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Das Fallbeil

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Barbaria1 said:
I imagine there are German words for those parts of the guillotine too. I chose to use the more familiar. It's always a balancing act when writing a story in English as to how many probably unfamiliar German words to use.
Click to expand...
Bascule = Wippe, Kippbrett (tilt-plank).
 
Barbaria1 said:
Denglisch (Wise Guys)


Oh Herr, bitte gib mir meine Sprache zurück,
ich sehne mich nach Frieden und nem kleinen Stückchen Glück.
Lass uns noch ein Wort verstehn in dieser schweren Zeit,
öffne unsre Herzen mach die Hirne weit.

Ich bin zum Bahnhof gerannt und war a little bit too late:
Auf meiner neuen Swatch wars schon kurz vor after eight.
Ich suchte die Toilette, doch ich fand nun ein „McClean“,
ich brauchte noch Connection und ein Ticket nach Berlin.

Draußen saßen Kids und hatten Fun mit einem Joint.
Ich suchte eine Auskunft, doch es gab nur’n Service Point.
Mein Zug war leider abgefahr’n – das Traveln konnt ich knicken.
Da wollt ich Hähnchen essen, doch man gab mir nur McChicken.

Oh Herr, bitte gib mir meine Sprache zurück,
ich sehne mich nach Frieden und nem kleinen Stückchen Glück.
Lass uns noch ein Wort verstehn in dieser schweren Zeit,
öffne unsre Herzen mach die Hirne weit.
Du versuchst, mich upzudaten, doch mein Feedback turnt dich ab.
Du sagst, dass ich ein Wellness-Weekend dringend nötig hab.
Du sagst, ich käm mit Good Vibrations wieder in den Flow.
Du sagst, ich brauche Energy. Und ich denk: „Das sagst du so.“

Statt Nachrichten bekomme ich den Infotainment-Flash.
Ich sehne mich nach Bargeld, doch man gibt mir nicht mal Cash
Ich fühl mich beim Communicating unsicher wie nie –
da nützt mir auch kein Bodyguard. Ich brauch Security!

Oh Lord, bitte gib mir meine Language zurück,
ich sehne mich nach Peace und nem kleinen Stückchen Glück.
Lass uns noch ein Wort verstehn in dieser schweren Zeit,
öffne unsre Herzen, mach die Hirne weit.

Ich will, dass beim Coffee.Shop „Kaffeehaus“ oben draufsteht,
oder dass beim Auto-Crash die „Lufttasche“ aufgeht,
und schön wär’s, wenn wir Bodybuilder „Muskel-Mäster“ nennen
und wenn nur noch „Nordisch Geher“ durch die Landschaft rennen.

Oh Lord, please help, denn meine Language macht mir Stress,
ich sehne mich nach Peace und a bit of Happiness.
Hilf uns, dass wir understand in dieser schweren Zeit,
open unsre Hearts und make die Hirne weit.

Oh Lord, please gib mir meine Language back,
ich krieg hier bald die crisis, man, it has doch keinen Zweck.
Let us noch a word verstehn, it goes me on the Geist,
und gib, dass „Microsoft“ bald wieder „Kleinweich“ heißt.

Ja, dass es „Kleinweich“ heißt…



Denglisch (English translation)

Oh Lord, Please give me my language back,
I long for peace and a little bit of happiness.
Let us still understand one word in this difficult time,
Open our hearts make the brain sufficient.

I was running to the train station and was a little bit too late:
On my new Swatch was already almost after eight.
I looked for the bathroom, but I found only a“McClean”,
I needed more (urgently) a train schedule for a ticket to Berlin.

Kids sat outside and had Fun with a Joint.
I looked for an information desk, but there was only one Service Point.
My train has unfortunatley left – the trip I could call off.
But I at least wanted to eat chicken, but they gave me only McChicken

You tried to, tell me, but my response turned you off
You say, that I urgently needed a Wellness-Weekend
You say, I came back into the Flow with Good Vibrations.
You say, I need Energy. And I think:”So says you.”

Instead of getting news I get the Infotainment-Flash.
I long for money, but it doesn’t give me Cash.
when Communicating I feel more uncertain/unsafe than ever
not even a body guard can help me here.
Literally - Because I’m not a good Bodyguard. I need Security!

Oh Lord, Please give me my Language back,
I long for Peace and a little bit of happiness.
Let us still understand one word in this difficult time,
Open our hearts, make the brains sufficient.

I want the coffee-shop Kaffeehaus to be at the top
or that in the car accident the Air bag opens,
And it would be nice if we called a Bodybuilder Muskel-Mäster (muscle-builder)
And if only Nordic Walkers would walk/run around the countryside.

Oh Lord, please help,because my Language makes me Stressed,
I long for Peace and a bit of Happiness.
Help us, that we understand in this difficult time,
open our Hearts and make the brains sufficient.

Oh Lord, please give me my Language back,
I fight the crisis here for a while, one (can see), it has no effect.
Let us still understand a word, it's getting on my nerves
And give, that “Microsoft” soon again is called “Kleinweich”

Yes, that it is called “Kleinweich”(littlesoft)….
Click to expand...
:duke:
 
In the late 80´s Denglish was a hot discussion question in Germany. Years later there was even a popular game called "Bullshit-Bingo". In America it was called Buzzword Bingo as much as I know. I have had much fun with it, even won a few times :)
https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buzzword-Bingo
But I think the Frenchman have a greater problem with the unnucessary usage of the english language. I think there was even law-making against it if I remember correctly.
 
Barbaria1 said:
PART 2.

Having ordered Barbara stripped, Dieter stood and watched, wrists clasped behind his back, as her skirt was loosened and dropped to the floor, baring her long, well-shaped legs. She wore nothing under the skirt. He thought he should avert his eyes but failed miserably, fixing them shamelessly on the wonders of her exposed womanhood while one of the soldiers fumbled with unlocking the cuffs that bound her wrists behind her back.

As soon as her wrists were free, her open blouse was slipped from her shoulders, pulled down off her arms and tossed aside. Completely naked, she brought her arms forward, rubbed her wrists, stood her ground and glared defiantly at Dieter, making no effort to cover up.

Dieter stared back, noting how for someone who had been tortured, her body was remarkably free of bruising or other ill effects. They must have wanted it that way, he mused to himself, having seen so many other prisoners brought before him in terrible physical shape. The bastards wanted to enjoy her charms intact ... 'torture her but don't destroy her' ... had been their game.

He wondered jealously how many times those brutes in the interrogation section at Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse may have had their way with her, and how willingly or resignedly she may have accepted their demands. And he thought of the irony that his Bärbel ... a fervent Nazi like himself ... had suffered so much at the hands of the regime she had always supported so faithfully. He sincerely doubted she was really guilty of any of the things she may have been forced to admit to under torture.

Breaking out of his reverie, he ordered her bound on her back to the bascule, the heavy wooden platform on which the condemned were strapped down and on which they were slid and locked in place beneath the waiting blade.

The soldiers giopped her at the elbows and led her to the guillotine. She went willingly enough, hips swaying gently and arse cheeks undulating sexily as she covered the distance. Seating herself demurely for a moment on the edge of the bascule, she glanced at Dieter before lying back along its length and gracefully swinging her long legs into place.

A quick routine check of the guillotine was performed. The executioner made sure that the mouton, with its gleaming steel blade, was correctly positioned at the top of the pair of grooved vertical posts that guided its descent. A basket to receive her severed head was put in place by one of the assisting soldiers.

As two other soldiers bent to the task of securing her in place, cinching a leather belt over her hips, Dieter retrieved the gray Wehrmacht-issue Leica camera from his desk drawer and busied himself with snapping photos of these preparations, as he was required to do, for inclusion in her dossier.

View attachment 634397

She grimaced as a worn leather belt was stretched across her hips and buckled into place, and blinked as the bascule slid forward until her head protruded through the lunette, the top half of which was snapped and locked over her neck.

She tried to look composed, but couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at the blade positioned, so threateningly, high over her head. He saw her gulp. He noted the tiny beads of sweat that had broken out on her forehead and that her chest had begun to visibly rise and fall as the pace of her breathing quickened. Her fear was palpable. She tried to wiggle and squirm, panic registering on her face, but the strap and lunette held her tight.

What must she be feeling? Dieter thought to himself. Has she any thoughts for me? Any regrets? Surely she was innocent! Surely she didn't deserve to die like this! A wave of sadness swept over him.

“My Bärbel” he whispered softly, almost inaudibly, to himself.

“What?” said Gunther, looking at him quizzically.

“Nothing,” Dieter snapped, recovering quickly and busying himself with snapping more photos of her strapped naked to the bascule. It was cold in the room and he took note of the fullness of her erect tumescent nipples floating so magnificently atop the soft flesh of her mounded breasts. An insane desire to reach out and touch them, to hold them in his hands and fondle them, as he had so longed to do in another time and place, gripped his consciousness.

Knowing that for propiety's sake the urge to do so had to be suppressed, he instead allowed his gaze to wander down her body ... to the milky paleness of her fair skin stretched over raised ribs ... then onward to the daintily indented navel that centered and adorned her flattened belly ... and on to the patch of brown hair with it’s fine little curls that graced her mound ... and further yet to the gentle flare of her hips, the tapered creamy flesh of her thighs, the sleek curves of her calves and the delicateness of her narrow ankles.

His pulse quickened. An irresistible stirring arose in his groin, generating a protrusion that not only pressed against the front of his trousers, but quickly reached such alarming proportions that he feared others in the room could scarcely help but notice. Dieter could feel rivulets of sweat streaming down his back, and could well imagine that his face was flushed.

He wanted desperately to stop this insanity .. to rescue her, his Bärbel, from all this ... but how? There were simply no options open to him. She was stretched out on the bascule, naked and helpless. The blade was ready. All was in order. His duty was clear. There was no going back.

Not knowing what else to do, Dieter stalled for time ... by raising the Leica to his eye to snap another photo. In the same motion he was able to wipe a tear from his eye without attracting attention to his distressed state.

He was about to take yet another set of photos, when a hand was suddenly placed on his shoulder. He startled and turned. It was only Father Manfred, the priest who always appeared ... seemingly out of nowhere at the last moment ... to offer the last sacrament to the condemned.

Dieter shook his head, hastily gesturing with his free hand for the priest to withdraw. He knew Barbara was not religious. The priest nodded and retreated, vanishing as quickly and mysteriously as he had appeared.

But then Dieter regretted having sent him away. Who was he to say whether she needed solace of that kind at this moment? He felt weak in the knees, and was more keenly aware than ever of his profuse sweating.

Gunther, who had positioned himself next to the switch that would release the blade, was eyeing Dieter curiously. He clearly thought Dieter was acting quite strangely.

The four soldiers had stepped back, and were standing at a respectful distance. One of them had left and returned with the hose that would be used to rinse the bascule after Barbara's corpse was removed. He held the nozzle in his hands. A wheeled cart stood ready nearby. A second strap had been added and tightened over her breasts, crushing and flattening them against here chest She had closed her eyes. All was in readiness. Dieter just had to give the command.

View attachment 634398

Yet he hesitated. Handing the Leica off to one of the others, he went slowly over to her, ostensibly to offer her a blindfold, and leaned close to her face.

“Bärbel,” he whispered as softly as possible, “You know how I loved you. I never wished for anything like this. You must believe me! You must understand my position here. I’m so sorry.”

View attachment 634399

She opened her eyes and stared at him blankly. Her eyes moistened and blinked two or three times. Then she looked away.

Behind his back he heard the shutter on the Leica click.

He glared disapprovingly at the soldier with the Leica, pocketed the black blindfold he held in his hand, and backed away from the machine of death.

The ever patient Gunther caught his eye. Dieter nodded.

The blade came down with a crash.

Dieter waited a second and then turned on his heel and wandered back to his desk. Behind him he heard the men joking among themselves as they went about the grisly work of disposing of Barbara's remains. The stench of emptied bowels and the unmistakable metallic-like odor of spilled blood wafted across the room to assault his nose. He felt as though he might vomit.

Dieter reached his desk and sat down behind it. He removed his visor hat and set it down. Bowing his head he cradled it in his arms and remained like that for several minutes, fighting back the nausea that gripped his body, as well as the urge to cry.

Only when he felt he had brought himself under control did he lift his head, reopen her dossier and sign his name on the last sheet in the designated place to indicate that he, SS Untersturmführer Dieter Horn, had duly carried out and witnessed the execution of Barbara Mohr, tried and convicted of criminally betraying her Führer and Fatherland ... another traitor brought to justice.

Then he closed the dossier, rose to his feet, retrieved his hat, and made ready to leave the room, but not before looking once more in her direction. The soldiers had laid her decapitated body on the wheeled cart, and placed her severed bloody head between her thighs. Her eyes were open ... that haunting blank stare of the dead ... and seemingly were looking directly at him. It was eerie.

View attachment 634400

The soldier to whom Dieter had given the Leica to was busy snapping photos again, circling around the cart, photographing her from every angle.

Burying his sense of disgust, Dieter nodded curtly at his men, pivoted on his heel and pushed his way out through the chamber's double doors.

Passing down the corridor, he approached the portal leading from his building to the prison courtyard, but not before pausing to withdraw his Pistole Parabellum from its leather holster on his belt. He wiped his nose and then his eyes with his sleeve.

Through the portal morning light bathed the courtyard, beckoning him forward.

Dieter released the gun’s safety, took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and strode purposely out into the sunlight.

View attachment 634396

DAS ENDE
Click to expand...
Well, at least the bastard saved me the trouble of running him to ground in a bar in Rio... :rolleyes:

How does she do it, though? Write such dark stories so compellingly well? :clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping:

And with her head sitting on her lap, too! :D
 
Ah the poignant, tragic end. And we'll never know why Barb was arrested. Did she, like the Weisses Ros kids, change her mind about the Nazis? Did she see something as a journalist in the East that shocked her and that "they" didn't want her to report? So much left unanswered, as it seems to be in real life. People die. We don't even notice or ask why. At least Dieter noticed Barb.

Very very well done, Bärbel! :)
 
Barbaria1 said:
PART 2.

Having ordered Barbara stripped, Dieter stood and watched, wrists clasped behind his back, as her skirt was loosened and dropped to the floor, baring her long, well-shaped legs. She wore nothing under the skirt. He thought he should avert his eyes but failed miserably, fixing them shamelessly on the wonders of her exposed womanhood while one of the soldiers fumbled with unlocking the cuffs that bound her wrists behind her back.

As soon as her wrists were free, her open blouse was slipped from her shoulders, pulled down off her arms and tossed aside. Completely naked, she brought her arms forward, rubbed her wrists, stood her ground and glared defiantly at Dieter, making no effort to cover up.

Dieter stared back, noting how for someone who had been tortured, her body was remarkably free of bruising or other ill effects. They must have wanted it that way, he mused to himself, having seen so many other prisoners brought before him in terrible physical shape. The bastards wanted to enjoy her charms intact ... 'torture her but don't destroy her' ... had been their game.

He wondered jealously how many times those brutes in the interrogation section at Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse may have had their way with her, and how willingly or resignedly she may have accepted their demands. And he thought of the irony that his Bärbel ... a fervent Nazi like himself ... had suffered so much at the hands of the regime she had always supported so faithfully. He sincerely doubted she was really guilty of any of the things she may have been forced to admit to under torture.

Breaking out of his reverie, he ordered her bound on her back to the bascule, the heavy wooden platform on which the condemned were strapped down and on which they were slid and locked in place beneath the waiting blade.

The soldiers giopped her at the elbows and led her to the guillotine. She went willingly enough, hips swaying gently and arse cheeks undulating sexily as she covered the distance. Seating herself demurely for a moment on the edge of the bascule, she glanced at Dieter before lying back along its length and gracefully swinging her long legs into place.

A quick routine check of the guillotine was performed. The executioner made sure that the mouton, with its gleaming steel blade, was correctly positioned at the top of the pair of grooved vertical posts that guided its descent. A basket to receive her severed head was put in place by one of the assisting soldiers.

As two other soldiers bent to the task of securing her in place, cinching a leather belt over her hips, Dieter retrieved the gray Wehrmacht-issue Leica camera from his desk drawer and busied himself with snapping photos of these preparations, as he was required to do, for inclusion in her dossier.

View attachment 634397

She grimaced as a worn leather belt was stretched across her hips and buckled into place, and blinked as the bascule slid forward until her head protruded through the lunette, the top half of which was snapped and locked over her neck.

She tried to look composed, but couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at the blade positioned, so threateningly, high over her head. He saw her gulp. He noted the tiny beads of sweat that had broken out on her forehead and that her chest had begun to visibly rise and fall as the pace of her breathing quickened. Her fear was palpable. She tried to wiggle and squirm, panic registering on her face, but the strap and lunette held her tight.

What must she be feeling? Dieter thought to himself. Has she any thoughts for me? Any regrets? Surely she was innocent! Surely she didn't deserve to die like this! A wave of sadness swept over him.

“My Bärbel” he whispered softly, almost inaudibly, to himself.

“What?” said Gunther, looking at him quizzically.

“Nothing,” Dieter snapped, recovering quickly and busying himself with snapping more photos of her strapped naked to the bascule. It was cold in the room and he took note of the fullness of her erect tumescent nipples floating so magnificently atop the soft flesh of her mounded breasts. An insane desire to reach out and touch them, to hold them in his hands and fondle them, as he had so longed to do in another time and place, gripped his consciousness.

Knowing that for propiety's sake the urge to do so had to be suppressed, he instead allowed his gaze to wander down her body ... to the milky paleness of her fair skin stretched over raised ribs ... then onward to the daintily indented navel that centered and adorned her flattened belly ... and on to the patch of brown hair with it’s fine little curls that graced her mound ... and further yet to the gentle flare of her hips, the tapered creamy flesh of her thighs, the sleek curves of her calves and the delicateness of her narrow ankles.

His pulse quickened. An irresistible stirring arose in his groin, generating a protrusion that not only pressed against the front of his trousers, but quickly reached such alarming proportions that he feared others in the room could scarcely help but notice. Dieter could feel rivulets of sweat streaming down his back, and could well imagine that his face was flushed.

He wanted desperately to stop this insanity .. to rescue her, his Bärbel, from all this ... but how? There were simply no options open to him. She was stretched out on the bascule, naked and helpless. The blade was ready. All was in order. His duty was clear. There was no going back.

Not knowing what else to do, Dieter stalled for time ... by raising the Leica to his eye to snap another photo. In the same motion he was able to wipe a tear from his eye without attracting attention to his distressed state.

He was about to take yet another set of photos, when a hand was suddenly placed on his shoulder. He startled and turned. It was only Father Manfred, the priest who always appeared ... seemingly out of nowhere at the last moment ... to offer the last sacrament to the condemned.

Dieter shook his head, hastily gesturing with his free hand for the priest to withdraw. He knew Barbara was not religious. The priest nodded and retreated, vanishing as quickly and mysteriously as he had appeared.

But then Dieter regretted having sent him away. Who was he to say whether she needed solace of that kind at this moment? He felt weak in the knees, and was more keenly aware than ever of his profuse sweating.

Gunther, who had positioned himself next to the switch that would release the blade, was eyeing Dieter curiously. He clearly thought Dieter was acting quite strangely.

The four soldiers had stepped back, and were standing at a respectful distance. One of them had left and returned with the hose that would be used to rinse the bascule after Barbara's corpse was removed. He held the nozzle in his hands. A wheeled cart stood ready nearby. A second strap had been added and tightened over her breasts, crushing and flattening them against here chest She had closed her eyes. All was in readiness. Dieter just had to give the command.

View attachment 634398

Yet he hesitated. Handing the Leica off to one of the others, he went slowly over to her, ostensibly to offer her a blindfold, and leaned close to her face.

“Bärbel,” he whispered as softly as possible, “You know how I loved you. I never wished for anything like this. You must believe me! You must understand my position here. I’m so sorry.”

View attachment 634399

She opened her eyes and stared at him blankly. Her eyes moistened and blinked two or three times. Then she looked away.

Behind his back he heard the shutter on the Leica click.

He glared disapprovingly at the soldier with the Leica, pocketed the black blindfold he held in his hand, and backed away from the machine of death.

The ever patient Gunther caught his eye. Dieter nodded.

The blade came down with a crash.

Dieter waited a second and then turned on his heel and wandered back to his desk. Behind him he heard the men joking among themselves as they went about the grisly work of disposing of Barbara's remains. The stench of emptied bowels and the unmistakable metallic-like odor of spilled blood wafted across the room to assault his nose. He felt as though he might vomit.

Dieter reached his desk and sat down behind it. He removed his visor hat and set it down. Bowing his head he cradled it in his arms and remained like that for several minutes, fighting back the nausea that gripped his body, as well as the urge to cry.

Only when he felt he had brought himself under control did he lift his head, reopen her dossier and sign his name on the last sheet in the designated place to indicate that he, SS Untersturmführer Dieter Horn, had duly carried out and witnessed the execution of Barbara Mohr, tried and convicted of criminally betraying her Führer and Fatherland ... another traitor brought to justice.

Then he closed the dossier, rose to his feet, retrieved his hat, and made ready to leave the room, but not before looking once more in her direction. The soldiers had laid her decapitated body on the wheeled cart, and placed her severed bloody head between her thighs. Her eyes were open ... that haunting blank stare of the dead ... and seemingly were looking directly at him. It was eerie.

View attachment 634400

The soldier to whom Dieter had given the Leica to was busy snapping photos again, circling around the cart, photographing her from every angle.

Burying his sense of disgust, Dieter nodded curtly at his men, pivoted on his heel and pushed his way out through the chamber's double doors.

Passing down the corridor, he approached the portal leading from his building to the prison courtyard, but not before pausing to withdraw his Pistole Parabellum from its leather holster on his belt. He wiped his nose and then his eyes with his sleeve.

Through the portal morning light bathed the courtyard, beckoning him forward.

Dieter released the gun’s safety, took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and strode purposely out into the sunlight.

View attachment 634396

DAS ENDE
Click to expand...
Very Interesting story and nice illustrations, like it so much! Great job Barbaria and Madiosi:clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping:
 
Jollyrei said:
And we'll never know why Barb was arrested. Did she, like the Weisses Ros kids, change her mind about the Nazis?
Click to expand...
After the failed assassination of July 20th, British Intelligence provided German counter-intelligence with lists of names of consiprators they had laid their hand on. For the simple reason that a succesful coup against Hitler was the US and British worst nightmare at the time, afraid that a new government would propose peace negociations before Germany had been completey overrun.
Maybe the list was not error proof and Barb's name figured on it by accident.
 
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