That magic moment

Spill the beans prompt

You're at a yard sale and find a painting of a beautiful woman drinking coffee. You purchase it and take it home with you. As you go to hang it on your wall you notice that there is something underneath the paper at the back. You remove the paper and find an old letter. Write the letter that you found.

That magic moment

Dearest Anna

If you’re reading this, then you’ve found my letter. I knew you would, because you’ve always known me better than anyone besides Yusuf. I hope that you are well and that my children aren’t giving you too much bother.

War is truly upon us now, and word on the street is bad. People are being rounded up and shot for no reason at all. Nobody really knows what’s going on, but the sound of execution is hard to ignore; the air around us vibrates with death, destruction, and the electric smell of gunfire. The Germans are not only targeting Polish Jews; they’re targeting Poles in general, particularly teachers and lecturers—any Poles of intellectual or social standing. Fear is everywhere. People are terrified.

Thank goodness the kids are with you; it was a bold move to send them all the way to England on their own. However, as things stand, I’m so glad that I did what I did. I’m going to ask you how they are, but we both know that no letter will ever reach me now.

Yusuf has been away for months; he’s with the resistance in the forests around Warsaw. Obviously, I don't know where he is; the last letter I received from him was a month ago; he has been injured and is being treated in a field hospital.Every day, I silently pray for his slow recovery so that he does not have to fight.Isn't that a dreadful thought? I’m praying that my Yusuf is hurt; I'm praying that he is sick. At the same time, I pray that he’s not in too much pain.

I’m living in a basement with a Jewish family. The Polish family hiding us is almost as scared as we are. They have been assigned to work in a German labor camp, all of them, including their two young boys. Food is horrendously scarce, but the family living above shares everything they have with us. There’s no way that we can stay here in Poland; we will be discovered and either shot or sent away on one of the many trains that we hear leaving the station daily. God only knows where these trains are taking people, but none of us want to find out, so we’re planning to go over the mountains into Turkey. We’re going to escape, dearest Anna.

I’m taking very few things with me on this foot journey, but I’m taking a painting of myself and hiding photographs and documents behind the frame. I have sealed it in an envelope and marked it with your address. This letter is for you, but everything else is for my children, so that they can remember where they came from, know their history, and know that I love them. If I don’t make it, someone might find the envelope and send it to you once this war is over.

Anna, you know this painting by heart. So much of our youth is in this portrait, in the joint portraits we had done of us as girls. It’s almost impossible to imagine how wonderful our lives were and how naive and full of hope we were. It’s hard to remember our carefree, joyous existence; it brings a lump to my throat. I wish more than anything that I could sit with you for a moment and enjoy a cup of coffee. I can hardly conjure the aroma or taste of coffee; it’s been totally unavailable for months.

I have every faith that if the portrait reaches you, you’ll know that it hides something. Thank you, my dearest sister, for everything you’ve done for me and my children. I love you and hope that we’ll meet again; I hope that we’ll sit and chat the way we used to as young girls, and I hope we’ll share a delicious pot of steaming coffee.


Research on WW2 in Poland

Polish victims
Polish escape routes

Images

Pixabay
Suzy Brooks Unsplash

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