(death topic)
Blood daisies: The blood still flows, still grows…
Berlin,1945
He sat there, in this abandoned building, merely waiting to die. He felt the enemy close, felt death approaching slowly wanting to consume his last harsh breath. The blackened sky had fallen. In this deserted yet faltering night, all that could be heard was the loud thunder of devastating bombs and the roar of planes soaring above a dying land. Not much was left of his beloved city, Berlin was about to fall. He sat there, staying still, barely breathing and quite oblivious to what surrounded him. He was in his own little world now as his memories had a grip over his thoughts, over his decaying soul. The war had taken its toll over him. He was no longer a man, no longer a SS soldier; he had become a zombie. He could not deny his actions, nor could he forget them as he had stumbled upon the path they had opened for him, and he followed blindly…
Dachau, 1940
The prisoners came in great numbers, most of which were executed. Thousands died in a day either by being asphyxiated, starvation or disease. Within the barracks lied pestilence, disease, etc… as the sanitary measures had been overlooked. Herr Kleist had been charged to survey the crematory centres as well as all classified procedures undertaken within these faculties. One of his main purposes there was to shoot prisoners who wanted to escape. Easy job however his conscience had not been died during his training, and so this made it difficult for him. In time however, he was “promoted” to another job; he had been transferred to the medical faculty where we was charged of documenting all experiments undertaken. This assignment had turned him into the zombie he later became. Horrific experiments, inhumane and of the outmost repulsive taste had been made under his eyes. Patient 29570 left his conscience to burn him alive, left his mind in ashes…
Kleist was the one who brought the young woman to the medical faculty, to be experimented on, mainly for productivity tests and effect of drugs on a first stage fœtus. The patient was brought to the faculty, stripped of what was left of her clothing, disinfected and then laid and strapped down on a medical table. Herr Kleist remembered every detail of the procedures undertaken. They first proceeded to inject the female subject with great amounts of chlorexidine to see if it could be use for abortion. After a few hours, the fœtus had not come out, yet the woman had had a few seizures and had been vomiting. They decided to use another form of abortion which they had created which consisted of a long metal rod, curved at the end with a few more hooks attached at the end. They inserted the woman with this rod, rambled about and pulled out the uterus, intact with the fœtus inside. No anaesthetics had been used and the woman’s screams had, until his death, haunted the soldier. The echo of her lament burnt into his skull like a bad dream. The subject was still alive, scientists decided to ease their burning curiosity. They decided to test the subject by putting large amounts of O2 in her blood and seeing de origins of the gas embolus in the brain. After she had died of this O2 intoxication, they autopsied her brain, and, as any other of their experiments, found no results.
This was one of the events that had left the SS Soldier Kleist broken. Over a period of 3 years or so countless experiments had been done and classified , most came with no conclusions….
Berlin, 1945
Debris were falling on him, soldiers came dying beside him yet he felt, saw nor heard any of this. All that he could see was the darkened look upon a woman’s face, lying down on a medical stretcher, her brain uncovered, blood still running through her thighs… Blunt eyes, expression of pain in her eyes and the illusion of her whispering: “you saw it all, you’re next” coming from her cracked lips. The screams still haunted him, they were killing what was left of his soul. The memories were all that he had left, memories that he did not desire to possess. Coming out of his daze, he stood up, took off his helmet, his gear and slowly started walking through the ruins of Berlin, walking under explosions, bombings, gun shots and beside dying souls. He walked with an empty glare, knowing where to head. A scream coming from the depths of his conscience soared over everything: over the corpses, the blood, the pain, the agony, the bombs, guns, tanks, places, beyond it all. Into this clearing he headed, and then there was, for a slight moment silence. Screaming, he made a few violent steps into the clearing, one last move…onto a blood daisy. The scream met the vicious sound of the mine he had stepped on; nothing but remnants of his body was left. Victim of a blood daisy, or victim of his own conscience, whichever…they both lead to the same end…