Fiction from The Literary Review
A Song for Europe
FERN ARFIN
The Refrain (to be chanted): Dubrovnik Mostar Tuzla Srebrenica Vukova Trnovo Sarajevo Pristina Pec
Yesterday we lit candles for the soldier and Mila drew the stars.
The first time Mila saw the stars, she was scared. We went up to hunt for food and burning stuff. After the rain, there was wind and we could see them twinkling. Mila was the littlest when the fighting started and she thought the stars were fireworks for shooting the planes down. She remembered the big guns that made the loud stars. There were bombs then too, and sometimes balls of fire. Once a piece of airplane fell on the roof of my friend Anya's house and burned it. A dead soldier fell right into the shop on the corner, my Daddy said.
When she saw the stars, Mila cried and cried. I tried to explain about them but she didn't understand and she wanted to go back down where it is safe. It was cold and we needed stuff to burn, so I just dragged her along. I don't think Mila remembers the sky before. Not even when it was blue in the day time. After a while, the clouds and smoke came back and the stars disappeared.
There are no big guns anymore. Or bombs or planes. But they still fight. Sometimes the fighting is close and we can hear the bullets and the shouting over our heads. Other times we hear it far away. When there is no smoke, a yellowish grey light comes through the cracks. Mostly we are used to the dark. And we have candles when we find them. We only go above, for food and fuel, at night. They mostly never fight at night.
Dubrovnik Mostar Tuzla Srebrenica Vukova Trnovo Sarajevo Pristina Pec
We are three in the cellar. There is Mila, who we named because she was too little to talk when we found her, and Katrin, who used to be fat, and me. I am the oldest. I can count to 100 and I know the weeks. I was six when they started the fighting. I don't know how old I am now, but I am big and I am starting to have hair like a lady. We had oldies at first, a man and two ladies who were teachers from my school, but they went away a long time ago. We used to have a boy, Tomas, too. We ate from a jar that made us sick and Tomas died. We only eat from tins now, never jars, even when we can see the pretty fruit or beans inside. We don't get sick anymore, though sometimes I bleed. But when it stops I am still all right. When we had oldies, they taught us things, like what to eat and how to make a fire and boil the water to drink and make porridge from the weeds. It would be nice to have an oldie again.
Above where we live now is a school. Not my school, just another one we found. I know it is a school because there are chalk boards. There are metal desks too and typing machines. Mostly everything is broken and burnt but we find paper in the metal desks and sometimes pencils and coloured pens. Once we found a big box of colours and a whole room full of big books. I was going to show the others how to read. I know how to read. But the books were too hard. We tried to burn them for heat. They burned very hot but very fast and then it was cold again so we don't use them anymore. We use the colours to draw.
We lived in other places before. I think ten places. Sometimes the fires come too close and we have to move. We lived in a big room with a ceiling that had no holes. There were boxes of fizzy drinks. We had Coca-Cola and ginger ale. Most of the drinks were brown and tasted bad though. Some boys followed us home from hunting and chased us away. They had guns. Where we live now has lots of holes in the ceiling, but we have pots to catch the rain for drinking. We hide the steps with boards and stuff when we go away.
Dubrovnik Mostar Tuzla Srebrenica Vukova Trnovo Sarajevo Pristina Pec
We stay together because it is safer for hunting. Every night we go hunting, for food and things, and if you are alone, someone could follow you and find your food places or take your things. We mostly bring home tins but once we found a big house full of things and now we have pillows and blankets and plates and a sharp knife. We took a pretty glass lamp. It doesn't light up but when we have candles, the glass part shines. Mila wanted to stay there, but there were dead people in the cellar and you can't stay above in the day because of the fighting.
Because I am the oldest, I remember more about before. I try to teach the others. I taught them to say fathersoholysprit. Katrin asks questions and I tell stories. Katrin's big brother went to school, like me, and she likes it when I tell how we sat in rows to sing the good morning miss song. I had a birthday when I was six and my Mummy and Daddy took me to the seashore. There was a broken castle on a hill by the beach. We went in a boat with pedals. I saw a fish in the sea and the sky was so blue it made my eyes hurt.
Katrin asks me to tell about it over and over. Sometimes when I tell about it, I remember new things, like the lollies we ate that were cold and white and sweet. It used to make me sad when I remembered my Mummy at the seashore. But the oldies taught us No Use Crying Over Spilt Milk, so now it is okay.
I don't think Mila knows what the sea is. It is hard to know what Mila understands because she hardly ever talks and she never asks questions. But once, right after we found the big box of colours, we decided to draw pictures of before. I drew a little house with a red roof. Outside there was grass and yellow flowers. There was a Mummy and a Daddy and a baby in a pram. I was there, too, in my red school cap.
Katrin lived in a building. She drew a big brown square with lots of windows in rows. There was a girl and a flower pot in one of the windows. "That's me," Katrin said. "That's my room."
Mila's picture was ugly and queer. On the bottom, she made big dark lines of black and brown, all jumbly. And she made the sky orange and red, with bits of black falling down. I knew Mila's picture was about the fighting so I said, "No, Mila, draw it like it was before. Make the sky blue, with clouds." But she just looked at me. That was when I knew that Mila doesn't remember before at all, and I was sad, because what can she dream about if she doesn't remember before?
Dubrovnik Mostar Tuzla Srebrenica Vukova Trnovo Sarajevo Pristina Pec
A few nights ago, we went all the way to the river to find stuff. When the fighting is far away for a long time, we go there. Lots of people went to the river to leave here in the boats. But then the boats stopped coming and all the people who were waiting had to run away. By the river there are cars and vans and carts with people's stuff that they left when they ran away. There is not much left now, but sometimes you can find warm clothes and food in tins. We hardly ever go so far away, except when it is quiet for a long while. The river is dark and black now. If someone has a torch, you can see that it looks crusty and full of junk.
When we came back to the cellar it was almost morning. The boards we left to hide the opening to the steps were moved. I took our sharp knife out of my pocket and we went down together. There was a soldier on Mila's blanket. He was very big so we waited to see what he would do. If he chased us away, we would have to find somewhere else to stay. But maybe he would let us stay. Then we would have an oldie again.
He had guns. When Mila saw his little gun in the yellow light, she started to snivel and I told her to shut up. I think then, he must have seen that we were just three little girls because he fell back on the blanket and dropped the gun. We waited, but he didn't move, so we went down and lit a candle. That was when we saw all the blood. He had blood on his head and on his middle. On the floor, by his leg, was a lot of blood.
He didn't look like the enemy. He was big, like a giant. He had white hair, almost yellow, that was thick and long, and a short nose. His soldier suit was so dirty and full of blood, we couldn't tell what colour it was. There was a kind of blue ribbon around his arm.
We took care of him for two nights. Sometimes he watched us. He had pretty eyes, light and blue. He tried to say things, but we couldn't understand what he said. He mostly just slept. We gave him rainwater from the pots. I cooked him porridge and at first he ate a little, but after the second night he didn't eat anymore and I knew he was going to die.
In the middle of the day, after the second night, when the yellow light comes through the highest crack, he started to cough and blood came out of his mouth. On the television, before, that always meant The End, so I told the others we should send him to heaven. We sat around him and said fathersoholysprit and I sang a baby Jesus song. He looked at us for a while with his pretty eyes.
Just before he died, Mila pointed to his eyes and started to cry. "Sky?" she whispered. "Blue sky?" Then his eyes went dark all over.
After, we lit candles, even though it was day, and Mila drew the stars because I told her they were heaven. She put the picture in his hand so he would know the way. We took off his boots and guns and bullets. On his belt, he had a set of little metal pots and dishes and a cup, all fitted together. We found two tins and chocolate.
We will have to move again. He is too big and heavy for us to carry up the steps and soon he will smell. We can find a good place now because we have a gun.
Dubrovnik Mostar Tuzla Srebrenica Vukova Trnovo Sarajevo Pristina Pec
