FIVE MINUTES

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FIVE MINUTES

“Esther, Esther, only five more minutes….” Mother’s plea dissolved on the crisp wind, her body a black speck. The call ricocheted across the frozen lake and Esther skated further, excited at disobedience.    Swish. Snowflakes dusted pink cheeks.   Swish. Breath vaporised into diamonds.  Swish. Skates cut the ice into sugar.  Swish.  She returned, back to family, and sleek sable coats.  

It had been a tough winter in Vienna, when the New Year rang in 1938.  The snow was heavy and Esther fell off her sled and red blood dripped black.  She fed robins in the garden on Zeditzgasse, with stollen and fat scraps. Esther played piano and violin, danced in white frills and sang contralto to attentive applause and an open fire.  January brought a frenzied finality with more parties and presents than ever before, and Ester’s father Josef gave a blue sapphire brooch, “And this, my little one, for your seventh birthday……” 

“Esther, Esther, only five more minutes…” but Mother’s was a desolate whine. The train railed and crashed, and Esther stood agape as if at an execution. She tugged at Mother’s hand which was lifeless as cold marble. Has five minutes passed? Is it time now Mama? Is it time to go back?

The train terminated in a red inferno inhabited by the insane.   Its doors sprang open, and the obscene cargo was released into stark white light.  Voices scratched - “Schnell! Schneller!! Fünf Minuten.  Sie haben fünf Minuten.“  Esther was propelled into the chaos, and her feet froze on the black ice.  Swish.  She stumbled like a foal.  Swish. She fell. Swish. The wind whipped her body and she danced blindly.   

 “Sie haben fünf Minuten!  Sie haben fünf Minuten …!” The metallic rattle belted the message – “Duschbad. Duschbad. Hasten. Hasten”.  Ester obediently got in line, she gazed at the stars; ash fell onto sunken cheeks, and mingled with the tears of millions.