Retold Story - Hugo Mann’s Perfect Soul by R A Salvatore
This is based on a small part of the story Hugo Mann’s Perfect Soul by R A Salvatore. This is my story for my Creative Writing class. Enjoy!
————————————
Arne sat alone in his room at his writing desk. The walls of his room were covered in posters that his father brought home for him. “Hitlerjugend” they read. Hitlerjugend. Hitlerjugend. All over, covered from the floor to the ceiling, Arne’s role model was Adolf Hitler, it was only another couple of years before he could join the HJ and he couldn’t wait.
Tomorrow Adolf Hitler would be driving through Berlin to gain awareness for the speech he was due to perform later in the evening. See that was the good thing about Hitler, he wasn’t scared to show his face. He loved his people and for the most part they loved him, and if they didn’t love him they respected him.
Arne finished his drawing and took it over to a space on the wall and put it up. Taking a step back he appraised his work, he took his favourite elements from the Hitlerjugend posters and created his own.
Arne went back to his desk and started putting away his mess when from downstairs his mother shouted him to come down for the evening meal. Arne wanted to finish tidying the mess away but his mother called him again and reluctantly he went down stairs.
He took his seat at the table, the food smelt so good. Arne enjoyed meal times with his family, he was an only child at the moment, although his mother was pregnant again. Because he was only a child he got a lot of attention which he liked, but he liked his alone time as well, even though he loved his family.
Arne and his family lived in relative luxury, his father was becoming one of the top scientists in the country. The house was quite small, big enough for a three man unit, but it was decorated lushly. Paintings line the walls, decanters full of the finest Italian wine were on proud display. The most expensive of these being an antique silver decanter.
‘How go your studies Arne,’ asked his father.
‘Fine father, my teacher said I was really good at math.’
Arne demonstrated this by saying out loud a complicated sum he had learned today, something way above the standards of a normal 10 year old boy.
‘How are you doing in your other lessons Son?’ asked his mother.
‘Good I think, especially in art.’
Arne got asked this questions at least once a week, he had become bored of answering them recently though because not much had changed, he thought he had learned everything there was to know, and he only paid attention really in math and art because they were his two favourite classes.
Dinner seemed to drag tonight, he just wanted to go to his room and study before going to bed to get sleep before the big day tomorrow, he was just so excited. He excuse himself as quickly as he could and escaped to room where he immediately finished putting his art supplies away and he got out his books to study. He was lost in his books until night time when his mother came and told him gutenacht.
***
Arne woke up very early the next morning, excitement filling him, today he would get to see Adolf Hitler in person for the first time in his life and he could not wait. He sat in his room reading until he heard his mother waking up to start the chores of the day and he went down to breakfast.
‘Hitler will be coming through the city today mother.’
‘Eat your food dear.’
‘There’s going to be a parade before he comes through.’
‘Do you have any clothes in your room that need washing love?’
‘A marching band will go before him signalling his arrival, it will be so fun.’
‘Seriously Arne, your food will go cold.’
‘When can we go down, I don’t want to be stuck at the back of the crowd.’
Arne’s mother sighed, putting down the clothes basket on the table, ‘Arne, you know I hate crowds. It will be shown on the television, I don’t have enough time to take you down and your father will be working until late this evening.’
Arne’s face dropped, he felt like crying, like screaming at his mother. He had been looking forward to this.
‘Well I’ll go on my own then.’
‘No you will not. End of.’
Arne got up and stormed off to his room. He was 10 years old, he wasn’t a säugling anymore. He would go to the parade whether his mother liked it or not. He proceeded to get dressed and picked up his coat and slung it over his arm. Arne’s room looked out over the back garden and he sat on his windowsill keeping watch. After what felt like an infinite amount of time his patience was rewarded, his mother entered the garden to hang the washing out to dry in the cool November air.
Arne left with haste, quiet as a mouse he went down the stairs and when he got to the front door he eased it open and slipped away. As soon as he was free from view of the house his hurried pace turned into a flat out run. He was putting as much distance as possible between himself and his mother so she couldn’t bring him back. After about five minutes he slowed down and eventually stopped and leant against the trunk of the tree in the park he’d ran into. Arne was in pretty good shape but he wasn’t the best runner. Slowly he got his breath back and set off again.
Eventually he gets closer to the city centre, he can hear cheering and noise in the distance but to him it sounds like it’s coming from all sides. Arne had only ever been into the city centre with his mother and he never paid attention to the journey just following his mother, but when he set off he was so sure he knew the way. But he quickly admitted to himself he was lost. He wandered around for at least half an hour and eventually he started to hear the noise of the crowds louder and louder.
His excitement boiled up again and he couldn’t hold on any longer. He started to run again, turning this way and that but somewhere along the way he must have took a wrong turn because the sound of the crowd seemed to grow distant. Worry started to worm its way into Arne’s head, he was completely lost. Not only would he not be able to find his way to the parade now, but he wouldn’t be able to find his way home either. He would be lost forever!
But then in the distance a family of five left there small terraced house a few blocks away, and Arne assume instantly that they would be heading to the parade. They had adults with them, they would surely know the way. He runs after them stepping into the road and nearly gets hit by a truck. The driver leans out and yells something at Arne but he ignores it and carries on running.
‘Excuse me?’ He asked as he caught up with the family.
‘Yes?’ The father of the family replied.
Arne chose to ignore the rudeness of the blunt answer and politely asked, ‘Are you going to the parade?’
‘No we are not. We’re going to a relatives.’
‘Oh.’ Arne looked lost and didn’t know what to say next. The family started to walk again but as they did he burst out with, ‘please you have to help me, I’m lost.’
‘Give the poor lad directions,’ the mother whispered.
The father of the family gave the Arne directions to the parade and it turns out he wasn’t as lost as he thought, just a ten minute walk. As he drew closer to the main street the crowd got louder and louder, he turned the corner into an alleyway and went down the alley and suddenly he was in the midst of the crowd, they seemed to almost spring up out of nowhere. It was positively overwhelming.
Noise surrounded him on all sides, a sea of colours and he was drowning in the depths of peoples pant legs. Everyone was a giant and he was an insignificant child. The suddenness of the people took a while to drain from him but when it finally did he overcame the choking sense of claustrophobia and broke free of the crowd and ended up at the barriers.
Arne climbed up onto the barrier and peered left and right to see what he had missed, to see if he had missed Adolf Hitler, his leader, his idol. At first he couldn’t see past the marching entourage but eventually he saw in the distance a slow moving vehicle. It gradually grew larger and larger until eventually you could start seeing details. The armoured Mercedes glistened in the afternoon sun, clearly having been polished for the ceremony. The huge headlamps protruded from the wheel arches like eyes. It was a magnificent limousine and what interested Arne most was one of its occupants. Adolf Hitler. In the flesh.
Arne had only ever seen the flickering black and white images on the television before, and that grainy picture did nothing to promote the air of power that almost exuded from Adolf. The car drew closer and closer and Arne’s excitement built and built. And then the strangest thing happened.
Hitler’s car was drawing up to Arne’s position and as it came parallel with Arne, Adolf looked out, sweeping the crowd with a wave, and the crowd as one, saluted, arm in the air at an angle. Arne joined in with the salute, but his arm faltered and dropped to his side as he locked eyes with Adolf Hitler.
Something shone deep within Adolf’s eyes. Arne had never noticed it before in any of the images on the posters or on the television set. Hitler’s stare was captivating, and something shone out.
Arne did not know how he knew or what it meant.
Hitler had a perfect soul.
