you’re frightened.

“I’ll get you some water then”, she told him. “I don’t live far. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She watched as he sat down at the base of the tree, leaning his head against it in obvious exhaustion. She watched him for a few moments, feeling a mix of uneasiness and yet fascination. For some reason all she could think of was how she was going to tell her friends about this, and if they would believe her. She was about to leave when she felt him reach for her sleeve.

“Please come back.”

Without responding she left, but the words and the look in his eyes stayed with her as she walked home. The sun would be down soon so she knew she had to hurry, and made haste to get back to the house.


Once there she headed to the kitchen, glad to find it empty.

“Victoria, is that you?” she heard her mother call from another part of the house.

“Yes”, she called back.

“Dinner’s on the table for you.”

“Thanks.”

She looked over at the plate of food, covered by a cloth to keep it warm. She went over to it and immediately thought of what to do, searching the open shelves for something to put the food in. She found a medium sized pot and dumped the contents of the plate in it, as well as some leftovers she found on the stove. Next she hurried to the fridge to find a jug of milk and she took that out as well, and the water she poured into another container.

“Mum, I’m going to Kate’s tonight”, she called out, waiting for her mother to respond.

“What about helping me with the laundry?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. I need to go.”

Wondering how she was going to carry everything, she decided that she was going to have to leave the milk, to take only the pot and water. She hurried out the door as fast as she went in, but half way from the house she automatically stopped.

What was she doing?

She should be running to the police, not back to the German in the woods. If it had not been for his wound he might have killed them by this point, so why in the hell was she doing this?

She stood there, unsure whether to go forward or go back…but then his last words echoed in her head:

“Please come back.”

Her mother had always told Victoria that her heart would one day lead her into trouble, but she did not understated what her mother meant until this moment. She had a big heart, hated to see anything or anyone in trouble, and would go out of her way to help someone in need. Not that this was a bad thing, of course, but this was taking “love thy neighbour” to a whole new level.

She had made up her mind once she got back to him that she would give him the food and water and then leave. Besides, there was nothing more she could do for him, or wanted to do for him. Who he was and what he was she could not bear to think about.

She found the spot where she had left him, and he was still sitting at the base of the tree, looking a little more alive than when she had left him.
“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

Without responding she put down the food and water.

“What is this?”

“I brought you something to eat, as well as some water.”

She watched as he reached for the water first and then began to drink thirstily.

“Thank you”, he said after he had nearly had the whole thing.

“You shouldn’t stay here; someone could walk by.”

“Where should I go?” he asked, looking up at her as she continued to stand over him.

“I don’t know…perhaps try to go in the woods a bit more, not so close to the trail. It’s better for you.”

“You mean you’re not going to tell anyone?”

When he asked this she looked into his eyes for the first time, and felt suddenly very sympathetic towards this stranger. It was an odd way to feel, especially since the reason he was there was to kill her fellow countrymen. How could she feel anything but hate for this man?

“I have to go”, she said.

“Please don’t”, he said, the sound of his teeth slightly chattering as he spoke.

Victoria looked around, seeing now how it was almost dark and with the going down of the sun it had become chilly. She folded her arms across her chest partly in response to the chill in the air, partly as a way of defence. When she did not respond, she heard him continue:

“I think it is everyone’s worst fear to die alone, especially in the dark.”

His words made her feel sorry for him. She couldn’t help it, but looking at him on the ground, wounded and dirty, she could not feel the hate for him she knew would have been natural.

“I don’t even want to be here.”

This time his voice sounded a bit choked up, and for the first time she heard fear in his voice. She did not understand what circumstances had brought him there, or how he was able to speak English so well; all she knew was that she had to help him.


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8/20/2008, 3:36 am Link to this post Send Email to OrlilLicious   Send PM to OrlilLicious
 
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Re: Icarus


Hey Lolo,

Welcome back. I know the myth of Icarus, so I am more than intrigued about how this story will earn its title.

Is Victoria an English girl, who went to study in Scotland when war broke out? I imagine she is, unless you correct me.

I was instantly aware that Victoria was on a path that had nothing to do with walking home this evening. Her big and generous heart couldn't leave the German soldier (who had to have parachuted in), even though her head told her she was helping the enemy, and that his countrymen were indirectly responsible for the death of her father years before. Still it didn't stop her from helping him; giving him the injection and going for water (and food) to further aid him.

His injuries were a concern, but Victoria seemed to be more swayed by the pain in his face, the tone of his voice and the fear he hinted that he felt being in her country. Suddenly he was just a man who needed help; help that she was going to provide.

Well done...I can't detect a bit of rustiness from the long dry spell!


 emoticon

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Thank you, Shiloh~
8/20/2008, 5:02 am Link to this post Send Email to Pammie312   Send PM to Pammie312
 
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Re: Icarus


Hey Pambi!

Long time no see on here…last time our paths crossed here was in 2007...can you believe I’ve been silent for that long (creatively, at least?)

So happy to hear you are enjoying the start of this. As I told you, I had no idea where this story was going until I started writing, so it’s kinda cool to know I don’t know where it will end, either.


Thanks for reading, deary! emoticon

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8/21/2008, 12:03 am Link to this post Send Email to OrlilLicious   Send PM to OrlilLicious
 
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Re: Icarus


AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Loretta I am SO SO SO SO SO happy you are writing again!! I'm just beside myself I am so thrilled emoticon

When I got to the bottom of the page I was a little sad because I wanted more! Haha, I'm greedy when it comes to your stories.

I love the setting of this story! Anything dealing with The Great War greatly intersts me, as you know. I'm actually taking a class o it this semester!

I have to run to class now, but I'll write more when I get back!!!

Katie
8/26/2008, 4:13 pm Link to this post Send Email to iceprincess10   Send PM to iceprincess10
 
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Re: Icarus


Okay, I'm back!

I cant tell you how quickly I was engrossed in this story. As with everything you write, I felt like I was there and I felt like Victoria and the soldier were interacting right in front of me. I really can't wait to read more; I have a feeling that I am going to love this one.

I really want to learn more about the soldier, and I also don't want him to die! emoticon Obviously he doesnt like his situation, adn I want to know what lead him to the German army.

You are thebomb.com Loretta and I can't wait to read more! Thanks so much for posting this!! You're doing a wonderful job!! As always emoticon
8/26/2008, 9:21 pm Link to this post Send Email to iceprincess10   Send PM to iceprincess10
 
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Re: Icarus


KATIE!!! emoticon

I was happy to see that you've read and how much you liked the start. Of course I won't leave you hanging for long and I hope those questions you asked will be answered. One thing I realized I did not indicate (thanks to Pambi!) was that this takes place in the south of England, during WWII. I suppose I was in such a rush to post I didn't realized I left that out. emoticon

Anywho, THANKS so much for reading. I will have the second part up within a day or two.

Kisses! emoticon

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8/26/2008, 9:30 pm Link to this post Send Email to OrlilLicious   Send PM to OrlilLicious
 
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Re: Icarus


Sorry for the delay, ladies! I'll explain later what happened, but for now here is part two (three will most likely be posted by the end of the weekend).

Hugs! emoticon


Chapter Two



“We can’t stay here. We’ll have to go somewhere else.”

The only place Victoria could think to take him was the cottage at the edge of the forest. There was risk of perhaps someone seeing them, but she knew staying there would be even more dangerous for him. It was not a commonly used path in the woods but someone was bound to find him there, either some children playing or a hunter. Hiding him away in the only place she could think of was the best solution she could come up with on the spot.

“But where?” he asked, finishing the food that she had taken for him to eat.

“Not far…can you walk?”

“Yes, I think so.”

She walked ahead and he followed. If he had any difficulty he did not show it, for he kept pace with her pretty much all the way there. They walked in silence, finding their way as best they could through the dark, only pausing when she thought she heard someone. Of course it was her mind playing tricks on her, most likely an animal nearby, but she did not let it stop them for too long. She focused on where they had to go, knowing these woods like the back of her hand, having played there many times as a young child. It almost felt like she was playing one of her childhood games now except the fear and danger she felt was real, not make-believe.

They found the cottage, looking dark and forlorn. Technically this was on her mother’s property, yet no one really owned it. People used it from time to time, mostly kids, but this was also her hiding place.

“What is this?” he asked her when she opened the door, ushering him inside.

“This is our cottage”.

“Is it OK?”

“Yes, it’s fine. No one will come here.”

Victoria closed the door to the one room cottage once they were both inside, yet it was so dark that neither of them moved at first. Moving away from the door she felt her way to find what she was looking for, and that was the box of candles she kept underneath the shelf at the far end of the cottage. She had to open a curtain to find them, to help her see her way around, but then closed it after one was lit. The first thing her eyes focused on was the young man in the uniform, standing where she had left him moments before. The light from the candle illuminated his figure as he looked at her, the reflection of the flame in his eyes.

At first she did not move, but then she put the candle down and quietly rested the box on the ground. She intended to leave them for him, but she would not stay.

“I hope this will keep you comfortable for now. There isn’t much more than a small chesterfield, table and books, but at least it’s warmer and safer than outside.”

“This is good…thank you.”

She went to leave but his voice stopped her.

“Wait…what is your name?”

“Victoria.”

“You’ve been very kind to me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I’m very frightened right now…”, she started, but he interrupted her.

“Of me?”

“No…of what might happen if they find you here.”

His eyes seemed to soften when she said this. She then realized that, despite every evidence that she should be, she was not frightened of him or what he could do to her. She felt pity, but not fear.

“There’s no need to worry about that. I will most likely die before that happens.”

She picked the candle up in her hand and, going over to him, decided to examine his wound with the light. It was located on his upper arm, where there was a lot of blood loss that stained his uniform. From the tear she could now see the wound, and while it looked messy, it did not look as bad as he thought it was.

“It’s not as bad as it seems…what I can’t understand is why all the blood?”

The blood was over the front of his uniform as well, which she could see clearly now with the light.

“This is from Lahm, the man who was with me in the plane. He was shot through the head and bled on me.”

And then, as if the question had just appeared in her head for the first time, she asked:

“How did you get here?”

“My plane caught fire and I had to parachute. I landed here in the woods, but I was stuck in the tree. I must have cut my arm when I fell because I don’t remember having it in the plane.”

She just looked at him as he spoke, realizing that he was indeed a German pilot, the ruthless men she had read about in the newspapers.

“We were on a blitz run to London but someone spotted us first.”

She put the candle down on the table after he said this, thinking of how foolish she was to be helping this man. Mixed feelings of anger and pity filled her, but she kept a calm demeanour.

“To tell you the truth, I flew the plane low on purpose so that I would get spotted and shot down. I didn’t want to kill people.”

She stood there silently but did not look at him, knowing somehow he was telling the truth.

“I’m not an evil man.”

When he said this she looked at him, as if wanting to say with her eyes that she believed him. In the back of her mind she heard her mother’s voice, telling her to run away as fast as she could; yet her instincts told her she was not in danger.

“I can do something for your wound.”

“You know what to do?”

“Yes…I don’t think it’s infected because you most likely just cut it on a branch.”


She had to leave to go back to the house to get the things she needed to help. When she got back about a half an hour later, she found him sitting on the chesterfield, resting. At first it looked like he was asleep but he raised his head when she closed the door. She also brought some more food and water, too, and put it down on the table.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

She did not answer him; instead she brought the candle closer to where he sat. She had the needle in her hand, ready to suture his wound. He looked a bit apprehensive once he saw what she was about to do to his arm.

“You’ll have to remove your shirt so I can clean the wound.”

He did as he was told and she watched as he quietly unbuttoned his uniform. When she saw he was having trouble removing it, she put the candle down to help. As gently as she could she eased the shirt off his injured arm, trying not to put too much stress on the injury. She did not see it but he watched her face as she did this, searching the features that were now close to his eyes, yet she did not seem to notice for how long his eyes lingered.

Now that his shirt was off he had on just a white undershirt, the front soaked with his fellow soldier’s blood, now dried. She tried not to notice the curves of his chest and the way the hardness underneath the shirt was apparent. She tried not to admire his dark masculinity as she threaded the needle in and out of his skin, listening to the sharp inhales of breath he took each time she pierced his flesh.

“Victoria is a very English name”, he said as she was just about finished.

“Yes, it is”, she said, trying not to lose her concentration.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” she said, threading the last bit of skin. He had his eyes closed when she looked at him, and could not help but pause at the beauty of his face. His dark hair framed a stubbly, yet chiselled face that had the look of something unworldly about him. The image of a Greek god sculpture came into her mind as she looked at him in those moments and the face before her seemed to fit the image exactly as she thought of it now.

“What do you want to know?”

She was completely caught off guard by the question he asked:

“Do you believe in God?”

His eyes were open now and he must have seen the look of surprise on her face because he apologized.

“Too personal?”

“No, it’s just an unusual question.”

“This is an unusual circumstance, is it not?”
When he said this a small smile came over his lips, which instantly made her feel more at ease communicating with this stranger. He had a comforting way of speaking to her that made her feel as if she could tell him anything, and if anything this certainly was the time for honesty.

“Religion has been difficult for me.”

“But religion and God are not the same things.”

She looked at him curiously, wondering what he meant.

“Religion is man’s way of trying to make sense of God, but God is not something you can define.”

When he saw that she understood what he meant, his next question was:
“Did something happen to make you not believe?”

She paused before she answered, making sure the thread was tied properly and would hold. This was not the first time she had sutured a wound, but she was nervous about not doing a good job. She had to wait before she answered:

“My father was an Irish Catholic and my mother’s Protestant, so it made things difficult for them when they got together. It sort of made my mother turn off religion altogether.”

“And what about your father?”

“He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry…that‘s sad.”

She was sitting down at the opposite end of the chesterfield now, looking down at the traces of his blood on her hands.

“The Great War killed him.”

“What year did he die?”

“Why?” she asked, hearing that for the first time there was resentment in her voice. This was her first time ever having met a real German, and thinking of her father and the war was just a bit too much for her to bear, even if this was another war altogether.

“Because my father died in the last year of the war, too”, he answered.



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8/29/2008, 6:56 pm Link to this post Send Email to OrlilLicious   Send PM to OrlilLicious
 
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Re: Icarus


She was surprised to hear this. She wondered if he held the same resentment towards her as she did him, even if only for a few seconds.
“My father died in 1922, but it was the war that killed him.”

“That war never ended…that’s what this war today is all about…revenge for the last one.”

She understood what he meant, for she had heard others say that this war was just a continuation of the last one, and that the Germans were seeking revenge for their defeat in 1918.

“I don’t even want to be here”, he said, seeming to think aloud rather than to talk to her. The feelings of resentment had faded, now replaced by pity once again.

“Then why are you?”

He paused for a few moments, but then spoke:

“Because I’ve always wanted to fly. My father had been in the air force in the last war and it’s what I’ve always wanted to do; I wanted to be just like him. It wasn’t until I joined up to fight that I discovered I don’t have the stomach for war.”

She listened as he spoke and saw the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about his love for flying. He told her how when he was a little boy he would look at pictures of his father and dream of being just like him in one of his planes, the two of them flying together. He went to university but he couldn’t finish because he couldn’t concentrate on much else than his dream. He joined a flight school and learned how to fly small planes, and he was already a well-trained pilot by the time war broke out in 1939. He enlisted with enthusiasm, but was oblivious to what war was really like until he was in the thick of it. It was then that he realized he did not want to fly if it meant killing people.

“And that’s how I got here. I didn’t want to kill those English people and so I flew too low, knowing that I would be low enough to get hit by the English planes and yet not be high enough to crash too hard. I didn’t want for my mate to be killed but it happened, and there is nothing I can do about that now…one German life saved many English lives.”

She had tears in her eyes when she heard him say this, realizing for the first time that not all Germans were monsters, like she had been brought up to believe. Hate can sometimes blind people to the truth, and now that her eyes were opened she was amazed at how healed she felt over her father’s death. Even though she felt like she was about to cry, she cleared her throat and composed herself enough to speak after he was done.

“You asked if I believe in God…the truth is I never did…until now.”

She felt the need to explain further.

“It’s a miracle that I can talk to a German without hating him.”

“Because of your father?”

She nodded yes, feeling emotional as she revealed this to him. She took a moment to composer herself again, hoping that she would not cry in front of him.

“By all rights we should not be sitting like this together”, he said.

He was right: technically they were enemies, but in reality they were just strangers. She looked over at him and, wondering, she asked:

“What’s your name?”

“Eamon.”

He smiled afterwards.

“Now we are no longer strangers.”

She returned a shy smile, wondering if he had read her mind.


A silence then filled the air in the room for some moments as the two of them sat thinking. She tried not to look over at him but could not stop herself from doing so, and when she did she saw that he was looking at her. She did not look away right away, but then had to because something was too intense about what silently passed between them in the midst of all that quiet. It was as if he was speaking to her without saying words.

She got up and brought him the water, deciding to drink some herself as she was thirsty.

“You don’t need to, I can get it”, he said to her as she passed him the container of water.

“I want to.”

He stood up at this point and was standing next to her.

“I’ve never known anyone so kind before.”

“My mother says my heart is too big”, she said, revealing more of her personal side to him. Usually she was more reserved, but with him she felt comfortable, especially after he had been so honest with her.

“Luckily for me or else you could have left me there to die.”

She did not want to even think of that.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“No.”

“How long will that shot last that you gave yourself a few hours ago?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve never had to take one before. Luckily I have two more for when the pain comes back.”

“The wound’s not so deep. You should be alright.”

He gave her a look as if to say that while he wanted to believe her, perhaps she was not thinking clearly as to the adversity of the situation.

She walked over to the windows and made sure the shutters were closed all the way.

“Do you want to know something weird?”, she began. “I was in here one night when there was a raid on London…I had to close these blinds to prevent light from getting out, like the authorities told us to, less we should be a target. I blew out the candles and sat in the dark and listened to the German planes going by on their way to bomb London… the funny thing is I wasn’t really frightened then.”

“Are you now?” he asked her.

“No”, she said, not turning to look at him. He had asked her that before, but perhaps he was just making sure.

“Why not?”

“Because you would have killed me by now if you wanted to. I felt the gun in your bag as I got it down from the trees.”

“Why did you give it to me then?”

“I guess I knew you wouldn’t hurt the one person who could help you.”

He smiled.

“Very smart thinking. You must watch a lot of movies.”

She smiled when he said this.

“Not really. We live too far from any place that plays them.”

“But you have seen them, right?”

“Of course”, she said. “Is that how you learnt English?”

“Yes…but then Hitler banned the English films in Germany so I had to learn on my own, which I did, as you can see.”

“That’s amazing.”

He continued to stand there by the couch, while she stood further away by the windows. She watched as the light of the candle reflected off his face, making his eyes somewhat glow. The beauty of his figure took her a bit by surprise, as if each time she looked at him he somehow got more and more striking. It was just she had never seen a man so good-looking, both in features and in body; he looked almost perfect standing there.

“Chaplin is my favourite.”

“You know Chaplin?”

“Of course”, he said amusingly, “we used to get all the big Hollywood movies in Germany…my favourite line that I remember from him is ‘a day without laughter is a day wasted’”.

She smiled. “Yes, I know that line”.

“The problem is I haven’t laughed yet today.”

She went more serious when he said this.

“It’s hardly a day for laughing, don’t you think?”

“Why not? We’re alive, aren’t we? You’ve saved my life…and you’re here now, at least for tonight…tomorrow you may run away from me.”

“No, I won’t, but we do have to do something.”

“Let’s not think of that now…”

“Alright”, she said, understanding that he did not want to think that far ahead, and to be honest neither did she. She was not sure what the morning held, but she did know that she was here and that for some reason they seemed to need each other.



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8/29/2008, 6:56 pm Link to this post Send Email to OrlilLicious   Send PM to OrlilLicious
 
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Registered: 08-2005
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Re: Icarus


Victoria was brave and scared to help the German soldier Eamon. Her nearness to him as she stitched his wound underscored that a bond was forming, despite their differences--she being English and he an enemy behind lines.

What will he do; he's a soldier who wants no part of the fight, but joining the army was a way to honor his father and satisfy his yearning to fly. He's betrayed his country, and has no desire to kill in Hitler's name, so he crashes his plane and while he expects no mercy, he relies on his wits and the kindness of a strange girl to help him survive.

Victoria helps him by hiding him, fixing his hurt arm and feeding him. Regardless of all the reasons she should leave him, she stays and the attraction grows. With her alibi in place, she prepares to stay with him through the night; she knows nothing of what will happen before morning light, but is willing to risk her safety, based on her instincts about the young man.

I can't wait to find out what the long hours before dawn reveal about each of them.



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Thank you, Shiloh~
8/30/2008, 5:44 am Link to this post Send Email to Pammie312   Send PM to Pammie312
 


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