Entry V – February 22nd 1949
I woke early this morning to be alone with Nikola.
The darkness possessed a somewhat sinister aura. Shivering, I kneeled down beside a crudely calved ‘x’ marking the grave spot.
I talked to Nikola for a while; related in hushed whispers the blissful occurrence of my dream from the night before last. When Nikola was alive, I felt as though I could approach with anything. She was never judgemental. She owned a keen listening ear, and I valued her honesty. I can’t quite talk to Hannah the way I used to with Nikola. I always feel a little awkward when discussing matters of the heart with my sibling.
An hour or so later, first light blossomed. Radiant topaz swirls rippled the sky. Sadly, the glorious spectacle was not to last. To my frustration, a cluster of indigo snow-clouds began blotching away the thin strip of glowing yellow smeared across the horizon. They threatened ominously. My heart sank deep within my chest. The occurrence of another blizzard would be a major setback. I stood, draped my musty blanket loosely across my shoulders, and hurried back toward the shelter. I burst inside. The others were already milling round, packing up our things and eating scraps of stale, mouldy bread.
Hannah’s eyes were sad; ringed with dark circles. She tried a slight, tired smile. I could tell that she hadn’t slept a wink; neither had Justus or Petrus. She tore a small morsel of bread from her portion, and stuffed it in her mouth. She extended the bigger piece to me. I snatched it from her hands. Saliva oozed from the corners of my mouth.
We packed up all of our belongings and stripped our shelter of the ragged reams of wool forming its covering. Yanking the tent-pegs from the earth and hoisting our knapsacks over our shoulders, we set off.
We aimed to make swift time before the snow, if any, arrived. We trekked until noon, heading south-west. According to our calculations, if we were to cover at least ten miles within a twelve-hour period, we would make it home in approximately three weeks. The thought was uplifting, but the reality was bitterly disappointing. We accomplished only six miles, which, in view of the weather, was commendable.
Shortly before setting up camp for the night, we entered into a woodland area. Clusters of feeble oaks swept the acres of colourless, melancholy terrain. Sleety snow dappled the landscape.
After pitching our tents, Hannah and I left the boys unpacking our belongings in search of water. The snow had been our main source of water, which we’d boil and then use to cook our potatoes. With all the fluffy white having thawed, we had to seek out an alternate source. Stumbling upon the forest was a surreal blessing, for we realised that our chances of finding a spring of natural, running water were higher.
At first, our explorations were fruitless. The trees were naked, weak; resembled crooked witches fingers. A thick mantle of leaves adorned the forest floor, crunched underfoot. A bare, eerie silence lingered. The forest was wholly uncluttered.
We continued walking, making sure to trace our path by engraving a mark in each tree we passed with a rusty pen-knife.
Abruptly, Hannah dropped to her knees, and put her ear to the ground. ‘Shush,’ she hissed. Then, ‘listen carefully, Grets’. She dimpled, a wry smile spreading across her face.
Imitating my sister, I kneeled to the earth. That’s when I heard it: the faint trickling of water. I couldn’t help grinning. We followed the sound, so beautiful, so magical. The pounding rhythm of gushing water became stronger and stronger.
Then we found it.
The pool was circular, spacious, and a short waterfall cascaded into it, creating pure, white foam. It was incredibly picturesque, emanated peace and tranquillity. Hannah and I turned to stare at one-another, our eyes full of wonder. I felt a grin spread wide across my face. Hannah clutched my hand, motioned forward. We padded slowly toward the edge of the natural spring pool, our feet shod with hesitancy. Pausing at the ridge of the tarn, Hannah and I squatted, stared below into the purest, cleanest water we had ever seen. It was as transparent as glass; flawlessly silky.
Hannah reached forward, dappled the liquid crystal. Gentle ripples glided off, merged into the deeper, central body of water. My eyes rose, followed the swell.
‘It’s a little cool,’ Hannah remarked, the water lapping her slim hand. A wave of goose-pimples shimmied up her arm.
I laughed nervously. No matter how beautiful the pool was, I was still terrified of water. My phobia had seemingly eluded me during my early teenage years, but then had returned with a vengeance when I was humiliated by the NKVD guard.
I curled my knees in toward my chest, and scooped my arms around them. I must’ve looked like a scared child; weak and vulnerable.
I kept a steady distance from the pool’s edge.
Hannah swiped her milky hand from the depths of the water; brushed it against her muddy, dishevelled coat. She sat back, paused, and then said rather abruptly: ‘I’m going to go for a swim. Are you coming?’
In that sudden moment, I felt my muscles go into spasm. Fear enmeshed my entity; paralysed my whole being. A wave of sheer panic surged through my veins, locked my very joints stiff like welded iron.
Flashbacks hurtled savagely through my brain. I shook my head violently.
‘Gretal: what’s wrong?’ Hannah shifted closer toward me, placed her hand gently against my knee.
I prised my clenched muscles apart; attempted to relax. Something snapped within me, and my entire body suddenly loosened. I gulped, tried a weak smile.
My voice quavered. ‘Nothing,’ I said shakily.
Hannah’s lips opened, as if she were about to say something, but then closed. Her expression was grim. I knew that my sibling understood. She got to her feet; began to strip off her clothes.
I watched her, my eyes dripping with envy. My body carried a disgusting odour, and lice were my second creature of company. How I longed to feel the refreshing, cleansing sensation of water!
I saw myself in vivid detail slipping into the lake, my skinny form sinking deeper and deeper; the water cruelly engulfing my being, swallowing me into its depths.
A fierce tingling throbbed at my hands and feet. Numbness seized up my extremities. I shook the disturbing image from my head.
Hannah was Naked. Her skin was pasty, her flesh sallow. Her ribs protruded sickeningly from her chest, the bones of her hips curving as the handle-bars of a bike. Nausea rose in my throat.
She thumped heavily – her whole body clearly aching and exhausted – to the thick mud of the earth, swivelled around, and dangled her stick-like legs in the pool. Hannah slid off the edge, a spray of water showering the dry land.
‘Oh, Gretal!’ Hannah yelled. ‘It’s glorious!’
I didn’t reply.
‘Gretal?’
Hannah pulled herself up onto the ridge on her elbows, her body glistening wet. Her greasy long hair clung to her body, reaching from her scalp to her torso.
‘I’m fine.’ I found myself saying. ‘I’m going back to camp.’
I got to my feet, tears pricking my eyes. Turning on my heel, I paced away.
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