The Election

I really thought they cared about us. I thought above all else life was thee most essential factor. From my point of view, it was and still is. I guess that’s where I went wrong. Right before the whole world turned upside down, I responded to a letter from a friend. She was trying to understand how the other side got it so wrong. She said, “I am tired of trying to figure out these idiots. I’m joining the movement. John’s dead. There is no reason to stay here.” It was weird reading this because out of all my friends, she was the most levelheaded. I wrote back urging her to stay with her parents. I also said, “Everyone has their own perception about everything. Two people hear the same information and will have two different opinions. Just don’t give up. I believe everything will turn out fine.” Looking back, I understand how ignorant and naive those words were.

 I remember the day I recognized how bad off we really were. Previous months were filled with mail and brochures about the upcoming election. Both campaigns seemed unusually aggressive. Mom said it was like no pre-election she had ever seen. She continued saying over and over she couldn’t stand the lying anymore. That day Mom needed potatoes and I needed a walk to get away from the barrage of election information. As I put my boots and coat on, she reminded me to avoid rioters. She told me for the millionth time, if someone comes at me to hurt me just run, or scream. I didn’t tell her, but part of me wanted to join them. I was afraid, but my young mind did not quite yet comprehend consequences.

As I made my way down the street to the market people passed me by, heads down. The sun was out. It was the first time in weeks. Smoke from endless fires blocked the sky, but not today. Today I could see the mountains. I thought this day would defiantly improve the general mood. To my dismay no one smiled. It was hard to recognize a smile under the masks we all wore, but I could see their eyes. I looked for the twinkle, the glimmer of glee. Blank stares caught my gaze. I reached the market, surprised at all the customers going in and out. I stood in line then slowly got through the door. Everyone went about their business, buying supplies, ensuring their families were well equipped for anything that happened. Everyone tried to stay away from one another, but there were so many people it was tough. Tension was thick. God forbid you mistakenly cut in line. It was like the entire facility was filled with a toxic gas, covering your body, filling your pours, and waiting for someone to light a match.

           Above the crowd chatter someone yelled out in the back for everyone to be quiet. I could hear the announcers voice squawking from the radio. The election results were in, and we won! Half the crowd cheered. The other half didn’t. Through the masks their eyes said it all. A young man next to me yelled and started jumping around, laughing. His arm almost hit my face. The crowd and I moved back giving him room as he flailed about. Three other people joined him. “We won, we won we won, it’s over!!” They continued for the next minute or so. I began to feel uncomfortable. My heart beat faster. My breath grew shallow. Black dots appeared before my eyes. Suddenly, a large man with a stone face dressed in blue jeans and a thick red, wool shirt grabbed the young man by the collar. The giant man picked him up and tossed him into the crowd on the far side of the room.

Everyone stopped. Time slowed down.

I glanced at all their faces. Their eyes were wide, and brows lowered. Some showed panic, but mostly anger. That young man lit the match and I was right in the middle of it.

I ducked down. Men and women of all ages started swinging. I spotted a little old lady in the corner. She grabbed a broom handle and used that Louisville slugger over a man’s back. My knees felt weak. I knew if I passed out here, I would be trampled or possibly killed. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my way through the brawling crowd above me. A tooth bounced by me on the wood floor. Several other people, including myself made our way to the front door causing a jam. Two windows aside the entry door shattered as a chair and people were thrown through them. The jam burst and the crowd spilled out into the street. I scrambled to my feet moving out of the way and was handed a sign on a pole. The crowd was on me again and pushed me into the street. I felt like I was in the ocean as the current pulled me further out to sea. A blond, older woman looked at me, looked up at my sign and smiled behind her mask. She took my hand and lead me down the congested street chanting. Smoke once again filled the street. I was turned around and wasn’t sure which way I was headed. All I knew was I wanted to go home. I thought I wanted to be a part of this, but all I found was chaos and confusion.

           In the distance I heard sirens. “Oh, thank God, the police.” I jumped, trying to catch a glimpse of them over the crowd. A short, stocky man next to me pulled a bottle out of the black bag he was carrying around his neck. He took his mask off and smiled at me. “You better run lil’ missy.” He said and lit the rag hanging out of the bottle. He threw it as hard as he could through a shoe storefront window. A yellow star painted on the door. I tried to run, but people blocked my path. The store inside exploded shooting balls of fire and footwear into the packed crowd. I felt the force of the blast and the heat on my face, knocking me to the ground again. The smell of burning flesh filled my nose. My hearing was gone, just a high-pitched buzz remained. About twenty people lay on the street beside me. I glanced to my right and saw a gun laying four feet away. I wanted to pick it up and use it to get the hell out of here. I was still holding on to that stupid sign in my right hand. Before I could get the gun a woman with black hair grabbed it. She wore no mask. Her features were striking. Broad forehead, long nose, full lips, and beautiful black hair done up in a bun to the back of her head. At this point, the police were coming closer toward the storefront where I lay.

Again, time slowed. 

The woman looked down at me, her brown eyes wide. I could see in them something was going to happen, something terrible. She looked back at the police and began firing the gun. Immediately they fired back, hitting her in the chest and forehead. She fell hard. Gravel dug into the side of her cheek. There was no twinkle, no glimmer in her eye. A stream of blood ran down her long nose, over full lips. A group of individuals with similar characteristics as the black-haired woman rushed the police. In a sweeping motion the police opened fired. One by one the people fell.

I jumped quickly to my feet and ran. Using the sign as a weapon, anyone who got in my way was hit or physically moved aside. I ran fast. I felt tears streaking down my neck, unaware I was crying. I saw my house. I dashed through the front door to the kitchen and yelled for my mother, but she never came. I wondered if she went looking for me. My heart beat faster. Black spots cluttered my view. I sat down at the kitchen table, placing the sign on the flat surface finally looking at it. The sign read, “Die Juden sind unser Unglück!  The Jews are our misfortune.