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    quokka
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

David F - 4. DF Chapter 4

Shortly after my twelfth birthday, I was quietly informed by Johannes that the Security guard wanted to talk to me in his office. Once there, I was given a sealed envelope, told not to open it until I was safely in Denmark, Northern Europe.

With the assistance of him and Johannes, they instructed me on what to do, that I would have just thirty seconds to climb the outer fence, before the power is turned back on, and that once outside, I would find a partially buried sack under a tree, that will have some basic supplies.

Inside that sack, I found a pocket knife, a compass, a bar of soap, half a loaf of fresh bread and a rough map of where to go. From there, I was instructed to head south until I reached the Greek city and port of Thessaloniki, and hide onboard a ship bound for Italy.

Once there, I was to head north until I reach Denmark, where I would be safe. In the concentration camp, there were men from many countries, and I was good at picking up languages, so I was fluent in Bulgarian, but not anymore, also fluent in Greek, Italian, German, Danish and English, so talking to people during my travels was not a big problem,” David said to Carlos.

“Wow, that is some tale, and this all really happened? You were born in a concentration camp in Bulgaria?” Carlos asked, and David nodded his head yes, and for the next few hours David told Carlos all about his journey north, about been held captive on a farm, about the dog – King, and how he saved his life by distracting the guards so he could cross the border unseen, meeting the wonderful Sophie, and finally reaching Denmark and been reunited with his mother again.

“So, what now? Where do you go from here?” Carlos asked, “Well I will drive to the coastal town of Brindisi, where I will catch a ferry bound for Patras on the south – west coast of Greece, with a halfway overnight stop in Avezzano. Once off the ferry, I will hire a car and drive to Thessaloniki, with an overnight stop at Larrisa.

After a look around Thessaloniki, I will drive north to the Bulgarian border near Promachonas, and from there north to the Belene Concentration Camp site, which is close to the Romania border, where I hope to find the graves of my father any maybe Johannes too, ifhe perished there,” David said.

“Well, I wish you all the best for the journey, but for now, I wish you to be my guest for dinner and overnight, you need your rest and I am pleased that you have called in to see us, and tell us your story,” Carlos said.

David accepted his hospitality, and after dinner they relaxed and wandered around the gardens for an horu before retiring for the night. After a big breakfast, and been given a basket of food and drink for the journey, David thanked Carlos for his hospitality before setting off on his journey once more.

It took David six more days to reach his final destination of Belene, where he found a few remains of the concentration camp still remaining, which had been kept as a memorial for those who had been detained there.

It didn’t take much searching to locate the cemetary with the hundreds of crosses in the ground, and after some time of searching, David found what he was looking for. Two graves side by side, his friend Johannes and his father… David collapsed onto his knees, with tears now coming down his cheeks, and he knelt there for some time, before clearing his throat and bowing his head.

“God of Green pastures and still waters, I am David, and I am here today to remember these two men, who were a very important part of my life. I pray for them giving up their lives so that I may live, and get the chance to escape this place and experience freedom.

I thankyou God for your guidance and wisdom during my escape and my journey to freedom, to leading me towards the de Lavana del Varchi family, to Sophie Bang and to my reunion with my mother in Copenhagen. I am David Fengel, Amen.”

The End
Copyright June 2022 All Rights are Reserved, Preston Wigglesworth
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

A truly wonderful chapter Preston. :read:

David's travel back along the same route that took him from being born in a Bulgarian concentration camp to Denmark, his mother and freedom, now leads him back to get some closure in his life.

Along the trip he reconnects to those he first enountered; to renew some important connections - Sophia Bang in Switzerland and the de Lavana del Varchi family in Italy, and to forgive others who were less helpful.

In Belene, Bulgaria he finds "...a few remains of the concentration camp ... as a memorial for those who had been detained there".

After a little searching, David locates the cemetery and "...among hundreds of crosses ... David found what he was looking for. ... Two graves side by side, his friend Johannes and his father…"

My sadness is for the child David, born into imprisonment, protected by his father until he no longer could and died, and then by prison guard Johannes who befriended the young boy and helped him escape, to make his way to his mother on Denmark.

The final two paragraphs are David's honouring those who died so he could live. As well as a prayer of thanks to God and remembrance of those to whom he owes so much. 

"I am David Fengel, Amen.”

 Thank you.

🇺🇦

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quokka

Posted (edited)

The thanks should really go to the original author - Ms Anne Holm (Sept 1922 Jutland - Dec 1998 Copenhagen)

For writing the original story, which had me captured from the very first page.

Edited by quokka
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21 minutes ago, quokka said:

The thanks should really go to the original author - Ms Anne Holm (Sept 1922 Jutland - Dec 1998 Copenhagen)

For writing the original story, which had me captured from the very first page.

Sending her 'Thank You' on "a wing and a prayer". 👼🏼

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This topic was a unique choice for an interesting story. Thank you. Just a pity it was so short.
Lately you are very good in finding an interesting story.

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I want to thank you for writing this story.  I read the original story about a year after it was published and loved it. My father was Air Force and we lived in Germany for a while so some of the places were familiar.  I didn't think about the book for decades and by that time I couldn't remember the title, only that he needed to get to Denmark.  Thanks to you I now have a copy.

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quokka

Posted (edited)

On 6/9/2022 at 8:19 AM, Wolflady said:

I want to thank you for writing this story.  I read the original story about a year after it was published and loved it. My father was Air Force and we lived in Germany for a while so some of the places were familiar.  I didn't think about the book for decades and by that time I couldn't remember the title, only that he needed to get to Denmark.  Thanks to you I now have a copy.

Glad to be of service, M’lady….

🙇‍♂️

Edited by quokka
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