Jagodowa Czerwień

TW: Blood

September 1st, 1939

Zbąszynek, Poland

Even on a day when war loomed on the horizon, all I could think about were raspberries.

Morning sunlight filtered through the partially open window of the kitchen as I leaned against the table, rocking on my heels and watching the cellar door. The house was quiet except for the noise of Ciocia Joasia rummaging through the stuff in the cellar and the isolated song of a bird in the beech tree outside.

“Here it is!” Ciocia Joasia exclaimed from inside the cellar before closing the door and bounding up the steps into the kitchen, a basket in hand. Piernik, Ciocia Joasia’s cat, skittered up the stairs behind her and wrapped around her legs. She pushed a strand of brown hair from her face, eyes bright as she handed me the basket. “I’ll stay here and prepare the stuff for the jam. Can you go pick the berries on your own?”

I nodded, receiving the basket and smiling back at her. “How many should I pick? The same as last time?”

“As many as you can. Just watch for bees inside the berries; you don’t want to get stung again.” Ciocia Joasia moved around the table and slipped on the lacy apron that had been sitting on top of it. Piernik left her side and came to sit on my foot, brushing his cinnamon brown tail over the tile and gazing up at me.

“Move, you pijawka,” I teased affectionately and wiggled my foot. He repositioned himself so he was sitting on the floor instead and meowed at me.

Fetching a pot from the cupboard, Ciocia Joasia glanced over at me. “Are you sure you have everything packed to go? Your parents will probably be here in an hour or two.”

Nodding again, I looked down at my small briefcase, sitting against the leg of the table. “I think so. I made sure I left nothing behind. Are… are you sure you’re not coming with us?”

My aunt set the pot on the stove and fetched a ladle from the drawer, silent for a moment before she turned to face me. Her lively expression had faded to a grim smile. “I’m sure, Jagoda. I know how close the town is to the border, but I just can’t bear to leave this place. And what about Piernik? He can’t evacuate inland with me.”

“But what if the Germans get this far across the border?”

“Hush. Our soldiers will surely hold them back. You have nothing to worry about.” Ciocia Joasia smiled encouragingly at me, but I noticed the pretense. “We don’t have all afternoon to make that jam. Go on, now, and be quick.”

Staring at her, I hesitated, trying my best to believe her words. When I finally turned around, Piernik stood to his paws.

“Come, kicia,” I encouraged quietly and strode out the kitchen doorway. Piernik trotted to my side, tail brushing the back of my leg.

Once out of Ciocia Joasia’s sight, I scowled faintly, my grip tightening on the handle of the woven basket. No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t believe Zbąszynek would be safe from the Germans. The peaceful village was way too close to the German border for that to be possible.

We turned right, passing through the small sitting room. The perfect late summer air and light breeze that combed through the trees welcomed us when I opened the front door. I paused to shut it behind us, then bounced off the faint dirt path connecting the door to the road, rounding the corner of the brick house as the breeze played with my hair. A few feet from the wall of the house, nestled up against the fence, were several plentiful raspberry bushes shadowed by the small beech tree. The lonely bird was still singing as loudly as it had been when I was in the kitchen.

I slowed beside the first bush. The cool shade and the wind at the same time made me shiver faintly. Piernik splayed himself out on the ground by my shoes, lounging comfortably in the grass and purring.

I crouched and rubbed the top of his head before focusing on the berries. Most of them seemed perfectly ripe, a bright red as they dangled from the branches in small bunches.

Gently, I grabbed one with two fingers, attempting to pull it off. It detached but squished under the force of my fingers. I tossed the too-ripe berry onto the ground, which landed at Piernik’s paws, then began filling the basket.

As I worked, the sounds of Ciocia Joasia in the kitchen drifted through the open window behind me. I thought about the evacuation. My parents were picking me up so we could flee inland, but my stay at Ciocia Joasia’s house for the summer was nearly over, anyway. I was excited to see other parts of Poland–though it was under unfortunate circumstances–and my fingers were tingling with anticipation for my parents to arrive.

But leaving my aunt behind crushed most of my exhilaration. Why couldn’t she see it was unsafe to stay? Only being several kilometers from the border, it was inevitable that the Germans would advance far enough to reach the town. Mama would be devastated to learn that she wasn’t coming with us.

With a groan of frustration, I squished another overly-ripe raspberry and chucked it across the grass. Piernik scurried after it, only to abandon it and come back to lie on the grass next to me.

I checked the inside of a large raspberry in case of bees before popping it into my mouth. Biting down, the sweet juice filled my mouth and momentarily distracted me from how upset I was about Ciocia Joasia’s decision. I plucked another one, flicked an ant off, and held it out to Piernik. “Want one, little pijawka?”

His nose twitched as he sniffed it before looking away disdainfully.

I ate it for him and checked the little basket in my other hand. It was only a quarter full. I should probably work faster.

I reached out my hand to grab a cluster on the side of the bush when I heard a distant drone, pausing as I listened.

It couldn’t be a car or a wagon, and it definitely wasn’t a train. Maybe they were Polish planes headed for the border–I’d never seen one of them before.

My heart leaped in excitement. I jumped to my feet, moving left so I could see around the beech tree. Piernik, looking a bit startled by my sudden movement, leaped over to join me, though he paid little attention to the sky.

Three small shapes flew surprisingly low in the distance, their silhouettes instantly recognizable. I watched curiously and squinted to see the planes better. Gradually, they began to spread apart, but the lead continued in our direction, flying even lower than it had before. Alarmingly lower.

It dived even further, and the hum of the plane quickly escalated to the ear-splitting scream of a siren. The ground shook and the kitchen window rattled. I went rigid when I noticed the symbol on the tail, the detail horrifyingly clear.

A swastika.

My heart stopped. My feet anchored to the grass.

And then something dropped from its belly.

The ground rocked violently underneath me when something exploded down the street, sending me stumbling for a split moment. It didn’t allow me time to react before the shockwave slammed me off my feet and into the wall of the house. My head smashed into the brick. The kitchen window pane shattered above me.

For a moment, everything went black.

The world around me returned in pieces. My ears screamed just as deafeningly as the plane had. There was a smarting in my lower arm. My eyes peeled open reluctantly, and yet I could distinguish nothing around me, like I was looking through smudged glass. The blur of my vision gradually receded, but the corners remained black, as if the world were a vignette painting. The ringing in my ears faded to reveal no sound at all.

My vision eventually cleared enough that I realized I was lying on my side, the raspberry bushes a few feet in front of me. I weakly propped myself up with one arm and let out a grunt of pain, feeling something squishy underneath me. A hand went to my side.

Wet. Sticky.

My gaze darted downwards.

Berry red.

I let out a slow breath, catching the woven basket lying next to me. Its spilled contents scattered the ground in a mushy mess, raspberry juice staining my side a bright red.

Then I noticed the darker red mingled in and smeared across my lower arm. The morning light glinted on a tiny, twisted piece of metal in my skin.

A fresh wave of pain bloomed in my arm. My breathing became heavy and ragged. I forced myself to sit up, even when it felt like my head was going to explode like the house down the street.

It struck me that I was covered in dirt and a thin layer of dust. Roof tiles and brick scattered the once tidy front yard. I stared at it all, my mind still a tangled mess as I processed what lay before me.

Steadily, my hearing was coming back. Muffled booms and the faint scream of the bomber planes all struggled to filter into my ears.

No sounds of kitchenware from the window. No birdsong. No purring at my feet.

Ciocia. Piernik.

As if my thoughts had summoned him, Piernik appeared in the corner of my vision, limping as he struggled to get under the raspberry bushes.

Someone coughed around the corner. “Jagoda!”

My heart skipped a beat. I tried to yell out an answer, but my response came out weakly. “Ciocia?”

Ciocia Joasia staggered around the corner, supporting herself with a hand against the wall. Blood trickled down her temple, dust frosting her hair and shoulders. Her face paled when she saw me, and she stumbled over. “O jejku… How badly are you hurt? Please tell me that’s mostly berry juice,” she said, tone desperate as she stared down at my red side.

“Mostly berries,” I answered quietly, my voice raspy, and held out my injured arm. “My head hurts, too. And my shoulder.”

Ciocia Joasia got on her knees and cradled my lower arm in one hand, grimacing as she studied the shrapnel wound. “It doesn’t seem too bad, thank the Lord, but it could get infected, especially if we don’t get that piece of shrapnel out.” She glanced at the sky. “The planes could come back. We need to move you away from the house in case it gets hit again.”

“...Again? It’s been damaged?”

“Only partially,” Ciocia Joasia assured me, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me to my feet. I leaned against her heavily as my vision wobbled and an acute ache started in my head again, worse than before. Ciocia Joasia glanced over the wrecked yard. “It’s just the other side, but it’s nothing to worry about right now. Where’s Piernik?”

I gestured with my head towards the berry bushes. “He ran under there. I think he was limping.”

We moved slowly towards the road, staying in the shadow of the beech trees. I glanced back at the house–the corner had caved in, far enough from the kitchen and front door for Ciocia Joasia to get out.

“Poor kicia,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Maybe you were right, you know. I should have decided to evacuate inland with you. I fear it’s too late for that now, though.”

They probably shelled the train station. The realization made my stomach spin. How would my parents reach us, if at all?

I took a slow breath as we maneuvered around debris and looked down at my side, still sticky with red juice. Even through the scent of smoke, dust, and blood, I could still smell the sweetness of the raspberry pulp clinging to my dress.

Everything had happened so fast. One moment, I’d been offering Piernik a raspberry. Ciocia was working in the kitchen. We were going to make jam.

And less than a minute later, everything had come crumbling down.

Even though war had shattered the town, all I could think about were raspberries.

I would never see that berry red the same way again.