A night In Paris ( Countryhumans)

Upheaval

The joyful laughter of the children was the only sound that resounded in the room, the Soviet had been silent since he had seen the thin figure of the German, dressed in a black uniform with golden on the edges, he was wearing leather boots, his skin was red but paler than he remembered, even the tattoo of his membership in the Hitlerian regime seemed to have melted on his face.

This appearance who seemed to be clean and full of life, was in fact not. When we looked clearly at his whole body we could see a figure more frail than in 44, and if we looked carefully we could notice how hollowed out was his cheeks, but also his blond hair  were disheveled and cut irregularly, some strands seemed scorched, his hair didn't go past the top of his neck. He had the appearance of a corpse that had just been dug up and on which clothes had been thrown hastily to give him the impression of being alive. Like a kind of macabre puppet.This appearance although care concealed a figure more frail than in 44, if we looked closely we could notice deeper cheeks, blond hair that were disheveled and cut irregularly, Some strands looked scorched, and the hair did not go beyond the top of his neck. He had the appearance of a corpse that had just been dug up and on which, clothes had been thrown hastily to give him the impression of being alive. Like some kind of macabre puppet.

Yet against all odds he was now before him in the flesh and bones. A certain anguish seized him, he had to find shelter for the two little girls, so that they would not witness what might happen. His presence was a sign of bad omen.

The two sisters felt that some tension had taken place in the room. The eldest took her sister's chubby little hand and led her into the hallway, to be away from the adult conflict.

  Once the children were out, USSR closed the door, he could finally breathe. His gaze had not left the German, fearing he would  disappear from his field of vision and attack him. Or he was hallucinating. But in that case, America would not have behaved that way. He had to stop thinking about impossible scenarios.

America sat on a dark green armchair, like a spectator he watched the play unfolding before him, the meeting between the two mortal enemies. If it had been a play how he would have named it, perhaps "The Clock of Destiny does not ring twice" it would undoubtedly be a tragedy and in the end the wicked would die miserably, crushed by his sins and having lost everything, those who had previously followed him, turned away from him, even the one he loved, preferred death to his presence and chose to throw herself off a bridge rather than spend another second with him. And in the end the man who laughs at his misfortune is someone who no one expects. What other title and play could he imagine, this confrontation also made him think of a kind of comic play, where no one can die but everyone disappears and comes back at any time of the room, which makes it unstable, created many misunderstandings which makes the spectator laugh a lot. But for the moment, there would be no little knight who would come to hit the Third Reich and the USSR, to save any random princess nor there would be a giant octopus who would come to interrupt this fight of stare, no, for the moment everything was calm, too calm for America, who expected action, shattering revelations, insults between these two enemies.

Perhaps the Soviet Union would manage to scare the German enough to release his secrets. This could only be positive. After all, the German had a hard time fighting that communist dog on the Eastern Front. So many soldiers had died in that war. But, well, it wasn't time for self-pity, no, he wanted to see that fight between those two. He had previously missed it in Berlin, or at least what was left of the city. He remembered the bitter smell of sulfur and death that reigned in the rubble of the German capital, just to think about it made him shudder with pleasure.

For the Soviet, this confrontation could be described as supernatural. And it remained as a huge shock to take. He remembered, however, seeing his corpse in this small bunker on the outskirts of Berlin, exactly three kilometres away in a small wood that had been bombed the day before his arrival. He remembered every step he had taken down to the last basement, where his enemy had taken refuge. They had to carry flashlights to see in the tunnels and it was in the last room, devoid of furniture apart from a table that lay on the ground, that he saw what remained of the terrifying Third Reich, a simple, disarticulated body lying on the floor. His skull had exploded after he shot himself with his gun, the pieces of his brain decorated the grey wall, with a reddish color and some pinkish spots. The bullet had lodged in the ground. It was almost impossible to recognize the awful man, except for certain details that were present on his clothes and on what remained of his body. USSR had even asked one of his forensic doctors, a tall blond, to sew back the dead man. It was a direct order from Stalin. The young doctor had worked with great care to reconstruct the monstruous face, forgetting the traces of his brutal death and making it as if the tyrant had quietly fallen asleep. But if we leaned in, we could see very fine red and golden threads holding the face in place. It was a master's work, even Stalin had been blown away by the young man's expertise, that he wanted to see if he had so much competence to alter the face of a living man, which would be useful to them. But by the time Stalin had tried to force this young man to do this new task, he had already disappeared, some of his comrades had seen him leave very early at dawn, and from the discussions they had had before his departure, the young man's objective was to go to the Balquans, to look for a phoenix. These comrades had laughed at these remarks but the young man was serious. And this had greatly angered his leader, the great Stalin, who caused a fit when he learned the reason for his disappearance, for something so futile and he had demanded that they sent soldiers immediately in pursuit to keep him on Russian territory and that once he was captured, he will be sent to the Gulag for desertion.