Metafiction writing : Kornblume

Before reading: I set Bach’s English Suite No.3 Allemande for background music. Listening to this music while reading help you to understand about my metafiction. Please turn on the volume, and if the music ends before you finish, simply press F5

Kornblume

The train became a scene of agony. Some of us wailed sorrowfully while others already lost their hope and blanked out. I crouched down at the side of the carriage, and looked through my pocket to check want I got. A broken compass, bent metal wire, and an unopened letter. Frankly, I recognized the writer of this letter before opening it. I smelled the familiar scent of her, faintly smiling at her round but somewhat crooked hand writing of my name ‘Carol’. Softly, I spoke “Therese”, to check my own way of pronouncing her name. Then carefully, I opened the letter, and started to feel it.

Dear Carol

This is Therese. Therese from Leipzig, that little town with Kornblume blossoms and Bach’s music. That town where nothing happens, and nothing really changes. I know that you might not remember me.

Before I start off the first sentence, I instantly sensed that the letter was about fond memories between us. Memories of happiness. I thought of ripping off the letter – it’s no use of thinking Theresa in this agonizing train.

I'm on the train to get to the city. I couldn't help myself. I just had to write this letter to you. Out of the window, I see these beautiful butterflies we used to catch up the hills. I smell the breezes that we used to smell lying in the grasses, eating cherries. I can see the memories and the promises we swore to keep. This December, do you remember?

I’m on the train heading for death. I don’t exactly know where I was going, and when I’m going to be killed, but I could tell that by these screams and agonies beside me, I’m going to be killed soon. One girl next to me told me that we are heading for ‘the final solution’. She shouted “THE FINAL SOLUTION! Yeah, we’ll now reach to extermination camp, and as soon as its ready, we’re going to be killed!”. The girl was frantic and people were crying, but I was as calm as a cow being dragged to a slaughterhouse without knowing. I peered outside through a small wooden window. As if the train is not a part of this world, the lands, the breezes, the butterflies were so calm. 

But if I were to tell you one thing about me, something to renew the colors in your memory, we had fond memories here and there. You made me a Kornblume crown, remember? I also loved listening your piano. I liked Bach’s English Suite No.3 Allemande the most. Such a melancholy song.

I met Therese on a hot summer day, when Kornblume, Centorea in English, blossomed beautifully. We both loved that flower. We used to pick up several flowers, put inside the base next to the piano, and enjoyed playing it. I loved to play Bach’s English Suite No.3 Allemande, but I like it because of a different reason. I could hide my feeling of worry and grief inside the music. That is the characteristic of Bach’s music. As if you’re solving a concise math problem, this music is composed with carefully calculated notes. Eventhough it is a same song, impression can vary depending to the player’s mood.

I still remember the dazzling city lights, cars whooshing by, and girls and boys in absolutely stunning dresses and suits walking down the street. And that sound of trumpets rising to a crescendo, and the beats of the drums marching with elegance and gravity as the lights went down- these things I will never forget.

That was the most beautiful, but also the most sorrowful day of my life. Of course I remember- but for another reason. When I went to her house for the first time after the date, I remember her parents saying, “Therese, don’t go around with that Jewish boy. He’s far inferior than you” when I was sitting right next to her. I knew we have to be apart soon, and I had to restrain my emotion toward her. “Sad story, isn’t it?” I murmured.

I thought you were gone that day when you left to the city. You always told me your dream is to live out your fantasy in the city. Bright lights, big city. Your shoulder would become broader; you would get rid of that static boredom stuck in you like a sword from your chest. I cried for weeks when you were gone. Just gone, as soon as the train took off. When words and gossips came to town that you were alive and indeed doing very well out there, I couldn't help it.

By the time, the bus arrived at the extermination camp. When I was stepping down from the bus, I noticed a blue flower at the edge of the camp building. I tried to go closer, but Nazi soldier stopped me from doing so. I was sure that the flower was a Kornblume. It was paler than my memory of Kornblume with Theresa, and it was just a single flower, not a bunch of it. But it was still a Kornblume. My repressed emotions suddenly burst out. Why did I restrain my emotion at that time? I should have told her. That I love her. That I adore her. That I want to be with her every single moment in my life.

 Standing on a firing squad, I saw a Nazi soldier playing a piano. It was Bach’s English Suite No.3 Allemande. It sounded very differently. Maybe the Nazi soldier is also hiding his feeling. While Jews were killed one by one, screaming in agony, Bach’s music was no more than cold indifference and abrupt brusqueness. Piano player’s stone face made him to look as the angel of death. How can a piece of music make one’s heart so devastated…I thought, “If I were to meet Theresa again, I would ...”

Bang. I was bent down on knees. I saw my blood tricking down, toward the Kornblume. Theresa, if we meet again in the heaven, with a bunch of Kornblumes and Bach’s English Suite No.3 Allemande flowing in, I want to tell you. That I loved you.

I'm on the train now, going to you. Please do excuse this long letter. I didn't have the courage to outright ask you, and I've never had a way with words as you do. This is my favor to you. If you do remember me and our beautiful days together, please wait for me with a bouquet full of blue Kornblume.

***



“You are now watching one of the most brutal extermination camp in Nazi era. This extermination camp…”

“Mom, look at that! There’s a small Kornblume at the edge of the building!”

“Where?” said Theresa, holding her daughter’s hands.

“Mom, There’s also a baby Kornblume right next to the first one. It’s brighter in blue! Maybe that baby Kornblume wanted a mommy Kornblume, don’t you think so?”

Right after she saw a pair of Kornblumes, Theresa shed hot tears, but wiped with her handkerchief before someone see it. She sat on the piano next to the firing squad. 

“Sweetheart, let us pray for these innocent souls who were killed brutally.”

And with her gentle and fine hands, she started to play Bach’s English Suite No.3 Allemande.