2d (edited) • Snippets
From "The Purity Project"
I fear some of my stuff might be too dark for anywhere else, so I'll put it here instead. This novella is definitely unpublishable. Its set within the Third Reich's Lebensborn program and told from the point of view of the participants. The intention isn't to glorify the Third Reich, although the characters certainly see it as glorious because they've been denied a moral compass. (or at least had it blinded). I still love my characters. Shrug.
Here's a scene from early on...
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Kristina raised her hand and asked matter-of-factly, "Are we going to have babies?"
"Yes, hopefully," Greta answered. "Perfect German babies. But tonight, a treat. We're dining in the city. You'll be collected from your homes between six and six thirty. Wear your uniforms, to make your school proud, but also these."
She opened a velvet-lined mahogany jewellery box and beckoned them to come forward. Nellie was first and her eyes shone as Greta pinned a silver brooch to her lapel. The upward-pointing lightning bolt, symbol of the Lebensborn program, with the slanted SS beneath.
When everyone had theirs, Greta said, "Wear them with pride. But act with good graces. I know you will."
In the evening, under a soft drizzle of rain, highly polished limousines crept through the suburbs collecting the eight students from their homes. The driver opened and closed the rear door for each VIP. They left behind parents still coming to terms with their family's good fortune.
A uniformed doorman in bottle-green, with brass buttons and white gloves, greeted them on arrival at the finest restaurant in the city. He ushered them through heavy wooden doors with frosted glass panels etched in Art Deco geometrics. The doorman held the students in the foyer until they had all arrived and then led them through to the dining room. Greta was there waiting for them, sat at a long central table, surrounded by smaller tables with regular guests.
The girls marveled at the cream wainscoted walls, deep burgundy drapes, and the thick wine-coloured carpet that hushed their footsteps. All warmly lit by wall sconces of frosted glass. Their table had been dressed in a crisp ivory-white tablecloth, the linen folded so sharply at the corners it could have been paper. The nine place settings held heavy silverware—three forks, two knives, two spoons—and a wine goblet at each place.
As they filed between the tables, all heads turned their way. The chatter of conversation and tinkling of cutlery stilled. People who noticed the Lebensborn badges, stood. The men bowed; the women curtseyed. Some guests moved chairs and side tables to ensure nothing blocked their passage.
Keeping their faces neutral, while a waiter and a waitress pulled their chairs out for them, Ingrid stopped Johan from unfolding his own napkin. As keen as he was, to find out how all the wonderful heady smells from the kitchen tasted. He saw why a moment later, when the waitress did it for him, laying it across his lap.
The finest German Riesling splashed into the goblets, and Greta cautioned, "Just that one drink, for this special occasion. We can't have alcohol messing with your studies." She raised her glass. "To our future!" Everyone clinked glasses together.
An old soldier, upon finishing his meal, shambled over and stood at the foot of the children's table, his head held high as he saluted them sharply. At which point Nellie left her seat and, for some inexplicable reason, hugged the veteran around his legs. When he lowered his hand and turned away, he was wiping tears of pride from his bloodshot cheeks.
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From "The Purity Project"
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