#square really had a thing about doing SOMETHING to your main party leader halfway through the game huh

[etlu-yume]

kinda mad that today I didn't get any further in the story-story for ffvii but I know that doing sidequests and upgrades NOW will mean less pain LATER but gdi I want to find out the next bit of just how wildly fucked up the story is that I did not pick up on over the last like 20 years lmao

[ecotone99]

[HF] The Plague

“Rivka! No sweets before lunch!”

“Yes, ima!”

The little girl dropped the box of chocolates back into the wicker basket on the till. Her head slumped and she turned to her mother, dragging her feet.

“I was only going to eat one, you know…”

“Nevertheless, those are the rules. Bubbe made cabbage soup.”

“Fine, ima.”

Rivka closed her eyes and a single tear rolled down her dry, wrinkled skin. Her wrists ached as the rope dug into her skin, hot as molten iron. She tried reaching her face, she wanted to cover it, to prevent them from seeing her tears, but she couldn’t move her hands, they were tied so tight. As they dragged her into the oven’s blazing fire, she let out a quiet cry, pondering at the irony of it all.

**\*

Greta looked over her shoulder and hollered:

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

The little boy tried to pick up the pace. He was dragging a large brown leather satchel behind him, trying to lift it off the ground. He struggled for a few more steps, then came to a halt, shaking under his own weight and breathing heavily.

“It’s too heavy, Greta!”

Greta stopped in her tracks, turned towards her brother and rolled her eyes.

“Next time you listen to me. We should’ve gone to the Factory after the meeting, not before.”

“After the meeting she always runs out of toffees. You know that,” snarled Hans.

Greta opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind and said instead, “Fine, at least let me help you with that. The Feldwebel is going to kill us.” She bent over her brother and took the satchel from his hands. It was indeed heavy. The zipper had broken halfway through and red and blue wrappers were peeking out of it. “You spent all your pocket money, Hans. Mom will be really upset.” But the boy wasn’t listening anymore. He was skipping on the pebbled street, not a care in the world.

“Great,” muttered Greta. She hoisted the satchel on her left shoulder and went after her brother. It was a warm spring day. She felt the warmth of the sun on her face and she thought to herself she would like to go anywhere else in the world right now than to a Hitler Youth meeting. The whole thing was tedious and absurd. Every Wednesday, straight after school, she would wait for Hans at the school gate then walk together through the town square, cross the park, then turn left on Miller Lane and walk all the way down to the last house. There, they would turn left again and go through the gate in the old town wall and onto the pasture beyond it. The town’s cows were grazing tranquilly, not noticing anything around them, besides the annoying flies that had already started to pester them. After crossing the pasture, they would follow the trail at the foot of the forest until they reached The Sweets Factory, die Süsswarenfabrik. This was Hans’s favourite place in the whole world. Since he had been big enough to chew, Hans had loved chocolate and sweets. Greta remembered how he reached his tiny chubby hands to the kitchen cabinet where he knew mom kept the tin of candies. She would climb onto a chair, open the cabinet door and extract two wrapped candies from the tin. She would take one out of the wrapper and give it to Hans. The little boy would grab it with his fingers, draw them into a chubby fist and suckle on it happily until the chocolate melted in his palm. He would then open his hand and draw his tongue on each finger, sucking on his thumb, until all the chocolate came off. Greta liked to watch him do it, looking at the concentration in his eyes as he was trying to get every last bit of chocolate off his hands. She would then wait for the sad realisation that the candy was gone and for the desperate look on his face as he lifted his eyes towards her, questioningly. He couldn’t speak yet, but she knew what he meant. “No more?” She would pause, but just for a moment, to prolong just a tiny bit his anguish and then would take out the second candy, unwrap it, and triumphantly present it to Hans. The next part she loved the most. Every time, her brother let out a shrill giggle, and reached out both his arms towards her, so eager to grab the candy, that he seemed to want to plunge himself into her arms. As she watched him devour the second candy, her heart swelled with tenderness for this young child who she loved most dearly.

Hans stopped suddenly and turned to Greta, his plump face wrinkled with worry.

“Do you… do you think I’ll have to share it with them?” he pointed to the satchel. She broke off from her reverie and smiled.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Hans.” He nodded to himself and picked up the pace. He looked pleased by the notion that he didn’t have to share his treasure of sweets with anyone. Greta worried about him sometimes. No doubt he had always been spoiled, being the youngest. But lately, he had become more and more self-indulgent and stubborn. In the past, he would always look up to her and listen to what she had to say. But ever since he had enrolled in the Academy, things had changed. Greta thought he was too young to join, but their parents insisted. They wanted him to be a good German boy, socialise with his peers and learn good Aryan values. And he was so excited by the idea, more excited than Greta would had liked. She had avoided joining the Jungmüdel well past the point where all her classmates had already been members for the better part of a year. It wasn’t until Herr Schmidt paid her parents a visit one Sunday afternoon, sat down at their dining room table, drank their tea and ate their scones while telling them they had no choice but to send her to the Academy for Youth Leadership, that it was finally decided she had to go. Her parents had been pretty oblivious to the importance the Academy had gained in the past couple of years. They worked long hours at the mill in Maaslingen and when they came home, all they cared about was eating some food and getting some rest before they had to go back to work. So Greta and Hans had to take care of each other. She was used to it by now, in a way she felt Hans belonged more to her than to their mother. After all, it was Greta who made sure he was fed, dressed and cleaned. She took him to school every day and she went with him to the Sweets Factory to buy chocolates. And now, he was no longer her baby borther, he was becoming a Hitler Youth. So fond was he of the Academy that he had taken to wearing his Hitlerjunge uniform all the time, much to Greta’s despair. To Hans, all this seemed like an exciting adventure, free from anyone watching over him. He seemed to fit in with the rest of his youth group and Greta had even seen him at school, taking pleasure in towering over the younger boys, who had not turned of age yet and bragging about his war game stories at the Academy. She felt a sharp pang in her chest. She had to do something, they were getting to him.

Greta watched him struggling to keep the balance of his round belly as he was skipping ahead. He was breathing heavily and it was obvious that he was barely carrying his weight. He turned to Greta and said,

“Give me one.” She hesitated and wanted to say no but then he furrowed his brow and she gave in. She took a candy out of the bag and gave it to him.

“It is making him ill,” she thought.

They took the last turn and could now see the big concrete building that was the Academy for Youth Leadership. It was built on top of the hill and used to be the old sanatorium before the Nazi Party confiscated it and converted into a training facility for young Germans. Greta curled her upper lip in disgust as they approached the foot of the hill. She started climbing the stairs and noticed Hans was trailing behind, completely out of breath. She took out her water bottle and extended it to him.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled and pushed past her. He was determined not to admit that his weight had become bothersome.

They made it to the top of the hill, around the building and through the main gate. A group of several children had already gathered in the courtyard, sitting in a half-circle around an older boy, very tall, with light blonde hair, who towered proudly over them, one foot propped on a wooden chair. He looked their way as they approached and said,

“Greta, you sit with us today.” Greta made a conscious effort to lift the corners of her mouth into a smile.

“Something wrong with Irma?”

“Oh, no, no,” the older boy smiled back. “It’s just that today is the first of a series of special meetings. The Party wants you to start learning about the truly important things and has entrusted me to teach them to you.” As he said these words, the boy drew in a large breath of air and puffed out his chest. Greta mustered all the self-restraint she possessed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Hans started skipping again towards the group on the grass and sat himself directly in front of the tall boy. Greta kept her distance, choosing a spot several meters away from the group and sat down cross-legged on the grass. She took off the satchel and put it behind her so that the small of her back rested against it. The tall boy nodded to himself as he watched her sit down and returned to his conversation with the children around him. Hans was gazing at him, his lips slightly parted. Suddenly he got to his feet and walked towards his sister.

“Give me the big box, please.” Greta raised an eyebrow and he continued, “I think he might like it.”

“I thought you didn’t want to share,” she said.

“It’s just for him. Oh, come on!” he stomped his foot.

Greta dragged the satchel onto her lap and started rummaging through it until she felt the sharp cardboard corner of the chocolate box. She extracted it with care and placed it in Hans’s outstretched hand. He turned on his heels without saying a word and walked back to the Squad Leader. He took the box from her brother, looked it over and for an instant seemed pleased. But then his face sank and he dropped the box onto the grass, crushed it with the heel of his boot and spat. Greta couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he looked disgusted and angry. She glanced at her brother, and although she couldn’t see his face, she knew his eyes had filled with tears by the way his shoulders dropped to the ground. The tall boy took a few steps away from Hans and gestured towards the last group of children to sit down. He cleared his throat as he perused the now almost sixty children, boys and girls, sat on the grass in front of him.

“Welcome!” His voice pierced through the air like a sharp arrow. “Today we sit together, German brothers and German sisters. Our parents and our leaders believe you are old enough to learn the truth about the world we live in. I agree. And I think it is more important than ever that you learn the truth.” He turned, pointed at Hans and continued, “Hans Grimm showed me that today. He brought me a box of chocolates, a lovely thing, many of you think, I am sure. But it is not lovely, it is vile. For all the chocolate, and the sweets, and the biscuits in this town are poisoned. Yes, poisoned!” He raised a hand to silence the murmurs of panic that had risen in his audience.

“Do you know why you never get that new pair of shoes? Do you know why you wear your brothers’ old uniforms or why your parents are always away and always tired and angry when they come home? It’s because they cannot find a decent job in town, it’s because they have to travel to other towns to work hard in factories, because their jobs and their money, their birthright is taken away by other people. Foreign people, people who are not Germans!” He paused, giving his words time to land on the children sat at his feet. “It’s people like Sharar Leibel in Ridingen, Avisha Ostroff in Darbein, Samaria Federman in Maaslingen, or… Rivka Himmelstein here!” Every child in the audience gasped in unison. They looked at each other with big eyes, not yet ready to believe that Rivka was the reason their parents had to work themselves to death six days a week.

“Yes, Rivka, all sugar and honey Rivka, infiltrated this town with her family of thieves long before any of you was born. They took advantage of our people’s kindness and stole the factory right from under us. Before they came, the Germans who owned the factory gave out chocolate for free to all the children in town and gave jobs to all their parents. Since Rivka and her people came, they sent all the Germans away and started charging you for the sweets.”

“That’s not really true, though, is it?” asked Greta, her voice shaking. “The factory was not there before. Rivka’s father built it. And they always had workers there, it’s in the last years that the Party has forbidden our parents to work there. That’s what Rivka says, anyway,” she added quickly as everyone turned to look at her.

“Lies! That is what Rivka would like us to believe, but who would you believe over our parents, over our leaders? Her? A stranger? A foreigner? A… a… Jew? She doesn’t even look like us, how can we trust her?” the Feldwebel asked.

“Yeah, shut up, Greta!” someone shouted. Greta looked around and saw that it was Hans.

Silence fell. Greta could see the wheels spinning in every blonde head around. She knew they believed him.

“Go home, go to your parents and ask them about Jews. Let them tell you how they all lost something because of them. Then, Greta, you can come and call me a liar,” he snarled, then turned his back on them and strutted into the building.

One by one, the children stood up and started walking towards the gate, gathering in small groups and whispering hurriedly to each other. Greta sighed and started towards Hans who was being pulled to his feet by two skinny, pale boys.

“Do you mind going home without me?” she asked. “You can walk with the rest of them,” she gestured towards a small group to their right. “I want to see if Irma is alright,” she lied.

“Fine,” Hans replied. “Give me some sweets for the walk back, will you.”

Greta obliged, not wanting to get into an argument. She gave him two fistfuls of candy, waved goodbye and started hurriedly through the gates, back the way they had come. She took advantage of the fact everyone else seemed too preoccupied with their conversations to take any notice of her, and after she passed through the gates she started running on the trail. As she was racing, she could feel her brain throbbing with anger. She could not believe him! Instead of being on her side, Hans had agreed with the stupid, awful, horrible Feldwebel. What a swine! By the time she reached the red brick building she was panting, her face red and sweaty. The shop out front was closed, so she tugged on the bell pull attached to the front door. She glanced over her shoulder, trying to see if anyone was coming. She still had some time left before the first group caught up with her. This was the only way into town, so if Rivka didn’t answer the door soon, they would certainly catch her. Fortunately, she spotted a movement inside, and through the big shop windows she could see the door behind the counter open, and a silhouette emerge. It was a tall, slim woman, wearing a white apron speckled with brown traces of chocolate. She went to the door and goggled her dark, beady eyes outside, trying to tell who had rung the bell. She spotted Greta and smiled. The woman took off the gloves she was wearing, unlocked the door and exclaimed,

“Twice in a day, now that is something!”

“Um, hello again,” Greta squeezed in through the open door, looking behind her. “Sorry to bother you, Rivka.”

“Not a bother at all! It’s so nice to have company. Did you forget to buy something?”

“No, not exactly. I was hoping we could talk.”

Rivka blinked at the little girl in front of her, but added quickly,

“You better come in the back then, and out of this sun.”

She locked the door behind them and led Greta behind the counter, through the wooden door she had emerged from earlier and into what looked like a big kitchen. The smell of melted chocolate and caramel engulfed Greta as she walked in. A large wooden table stood in the middle of the room, covered in a multitude of copper pots and pans. Greta could hear a crackling sound, and as she looked around, she could see in the corner of the room a gigantic brick oven, taller than she was, flames ablaze through the glass doors. Rivka gestured towards a chair that looked all shabby, and Greta sat down.

“Well?” Rivka leaned her weight on the edge of the big table, looking down at Greta.

“I wanted to talk to you about my brother, Hans. You know him, right, we come in here together all the time.”

“Of course, my most prized customer,” laughed Rivka. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Oh nothing, he’s fine. At least I hope he is,” Greta trailed off, fidgeting with her hands. “He loves your chocolate, you know he does. And he loves sweets, always has, ever since he was little. But lately… well, he is a bit chubbier than before…”

“Baby fat!” laughed Rivka. “That’s nothing, it will go away in no time.”

“It’s not just that,” Greta added hastily. “He’s different. He comes here every week and buys a ton of chocolate and then he hides it away, keeps it only to himself. He doesn’t want to share it with anyone. He used to keep half of everything he had for me, now he gets angry if I ask him for a piece. I don’t like what it’s doing to him,” she concluded. Her voice was raspy and tears had come to her eyes.

“I see.” Rivka bent down to her and took her hands into her own. “Well, I guess I will have to stop selling it to him then.” She gave Greta’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “Say no more, I know exactly what to do. Chocolate is amazing while it makes people and children happy. But sometimes, as with all things that bring us pleasure, it can show its ugly face. My father knew it, his father before him knew it, and I know it.” Rivka stood up solemnly and nodded to herself, as if she had taken a decision. “Very well,” she said. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Greta hesitated. For a second she wanted to tell her yes, be careful. Yes, people are horrible and they don’t care for you. He said all those horrible things and everyone agreed. But she didn’t. What she said instead was,

“Oh, no, that was all. Thank you for understanding.” She got to her feet and walked through the door, back into the store and then outside. She turned to Rivka and waved goodbye. The woman was standing in the doorway, a serene smile on her face, feeling safe and content in her own little corner of the world.

**\*

“Come here, you two.” Greta’s parents were sat at the kitchen table, looking tired and weary. Her father was holding his head in his hands and as they sat down in front of him, he didn’t lift his eyes to look at them. “We know your Feldwebel talked to you today,” their mother continued. “About the… dangerous people around. We just wanted to tell you that he is absolutely right. You should stay away from these people from now on. And if he or anyone else asks you, tell him our family never shops at their stores. Never.”

Greta tried to catch her father’s gaze, but he kept his eyes averted, not saying anything, giving an almost imperceptible nod. She was so confused! Where was this coming from? The Feldwebel was a moron, she knew that, her mother could be absurd at times, she knew that as well, but her father, her papa, he never asked them to do anything without explaining it to them first. And even then, he always wanted to know if they agreed to do what he asked of them. Always.

“But, mama,” she started.

“Enough!” Greta jumped at the voice of her father. “You heard your mother. We will speak of this no more.” He got to his feet and walked out the door, leaving her dumbfounded.

“Right, be gone now you two. I have to make dinner.” Greta’s mother shooed them away.

**\*

It was Wednesday again, time for another meeting at the Academy. Greta woke up with a pang in her chest, trying to figure out what was wrong. Then she remembered.

“They are right about her, you know.” Greta sat up, confused as to what her brother meant. “I went by the factory yesterday, before marching practice, and I convinced myself. She is evil.”

“What do you mean?”

“She wouldn’t sell me any chocolates, or any sweets, or anything. She said she doesn’t want to anymore. I offered to give her all my pocket money, still she wouldn’t give me anything,” his voice was now trembling.

“That doesn’t make her evil, Hans. Maybe she had a good reason for doing that, you know.”

“Yeah, like what?” Greta hesitated for a split second, she thought about telling him she was the one who asked Rivka not to give him anymore sweets, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to drive him any further away from her.

“I don’t know, Hans.” Greta lowered her eyes. “I just don’t think she’s evil, that’s all.”

“Well I think you’re wrong. I think you have no idea of anything and you want me to be just like you. The Feldwebel said you were gonna do that!” Hans was on his feet, his fists tight at his sides.

“Do what exactly?” Greta shouted. She couldn’t believe Hans would bring the Feldwebel, that schwein into this.

“That! What you always do! Tell me what to think, what to do! I hate you!” Hans slammed the door behind him, leaving her stunned.

She didn’t see him again until later that afternoon, at the Academy. When she got dressed and went into the kitchen, he had already left for school, leaving his breakfast untouched, and then, when classes ended, Greta asked around for him but was told he had gone early to the Academy. She sighed and started the long walk there by herself, knowing that that night, after dinner, they’d both be in their beds, with the lights off, and Hans would ask her to tell him a story, so he could fall asleep. She smiled to herself, it was only a matter of time until they would be friends again.

She walked hurriedly on the gravel path, past the factory, trying her best not to peek inside to look for Rivka. She felt ashamed and guilty to have asked her to refuse Hans. She had only managed to make him angrier and drive him further away from her.

Children had already gathered on the lawn, sitting down in small groups, chatting excitedly to each other. Their Feldwebel was there too, deep in conversation with a blonde girl, around his age. So Irma was back, too. Hans sat in his usual place, very close to them, his knees folded to his chin. Greta caught his eye and waved, but her brother looked away. Still mad, then, she thought. The children around her were quieting down, so Greta sat down on the cool grass and looked at the Feldwebel and Irma. She cleared her throat and started reporting in a dull, low voice, the latest victories and accomplishments of the Party all across Germany. She told them about how many new members the Hitler Youth had amassed, how many girls, and how many boys, how their brothers and sisters conducted some manifestation in the capital where they met the Führer and how soon enough they would be called upon to march for him too. Greta was drowsing off, not really listening to the tedious speech, when suddenly her reverie was interrupted by the Feldwebel’s thundering change of pace. She snapped back to reality and blinked several times to bring him into focus.

“Thank you, Irma, for this most wonderful account of the great things going on in the nation. We are proud to be a part of it and are waiting eagerly to be called to duty by our Führer. But in the meantime, it is our responsibility to better ourselves, by training and by learning about the dangers that await us. So this week’s story touches precisely on that, the perils around us.” He cleared her throat, opened a small book, bound in black leather and started reading, “In the year 1349 a great plague befell the earth. Death went around the world, taking everyone with her, both Saracens and Christians. Entire lands were left emptied, not a soul spared. The Bishop of Marseilles paid with his life, along with hundreds of priests and monks, and more than half of the people there. The pope of Avignon locked himself away, not letting anyone in to see him, and Strasbourg it is said to have lost more than sixteen thousand people.” The Feldwebel paused, waiting for the children’s shocked reaction. “No one could tell where the epidemic was coming,” he continued. Only that is was God’s will. It was then that they realised the Jews had been poisoning the water in the wells. Such was the wickedness of this people. A number of Jews in Berne and Zofingen confessed that they had put poison in many wells. For this reason, Jews were trialed all around the world and burnt at the stake for witchcraft. The result was that all the way from the Mediterranean to Germany, the Jews burnt, and wherever they were expelled they were caught by the peasants and stabbed to death or drowned… And the Plague died with them.” Silence fell as the Feldwebel finished reading and closed the book. “So now you should all take heed of this story and stay away from Jews, so that a new plague does not befall us.”

He kept talking for several more minutes, but Greta couldn’t hear a single word. Tears had flooded her eyes and her hands were shaking. This was so unfair! This was so evil! She knew Rivka, and she knew Sharar Leibel who owned the bakery in Ridingen. Avisha Ostroff had a bookshop in Darbein, she had gotten all her textbooks from him. They were all nice people, they smiled when they talked to her and were kind, and she had grown up knowing them. Why was this happening now? Her head was spinning and she felt her entire body ache. She wanted to jump on him, slap his face and shout for everyone to hear that he was a foul liar. But instead, she clenched her fists and bit into her lip until she tasted metal. Others around her were whispering, clearly confused.

“The Feldwebel is right!” Hans was on his feet. He looked disconcerted for a second, but the Feldwebel nodded for him to go on. “Last tttt… last time I was at the Factory, I rang the bell but no one answered. She didn’t answer, you see? So I tried going in, I only wanted to buy some chocolates, you know? And the door was open. So I went in.” He paused for a moment and shuffled his feet, his cheeks bright red.

“Go on, Hans!” Irma said encouragingly.

“The store was empty so I went behind the counter, into the kitchen. She had her back to the door so she didn’t see me come in. She was stirring in a big pot of chocolate, and then, she added something to it. Something from a glass bottle she took from a cabinet. It had a label… the bottle… it said…” Hans trailed off.

“What did it say, Hans?” Irma came closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing him encouragingly.

“Tell us, boy! the Feldwebel thundered.

“…it said poison!” Hans broke into tears.

Greta was screaming on the inside. She could not believe her ears. Everyone around her was speaking in agitation.

“We must act quickly!” the Feldwebel belted over the murmurs. “When was this? Speak up, boy!”

“It was… it was… yesterday.” Hans looked confused and scared.

What was he talking about? He couldn’t have gone to the factory yesterday, Greta was sure. They had spent the entire day together, doing homework at the kitchen table. She wanted to say something, to stop them, but before she realised, the Feldwebel was leading the crowd of children towards the front gate.

“Come, follow me!” he called. “We still have time to stop her!”

The children had filed behind him and were now marching on the pebbled road towards the factory. What were they gonna do? Greta hurried behind them, trying to catch up. As the procession was striding closer and closer to the factory, agitated cries rose from the children.

“She is poisoning the chocolate!”

“She’s evil!”

“She’s a witch!”

“Stop her!”

“Kill her!”

Greta’s head was spinning, she could not collect her thoughts or think of anything to say to stop them. She was simply being carried by the horde around her.

The children at the front of the procession came to a halt and silence fell. They had reached the factory. Greta could feel a surge of tension around her, like taught springs, ready to be released. They had formed half a circle around the store’s front, and were waiting in line, looking breathlessly at the Feldwebel. He took a couple of steps forward, ignored the bell pull and knocked on the glass door three times, hard.

“Rivka Himmelstein! Come out!”

The old woman opened the door, looking at the crowd in front of her store, her eyebrows raised.

“What is this commotion about?” she demanded, wiping her hands on her white apron. “Can I help you, young man?”

“You can help yourself by confessing to your criminal actions!” the Feldwebel boomed, looking at the children, who had gathered closer, tightening the circle.

“Confess to what?” laughed Rivka. “You look agitated, and with good reason. Look at you, outside in this heat! But no worries, it’s nothing a glass of iced tea and some chocolate can’t fix. You wait here, I’ll bring you some.” Rivka gestured to go back in the store, but the Feldwebel launched forwards and grabbed her thin arm.

“You’re staying right here, where we can see you,” he snarled. “And there won’t be any chocolate, not anymore. We know what you were up to, selling us poisoned chocolate.”

Rivka tried to pull her arm away from his grasp, looking scared for the first time.

“Poisoned? Don’t be silly, where would I get poisoned chocolate from?” She forced a smile, but her voice was trembling, Greta could hear it.

“You are poisoning it! You want to bring the end of the Aryan race by poisoning us, the children first, so that you and the other Judenschweine can steal what is rightfully ours!” Greta heard hissing all around her, a small boy picked up a stone and threw it in Rivka’s direction, barely missing her head.

“No!” the Feldwebel roared. “We will do this properly. We will hold a trial and convict the old hag fairly. We will not act like barbarians, like they do. We are above that.”

The crowd settled. Several of the older boys grunted in disagreement and to Greta it seemed like they preferred to lynch Rivka right then and there, and get it over with.

“Right.” The Feldwebel turned towards the children, not letting go of Rivka’s arm. “Let’s begin. You two,” he gestured to the boys closest to him. “Grab some rope and tie her to a chair.” One of the boys hurried inside, brought a wooden chair and placed it next to Rivka. The Feldwebel pushed her down on it and gestured to the other boy, who was holding the rope, to tie her hands behind her back.

“Rivka Himmelstein, you stand accused of witchcraft! We will hereby prove your guilt and sentence you to death!” the Feldwebel declared loudly, pointing towards the woman. Rivka had shrunk several centimeters and was now shaking.

“What are you talking about? Witchcraft? Are you crazy?” she shrieked, looking at the children around her, who were chanting, “Witch! Witch! Witch!”

“There’s no use lying! We have a witness! We all listened to his testimony, he saw you concocting your poisonous potion.” The chanting was intensifying and Greta could feel her temples pulsing to the beat of the words. She stood there frozen, not able to speak or move. She was witnessing the scene from above, from outside her own body, able to see and hear everything, but not really there. She forced herself to find Hans, but he was nowhere to be seen. Greta thought for a second she should go look for him, but the Feldwebel was asking something. All around her, children were lifting their hands in the air.

“Guilty! Guilty! Burn the witch!”

But there was no trial, Greta thought. There was no testimony, Hans was missing. And they were children! Children! They couldn’t find someone guilty, this was madness! She felt the ground slip from under her and everything went dark. When she came to her senses, she was lying on the ground, and the crowd around her was gone. Faint shouts were coming from inside the factory. Greta struggled back on her feet, a sinking feeling growing in her stomach. She went inside the building, and followed the clamor into the kitchen. The Feldwebel was up on the table, pounding two copper pans together. The children looked like wild animals, screaming and thrashing left and right. They had formed a tight circle around a gray and rumpled shape that was squirming, trying to get free. They were pushing and pulling on it, trying to get it into the oven. Greta glimpsed her brother’s familiar face, now twisted with effort and determination, as they managed to shove the shape into the fire. Silence fell as a single, quiet cry erupted from the flames.

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