Over Again Vasilica sat out on his porch with a hand full of pebbles and a tiny flock of birds waddling around before him. He picked one and threw it at one of the birds, then watched as it flailed its wings frantically and squawked hysterically. He chuckled to himself. This process continued until he managed to kill one, having accidentally thrown the pebble too hard and made the bird's brains leak out the side of it's adorable little birdie face. But it's not like it really needed it cause it was stupid as all fuck. He stood up, making all the birds that were still breathing flinch and hop away, fearing for their lives. Vasilica shrugged. He walked over to the bird he accidentally murdered and picked it up by its wing, he then made the journey from where he sat to the dumpster that was like 30 feet away, and he trashed it. To be completely honest, he felt kinda bad for the bird. It's not like it did anything wrong, or attacked him or anything and he went and killed it. But the fact that it was a bird made him feel not as guilty as he would any other animal. He dug into his spacious cargo pockets and from one of them, he pulled out a pack of matches. He pulled out one of the unlucky fuckers and ran its head- in a quick swiping motion along the side of the rusting dumpster, making it spark and watched as a little red flame was brought to #life. He tossed the lighted match into the semi- empty dumpster and took a step back. In a matter of mere seconds, the contents of the dumpster burst into flames and Vasilica watched with slight interest. How the flames danced and formed pictures, and told stories. At least to him they did. He crouched down and glanced up at the raging flames as if to get somewhat of a better view. He stared and stared, becoming lost in their hypnotic percussive dancing, becoming nearly brainwashed.

Perfect Imperfection Ch. 2 "Steh auf! Kein nachlassen, sie wertlos Juden! Effizienz ist der schlüssel zu arbeiten, und arbeit bedeutet freiheit!" a German kappo; blue eyed and blonde haired, stormed into one of the many barracks of the camp. Pulling and shoving people out of bed, shouting rules and regulations; the usual for these poor people. They quickly stumbled to their feet and made no eye contact with the kappo, nor each other, for they were afraid. Afraid of being sent to their fiery death sentence; the furnaces. So they stood, silent and with their heads directed towards the floor. "2 lines. Now!" Hissed the kappo, pointing his firearm at anyone who was slow to respond to orders. Just as the people scurried into the two lines, one of the many Gestapos on horseback came trotting in. "Are you Officer Ludwig…?" asked the higher ranked officer, his expression skeptical. As the atmosphere grew more dense by the second, some of the inmates couldn't help but take a glance at the two officers. Trembling slightly with numbed fear coursing through their deteriorating bodies. The kappo stared back at the Gestapo with equal vigor. "Ja… I am Ludwig…" he stood ground and saluted in sign of the very little respect he had for this man in front of him, "what do you want." "You are wanted up front, waist no time in getting there…" the man on horseback returned the salute, his strong facial features unchanging, "I'll take care of these…'animals'." He eyed the group of Jews with distaste, then averted his gaze; shudders racking throughout his nicely toned body. Ludwig bowed quickly before making his way out of the barracks and to the main block. "Stupid boy…" the Gestapo muttered from under his breathe as he stared after the young Kappo, "everyone knows your little secret." He then redirected his attention to the Jews lines up in 2, shaking with fear. He unraveled his whip and cracked it, making them straighten and hold their breathes. Glaring each one of them in the eyes, he pointed to the icy wasteland that was the harsh German winter. Without words, they understood, so they began running into the freezing snow. ---------- "Steh auf! Kein nachlassen, sie wertlos Juden! Effizienz ist der schlüssel zu arbeiten, und arbeit bedeutet freiheit!" = "Get up! No slacking, you worthless Jews! Efficiency is the key to work, and work means freedom!" Sorry if If I offend any of you with this chapter, I never intended to get on anyone's bad side or hurt anyone with my choice of words. Keep in mind, this is just a story, completely fake.

Perfect Imperfection It was the year 1940, and the dead of winter. Feliciano Vargas, an 18 year old Jewish Italian, had barely managed to take a few days off from university. It was winter; the holidays, so he thought he'd spend this time to be with family and friends. As he skipped happily down the snowy stone pavement, wrapped generously in his thick, long, black coat; he hummed to himself. An old war hymn that was originally sung by the Germans in the last world war. World War I. The tune was eerie but there was that hint of innocence that always seemed to linger in the background. He could care less though, to him, music was music whether it had the ability to speak to you or not. Feliciano's honey colored eyes glanced up at the sky, watching in awe as the snow fell in tiny blurred specks of white, like stars finally reuniting with the world after their long journey in the heavens. It was simply beautiful. He smiled to himself. "I wonder if Ludwig is enjoying the winter back in Germany. I heard it was going to be harsh this year…" he smiled inwardly, his cheeks taking the color of a rosy red at the thought of said man. As if someone was watching, he tucked part of his auburn colored hair behind his ear in a shy manner and chuckled, he could feel the butterflies in his stomach haywire with delight. After a while, a content sigh escaped passed his lips and from then, he couldn't stop smiling. Feli arrived at the door step of a huge, gothic styled house, that warm 'at home' aura overpowering the dark agricultural style. He knocked on the door and waited patiently for someone to open up, eventually someone did and greeted him with hugs, big smiles, and kisses to his cheeks. He chuckled again. "Nonno, Lovino, Antonio! Feliciano's here!" A younger Jewish Italian boy called to said people, resulting in a flood of people plaguing the doorway. Feliciano backed up a bit in fear of being consumed by the frenzied group of people, it was heart warming that everyone was looking forward to seeing him, but it wasn't as if he were some kind of famous movie star. His cheeks flushed a deeper red than before. "Ciao a tutti!~" he chimed happily the moment someone grabbed ahold of his hand and pulled him into the crowd of people, "Come va ragazzi?" For a second, the crowd went completely silent, then if on cue, everyone answered, "Molto buono!". With that they all went inside to the warmth of their home and commenced the holiday festivities, laughing, singing, eating, and drinking. There wasn't a frown plastered across anyone of their slightly tanned faces. ---- Nonno= Grandpa Ciao a tutti= Hello everyone Come va ragazzi?= How are you guys? Multo buono= Very good