Old Mrs. Meyer
Johan returns with the potatoes for lunch. Mrs. Meyer, who lives opposite, opens her door. Though he’s eleven, the kind old lady still gives him candy.
However, seeing the two Gestapo officers with her, Johan hides.
“My father was German,” she says.
“The Reich is grateful,” they reply.
Soldiers arrive. Knocking down their front door, they drag out his parents and the family in the attic.
“Jew-loving Dutch swine!” says a soldier, spitting at his father.
Johan never sees them again.
His eyes meet Mrs. Meyer’s, peering out from between her curtains.
He never forgets her look of triumphant malice.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He has had poems and short stories published in Schlock! Webzine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.