Achtung!
A long queue of people lines up in small groups down one side down of an industrial looking concrete corridor approaching a single steel door which is currently ajar. The air is thick with cold, dust and fear-sweat, as the mostly silent atmosphere is cut by the coughs and sneezes of a thousand malnourished people echoing around on the bare walls.
A group of around three hundred victims are counted off by a uniformed guard to go through the door as further soldiers watch on impassively, machine guns ready in their arms and safety catches off, alert eyes scanning the crowd. This is the time when panic can spread and good bullets be wasted.
The group shuffles forward, understandably there is no sense of hurry in the crowd. Once they are inside, the door is promptly shut, leaving them in a brightly lit, clean room with a drain in the middle and few other features. In turn, they are ordered to strip and allow the guards to remove their possessions. Once nude, the male and female captives all look alike, a small series of numbers tattooed on their fragile looking arms, individual ribs standing out proudly from their feeble chests, legs as thin as saplings somehow supporting even such a meagre weight.
A tall, dark haired man is next to be attended to, hollow, darkened eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles, which glow unnaturally in the glare of the powerful shower room lights. A soldier approaches, then motions downward with his gun and mutters something indistinguishable.
The man slowly begins to unbutton his dirty, worn shirt, looking his tormentor squarely in the face all the time he does so. The guard, perhaps sensing the eyes upon him, raises his gaze to meet the man's. His steely blue eyes appraise his captive and a small smile crosses his lips, before he nods quickly to to himself and opens his mouth to speak.
"Sie können gehen" he barks, indicating with his gun towards the exit door at the far end of the chamber, which seems to shine with yellow light as the strong sunshine burns down on the outside world.
The man hesitates in his confusion. Why has he been singled out? Did he do something wrong?
"Schnell", the soldier is insistent and not a little confused. The words jolt the man into movement, and he bolts from the room to the exercise yard outside.
The guard, face returning to its more customary Teutonic seriousness, moves on to the next prisoner, a young woman, cheeks and eye sockets shrunken to holes, giving her face the appearance of an animated skull.
"Das clothing. Off" the warder says firmly.
The woman glances at the door, now closed by the departing escapee.
"But...vhy?" she breathes.
"Ju shouldst have gone to das Specsavers" the guard murmurs, before removing her glasses and flinging them onto the pile of similar items in the corner of the room.
Myself and SB intend to pitch this idea to the relevant advertising company, we will either become super-millionaires or be chased from the room by attack dogs. Watch this space...
A group of around three hundred victims are counted off by a uniformed guard to go through the door as further soldiers watch on impassively, machine guns ready in their arms and safety catches off, alert eyes scanning the crowd. This is the time when panic can spread and good bullets be wasted.
The group shuffles forward, understandably there is no sense of hurry in the crowd. Once they are inside, the door is promptly shut, leaving them in a brightly lit, clean room with a drain in the middle and few other features. In turn, they are ordered to strip and allow the guards to remove their possessions. Once nude, the male and female captives all look alike, a small series of numbers tattooed on their fragile looking arms, individual ribs standing out proudly from their feeble chests, legs as thin as saplings somehow supporting even such a meagre weight.
A tall, dark haired man is next to be attended to, hollow, darkened eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles, which glow unnaturally in the glare of the powerful shower room lights. A soldier approaches, then motions downward with his gun and mutters something indistinguishable.
The man slowly begins to unbutton his dirty, worn shirt, looking his tormentor squarely in the face all the time he does so. The guard, perhaps sensing the eyes upon him, raises his gaze to meet the man's. His steely blue eyes appraise his captive and a small smile crosses his lips, before he nods quickly to to himself and opens his mouth to speak.
"Sie können gehen" he barks, indicating with his gun towards the exit door at the far end of the chamber, which seems to shine with yellow light as the strong sunshine burns down on the outside world.
The man hesitates in his confusion. Why has he been singled out? Did he do something wrong?
"Schnell", the soldier is insistent and not a little confused. The words jolt the man into movement, and he bolts from the room to the exercise yard outside.
The guard, face returning to its more customary Teutonic seriousness, moves on to the next prisoner, a young woman, cheeks and eye sockets shrunken to holes, giving her face the appearance of an animated skull.
"Das clothing. Off" the warder says firmly.
The woman glances at the door, now closed by the departing escapee.
"But...vhy?" she breathes.
"Ju shouldst have gone to das Specsavers" the guard murmurs, before removing her glasses and flinging them onto the pile of similar items in the corner of the room.
Myself and SB intend to pitch this idea to the relevant advertising company, we will either become super-millionaires or be chased from the room by attack dogs. Watch this space...
posted by Peter O'Phile at
3:43 pm
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