A night In Paris ( Countryhumans)

We remember the past seasons, full of happy memories

1

Inside the small living room, the atmosphere was made joyful due of the presence of the two daughters of France, who were having fun with their new playmate, a small red cocker spaniel. The animal was running after the aluminum balls that they threw away, due of the lack of a real toy. Faithfully returning the little balls in the chubby hands of the children. This innocent game scene, however, was watched with great attention by the Third Reich, which always distrusted dogs next to young children, their behavior could become unpredictable.How many times had he seen passed in the German press, small articles deploring unfortunate accidents, of these fatal attacks due to poorly trained dogs? It made him very angry that innocent little Germans would die so brutally. Furious, he was looking for a culprit. Who could be the owner of all these dogs? Only one category of the population could be guilty, these damned Gypsies! Traveling all over Europe with their rabies and flea-bearing animals. It would not have surprised him if they brought plague and cholera in their luggage. Or worse the typhus! Yet this cocker  spaniel seemed well trained, earlier in the woods he had tested it by throwing away sticks. The beast had reacted positively, looking for them happily. BUT, he would have had to be crazy to let him play with children without being there. If USSR wasn't so careless he wouldn't have to do that.

The cocker spaniel approached a few millimeters from Russia face, its fangs shone under the light of the wall lamp. The Third Reich jump from his seat, startling the animal, which left in the direction of the eldest of the two children. No one noticed this gesture, America was far too busy rummaging through the drawers of the living-room and storing his finds in the pockets of his jacket, while Oliver read a book The Lurker at the Threshold, while Quebec was at that time on the couch, her back turned away from the scene.

This scene, as small as it may seem, brought out a memory to the German:

 My house... Her... my wife waiting for me on the threshold, with our two children. One is in her arms, our daughter or our son? Everything is blurred, I cannot see them correctly. Don't disappear! Please! Where am I now?! A torn tapestry on the left wall, traces of color pencils on the other walls. This drawing it's the one my daughter did when she was two years old. A moment of distraction and she makes us a work of art on the wall. I hope she was able to continue doing art after the war... Here she is. She is so cute hanging on her mother's petticoat. What is she afraid of? Don't cry, darling. Daddy's here! No, no, I remember I just had a drink with my brother Weimar. I felt so bad. There was something in my glass. I remembered the screams. Weimar's dog, a big white animal. And my wife screaming to call for help, as she held our daughter's face in her arms, her little white face was bloody. This filthy beast had attacked her. And this idiot of Weimar, was laughing at my daughter's pain. As if he liked to see her suffer. I'll make him pay.

You are no longer at that time. This fatso of Weimar is dead, as well of his dog that you gave to the crocodiles at the Berlin Zoo. Your kids are alive and safe, she had only stitches and a big scar that she hides under her hair. Think about something else. Focus on the filthy tapestry from United-Kingdom living-room.

Yet everything reminds him of this lost time, this warm little living-room, he had a similar one, certainly less large but better decorated after all it was his Darling who was then responsible for the decoration. Knowing, where to put each small object, each picture frame, each trinket brought back from one of their rare stays abroad. Storing them on their few furniture, modest but solid. After all, money was scarce, they could not afford to use it for everything and anything. Only the bare minimum but sometimes they enjoyed it when the money was there. At that time, he went to work early in the morning to return late in the evening, missing the small pleasures of everyday life, the childish fights of his young children and especially her smile. When she watched them play, that was her most beautiful smile, her face often turned on his side, her beautiful emerald green eyes looking at him lovingly, her smile still on her lips, she uttered in her melodious voice: