A Glitch in Time

The rain ticked softly against the slate roof tiles, giving the old, dusty attic a cosy feeling. Behind a neatly organised stack of cardboard boxes, Harry sat on his knees and rummaged through one of the last boxes he still had to sort.

  He had moved into his new house in Verviers, Belgium, only a fortnight ago and he had finally found some time to clear out the attic that still held several boxes left by the previous owner. According to his new neighbours, the old man had served in the resistance during the Second World War. Harry hoped to find some trinkets from that time which might fetch a nice price. Unfortunately, so far the contents had turned out to be completely useless; there’d been a lot of crumpled old newsletters, a broken watch and some tattered hats and other clothing.

  With a sigh Harry closed the box and put it with the others he’d gone through. Without much hope he sat down in front of the next box, stirring up some dust that settled on his old jeans. When he opened the box his heart sank; more clothes. He ran a hand through his brown hair. I’d better give them to charity, he thought with a wry smile.

  He quickly looked through the stuff inside the box and was about to close it when his eyes caught sight of a tan-coloured suit jacket. Harry swiftly scooped it from the box to take a good look at it. The coat had wide padded shoulders and peak lapels. It looked like the kind of jacket you’d see in old films from the 30s or 40s. Harry whistled through his teeth. It was still in mint condition. This might be worth something, he reckoned. He put the jacket on and smiled. A perfect fit.

  There was something in his left pocket, he felt as he smoothened the jacket. He took out a yellow piece of cloth with a black letter ‘J’ in the middle. It was one of those stars they’d given to the Jewish people during the war. What were they called again, Stars of David? Harry frowned, had the previous owner been a Jewish resistance member or had it belonged to someone else? Perhaps this would fetch a nice price as well. He neatly folded the Star of David and put it back inside his pocket.

  After going through the final box – and finding nothing useful – Harry went downstairs, still wearing the old suit jacket as he climbed down the ladder to the first floor. The steps were smoother than he’d anticipated, though, and about half way down the ladder his foot gave way causing him to fall down on his back. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the floor, followed by the bang of his head on the cold floor. Rendered unconscious, he spent several minutes laying lifeless on the ground until he became aware of an unintelligible noise in the far distance.

  The noise became louder and louder, was it coming closer? Harry was faintly aware of raindrops falling down on his face; was there a leak in the roof? He opened his eyes and needed a moment to realise there was no roof at all! He stared into the clouded sky above, thick raindrops splattering in his eyes. How’d he get on the street? Thankfully, there wasn’t any traffic around or he might’ve ended up worse.

  Harry quickly got up, the tan jacket sticking against his body, drenched and muddy. He looked around for somewhere to hide from the rain. He was certain there was a bus stop nearby, now where could it be? He pulled the jacket up to his chin to try to keep himself from catching a cold, although he wondered if it would make any difference as he was already soaked to the bone.

  In the meantime the noise – which Harry now recognised as a man shouting – had come closer. He could hardly make out the words, it definitely didn’t sound like French. Was it…German? Verviers was close to the German border, so Harry supposed it wasn’t too strange to hear the foreign tongue. Perhaps it was a merchant trying to sell his wares?

  In any case, he was happy to hear other people; the usually busy street was completely deserted which made him feel a bit uneasy. Harry followed the shouting man’s voice, hoping the man could explain what was going on.

  Harry turned around the corner and gasped. It took him a moment to take in what he saw; there were a handful of people dressed up as Nazi soldiers from the Second World War, recognisable by the black swastikas pinned on their upper arms. In front of them stood a line of people, listening to orders that the Nazis shouted at them. Juden, Harry heard the now-familiar male voice shout. Jews.

  At first, Harry thought it was a show. Perhaps a re-enactment of one of those Jew roundups he’d learned about as a child. However, there was no audience. In fact, there was not another living soul to be found along the street. A chill crept up Harry’s spine as he started to realise something. No, it can’t be…

  Then a young man that was lined up made a run for it. One of the soldiers took his time grabbing his gun and leisurely shot the man in the back. He never had a chance.

  Harry’s face turned pale as a snowflake as he watched the scene unravel in front of his eyes. This couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t be.

  He had to move, but his feet seemed frozen to the ground. The Nazi closest to Harry caught sight of him.

  “Stop!” the Nazi shouted in German. “Stehen bleiben!”

  A jolt of adrenaline shot through Harry’s body and without hesitation he turned back around the corner from whence he came, crossing to the opposite end of the street at lightning speed. He’d never been a sprinter, but that didn’t seem to matter when running for one’s life. He could still hear footsteps behind him though, and they were gaining on him.

  Harry turned another corner and was suddenly grabbed from the side. Someone had taken his arm and pressed a hand against his mouth.

  “Shh!” The owner of the hands hissed in his ears. Harry had no choice but to comply. They were hiding inside a bush in someone’s garden, hopefully invisible to the Nazi that just came around the corner.

  The soldier ran a few paces before he realised he’d lost track of his pursuant. He narrowed his eyes, but the rain and gloomy weather inhibited his line of sight. He walked around for a bit, checking behind every car that was parked in the street and even looked inside some of the windows, but he left the bush alone. Eventually, he turned back around the corner.

  Harry and his anonymous hero stayed hidden inside the bush for several minutes more before moving. Harry stretched his after leaving the uncomfortable position

  “Quickly, follow me,” the man told Harry in fluent French. They hurried through the streets, some of which Harry recognised from his own time although they looked slightly different now. He found it hard to believe he had actually gone back in time. How could something like that happen?

  Harry tried to strike a conversation with the man on several occasions, but each time the man shushed him, looking over his shoulder to see if they weren’t being followed. It was dangerous to talk, the quieter they were the better.

  Eventually, Harry and the man stood in front of a red door in what seemed to be the shabbier part of town. An old woman opened the front door and nodded to Harry’s rescuer. The man curtly nodded back and then left. They’d both not uttered a single syllable.

  The woman motioned him to come inside. Harry felt queasy inside his stomach. What had he gotten himself into?

  “Call me Ethel,” the old woman said. “You’re safe here.”

  “Safe? From what? Why were those Nazis coming after me?” Harry demanded with a trembling voice, whether from fear or indignation he didn’t know.

  The woman widened her eyes. “You’re not from here, I can tell by your accent. Yet you wear that.” She pointed a shaky finger at his chest. Harry looked down and gasped. The yellow Star of David was sewn onto his vintage tan jacket. He was sure he’d put it in his pocket!

  Harry fell down in a chair, his brow furrowed and eyes staring into the distance, trying to make sense of it all. Ethel brought him some weak tea and tasteless oatmeal cookies.

  “The rations are in very short supply,” she explained as she saw Harry’s expression after his first bite.

  Harry nodded. Rations, Nazis, roundups. It all seemed surreal. Yet the gunshot still echoed in his head. The vision of the man falling down while running towards his freedom. Hiding in the bushes from a soldier. It had all felt very real.

  Harry’s knuckles turned white upon grabbing his tea cup. What was he to do?. He knew a thing or two about the Second World War. It was dangerous if people thought you were a Jew. If you couldn’t identify yourself, the worst was assumed. Star or no Star.

  “You need to hide,” Ethel continued, ripping Harry free from his thoughts. “Quick, under the floorboards.”

  She pulled up one of the wooden floorboards. The opening was barely wide enough for Harry to squeeze through, but with a bit of push and pull he managed eventually. He could see the living room through the cracks. Ethel pushed a heavy armchair over the loose floorboard, hiding it from sight. She then went on to wash the tea cup and dish Harry had just used.

  The dark and quiet made Harry realise how tired he was. He felt his eyelids slowly closing until he woke with a start from loud banging on the front door. His short-lived feeling of ease was quickly substituted by feelings of dread. Had he been followed after all?

  Ethel walked up to the front door, grumbling that there was no need to be so loud. The creaky door opened and three men in Nazi uniform brusquely entered the living room. Harry couldn’t understand any of the German they spoke, but it was clear the men were looking for something. They opened every cupboard, looked inside every room and even looked under the rug hoping to find a hidden trap door. Harry held his breath and made himself as small as possible.

  The leader of the three Nazis curled his lip when his search turned out fruitless. He cast one last glance around the room before gesturing to the other two that it was time to go. Ethel closed the door behind the men and made a cross in front of her chest. Even Harry felt the urge to do so.

  He had to get out of here. He felt like a sitting duck. But what was he to do? Where could he go? And one question was still left unanswered; how’d he get here?

  Straining his thoughts, he tried to remember what had happened before he’d woken up on the street. Ethel had gone to bed and the house was quiet, apart from the ticking of the rain on the roof and windows.

  The rain… something in the back of his mind was triggered, but the memory was too far off to make sense of it. Lost in thought he fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming about running away and people being shot.

  When Harry woke up the next morning it was still dark. At first, he didn’t know where he was. He thought he’d woken up in his own home, in his own time. Only then he realised where he truly was. A shiver went through his spine. He hadn’t awoken from this nightmare, for some reason he was still here. As he pushed himself to sit straight, he became aware of the aches in his body. Sleeping on the cold earth underneath the floor panes had not been a pleasant experience. His head also felt sore.

  How can the back of my head hurt when I always sleep on my side? Harry thought with a frown. Then he remembered; the slippery attic ladder and the bang of his head on the floor. That’s what happened! But how did it send him through time?!

  He had to go back to the house. Perhaps if he fell down the ladder again everything would go back to normal. Harry softly called Ethel’s name, afraid to be heard by neighbours or passers-by. Unfortunately, old Ethel’s hearing wasn’t very good so he had to wait another hour or so for her to get up.

  “Ethel! I need to get out. I need to leave!” Harry called the moment Ethel entered the living room.

  “Yes, yes. They’ll be here soon. They’ll take you someplace safe,” she replied calmly.

  “No, you don’t understand. I can’t go with them. I need to go alone.”

  “You’re a crazy foreigner. You’ll get caught.”

  Harry couldn’t deny there was truth in Ethel’s words. He could get caught. Yet he had no choice; he had to try to get back to his own time.

  “Please, let me go. There’s still something I need to do here,” he pleaded.

  Ethel took a few moments before she pushed the armchair away and opened the floor.

  “Alright, but if they catch you it’s your own fault. And you don’t know me.”

  Harry nodded and stiffly climbed out from under the floor. After a quick breakfast and last visit to the toilet he left the house. The rain had stopped so he put the jacket underneath his arm to hide the yellow star. Without making eye contact with anyone he made his way towards the city centre.

  When he was only a few blocks away someone shouted at him from behind. Without looking up, Harry kept walking at the same pace, hoping the man would leave him alone. Unfortunately, the man shouted again at him. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the man pointing at him while talking to a constable.

  “You there, stop!” The constable shouted. Harry didn’t know whether to run or to wait what the man had to say. He decided to wait. This was a Belgian constable, not a Nazi. Perhaps the man had mistaken him for someone else and it was all just a misunderstanding.

  When the constable reached Harry he asked him to show some identification. Harry realised he’d made a mistake. He pretended to search for his ID inside his pocket. The constable never saw the fist coming.

  Harry didn’t waste time and made a run for it, closely followed by a red-faced constable. Again, adrenalin rushed through Harry’s body as he flew through the streets. He’d never hit anyone in his life.

  He was only a corner or two removed from his house when he noticed four Nazi soldiers driving a car in his direction. Harry stopped in his tracks, but he was too late. The Nazis had noticed him already. The constable was closing in on him from the other side. Harry’s heart beat in his throat. It was over.

  Or not, he thought as he saw an alleyway on the opposite side of the street. Like an Olympic runner he crossed the street and dashed into the alley. His relief was short-lived as he saw it was a dead end. A dumpster stood at the end against a wall, so he climbed on top of it. Behind it there was a walled garden with no way out. Harry noticed a ladder next to him, which hung from the roof.  Here goes nothing, Harry mumbled to himself as he climbed the ladder.

  The Nazis had gained on Harry and were now pointing their guns at his back. One of them fired and hit Harry in the back. He felt the blood drain from his head and unwillingly released his grip on the ladder, falling backwards onto the dumpster. His last breath was forcefully knocked out of him before he hit his head. He closed his eyes; it was over.

A jolt of pain shot through his head, caused by the bright sun light as he opened his eyes. He quickly shut his eyes again and moved onto his side, away from the light. Pushing himself up into a sitting position he felt his head throb and his back hurt. Slowly he opened his eyes again. Once they’d adjusted to the light it took a moment before he realized what he was looking at. With a smile he pushed himself onto his feet, holding the attic ladder in both hands.

  He was back inside the house. Back in his own time, too, he realised looking at the familiar striped bedsheets as he glanced into the bedroom. It had all just been a terrible dream. He shook his head and smiled before going downstairs for a well-deserved cup of coffee.

  He didn’t notice the yellow Star of David that was sewn on the breast of his old jacket.