Layers of an Onion.

Warning

Explicit sexuality

Reference to the Holocaust and German Nationalism.

Feeling slightly dizzy, I was overcome by a sense of confinement as steel doors slammed shut, trapping my consciousness in a narrow and dingy hallway. The restless, tangled, and lost souls around me created a weighted and suffocating atmosphere. My head was pounding; I needed to gain control and focus my eyes to stabilise my wavering reflection in the engraved wall mirror. I took a deep breath, and there, there, my face seemed tired. I thought to myself, "This can't be good. I only had ten minutes!" I grabbed my hair comb, which had nearly fallen out and teased my long fringe. After rolling and positioning my hair above my forehead, I secured it with the same comb. "Hmm, looks better," I thought. 

I noticed my lips needed plumping and colouring. As I stood between the elegant lounge room and the ornate twisted staircase, a sudden recollection struck me - I had hidden a red lipstick and a small cardboard compact of rouge under a tacky, dark green ornament. I reached out and touched the cold surface of the sideboard before delicately digging my fingers under the ornament. To my relief, the items I had recalled were still there, waiting to be rediscovered. 

The hallway mirror reflected a faint image of my loved one taking a record from its paper sleeve. I pinched my cheeks and applied a touch of rouge on each side. The matte lipstick, similar to a crayon, almost bruised my lips. I could hear the gramophone being wound, the turntable in motion, the placed needle scratching and being dragged over intricate tracks to sound out stuttering-

Un- unna- unerneathhhh, health, heath theeee lawn teen, teen teen.

I overheard a deep, soothing male voice utter, "Apologies, my darling, I will strive to do better once more." After a final appraisal in the mirror, I affirmed to myself, "Yes, that will suffice!" Surrendering to my vessel's instincts, I allowed my body to move mechanically. Approaching the doorway to the loungeroom, my eyes instinctively sought the floor, unwilling to meet his gaze. My demeanour conveyed a firm resolve: "I was her."

Underneath the lantern,

By the barrack gate

Darling, I remember

I recognised that song, and I had liked Marlene Dietrich’s haunting English rendition of "Lili Marleen" much, much more than this treasured German Lale Anderson version now playing at a rather loud volume. He browsed my persona and reached out a beckoning hand, “Dance?” His genteel and devotion morphed into a peculiar, electric energy that transferred into my body, causing a sensation of want and alertness.

The way you used to wait

T'was there that you whispered tenderly,

That you loved me,

You'd always be,

My Lilli of the Lamplight,

My own Lilli Marlene. 

He pulled me close and whispered in my ear to speak at the exact time of the song, "My own Lilli Marlene." His scent was that of the earth itself. I could not resist. I slowly waltzed in the rhythm and warmth of his physique. My now flushed cheek nestled against the firm curve of his shoulder, leaving a dark red powder smudge on his starched white shirt. He nestled his neck close to mine, and I absorbed the intoxicating pheromones emanating from that slippery, oiled skin.

The time would come for roll call,

Time for us to part,

Darling, I'd caress you

And press you to my heart,

And there 'neath that far-off lantern light,

I'd hold you tight,

We'd kiss good night,

I felt an overwhelming desire for another child. I couldn't help but touch my stomach in a moment of realisation— that this man had sired four healthy children, and I wanted another. I felt embarrassed; my body wanted him and ached for him. I think my panties have become wet and warm. I exclaimed, a slight American accent along with the song, "My own Lilli Marlene

My Lilli of the Lamplight,

My own Lilli Marlene.

His body jolted like information tried to download but was clogged or stopped. His military training stepped in to survey the glitch. His left eye darted, acting like a camera aperture; the pupil dilated, then honed in on its target. The eye blinked as the images, like snapshots, absorbed into his subconscious, and then unknowingly, he returned to his relaxed husband's consciousness. He admits, "Tonight, you feel like another woman, but I know it’s you," before kissing me. 

I could not indulge myself nor enjoy the luxury of my vessel's sensuality. I knew staying too long would disrupt the algorithm and alter her mitochondria. Her now sleeping physical mind would consciously recall my visit, retain my imprint or implant, or she might experience physical reactions during interrogation and have no consciousness of the new data within herself.  

During their marital rite, the materials from his orgasm cleanse and steer her mind to its normal pathways and homeostasis, and her orgasm transfers data to his cellular waters. His cells remain in that state with new data for more than ten minutes, enough time for a reset.

Orders came for sailing,

Somewhere over there

All confined to barracks

Was it more than I could bear?

I knew you were waiting in the street

I heard your feet,

But could not meet,

My Lilly of the Lamplight,

My own Lilly Marlene.

I had one thing to do before I returned home. While staring into his eye, my wet finger ran over his upper lip and then on his lower lip. Hypnotised, I probe past the eye socket into the mind kaleidoscope of programmes from Germany Nationalism, the Catholic Church, his family and, finally, his natal chart. I whisper, "The eclipse on the morning of July 20th remembers the past, and you must Remember to keep me in you. NOW, Remember who you are!"

Resting in our billets,

Just behind the lines

Even tho' we're parted,

Your lips are close to mine

You wait where that lantern softly gleams,

Your sweet face seems

To haunt my dreams

My Lilly of the Lamplight,

My own Lilly Marlene.

Layers of protection shield my spirit. I return home and rest. I am no longer a human conduit, having the clearance of Seraphim, invading specific World War Two targets for 'Project Noah's Ark'. Some say he wanted to be the Chancellor to a moderate Germany, but when I looked his life was a disguise to hide his true purpose and that was to dampen and demoralise the regime which would ultimately bring about its absolute destruction.