A Guest Before Leaving

A Guest Before Leaving

Dresden, Germany 1938,

         In the wake of Adolph Hitler’s meteoric rise to power, millions of innocent people disappear into labor camps and detention centers, never to be seen again. Among these untold masses is Miklos P. Frickle, a former librarian and father of nine. Rumored to be a communist, Miklos is arrested at 2:43 A.M., September 25th, 1937. He has no idea how much time has passed since his arrest or what has happened to his family. It is here that we begin our story……

         A gaunt, ragged shell of a man clunks onto a slimy cement floor as roaches scurry. Next, we hear a large, squeaky door slam shut and loud footsteps reverberate down a concrete hallway. The half-dead man is of course Miklos after his daily interrogation session, his scalp torn and bleeding, his face swollen into an unrecognizable lump. He remains where he fell on the floor, instantly lapsing into a sleep that has more in common with death. Awakening some time later, Miklos is surprised to have a visitor in his cell.

         “Who the hell are you?” Miklos croaks.

         The dark figure does not reply, but seems to be intently staring at him.

         “Are you Death?” asks Miklos hoping for a positive answer. There is only silence in return as Miklos gets himself up and sits on his pathetic bed. He has no idea how long he has slept or if he has missed his meal. There is no window or clock in his cell, only time. A splitting headache is threatening Miklos’ sanity and this unexplained, silent person is testing his patience. Looking over at the man again, Miklos is amazed to find that he has a bed of his own.

         “Ah, you must be a new cellmate!” Miklos shouts, “Forgive me for calling you Death, you must think me foolish, but in this place one prays for such things.”

         No reply.

         “My name is Miki, what shall I call you?”

         There is again no reply, just a steady gaze.

         Miklos is frustrated but tries again, “Friend, do not fear me for I will not tell your secrets to the dogs who run this pound. I have yet to tell them my secret, and I will die before I do!”

         The stranger sits on his bed, seemingly frozen in silence.

         His emotions changing from anger into pity, Miklos decides to comfort this newcomer, thinking that it will at least distract him from the headache.

         “Listen, I know it must be hard for you now,” Miklos continues, “When I first came here, I almost lost my mind with fear and loneliness, but now we are cell mates, brothers in arms, who can find strength in each other.”

         Miklos takes the man’s continued silence as a sign that he should keep trying.

         “Do you think I am spy sent here to cajole you into a confession? Look at my face and head, would they do this to one of their own? You must trust me my friend, confide in me and find strength.”

         A slot in near the bottom of the cell door opens and a food dish containing yellowy liquid and onions is shoved in.

         Running to the door and swallowing down the gruel in gulps, Miklos is finished the entire meal before he realizes that he should have saved some for his new cellmate.

         Overcome with guilt, Miklos looks over and sees the man crouched down in a similar position, obviously waiting for some food. Miklos starts to cry and says, “I am truly sorry friend, I have not had any company in so long and I was so hungry that I have eaten all there was. In my haste, I did not consider how many days it may have been since you have eaten. Can you forgive me?”

         Still crouching, the man just stares at Miklos.

         “Will you at least say something?” Miklos is highly emotional at this point and is nearing the end of his wits. “Say anything!” He shouts, jumping up and down, maddened by the aping movements the stranger makes in response. “You think I am spy, but I think it is you who is a spy! I accuse you dark man!”

         As Miklos yells this sentence he points an accusing finger at the man, and suddenly realizes what he must do. He grabs his food dish and flings it at the ceiling, smashing the light bulb above, and plunging the cell into complete darkness. In his frenzied state, Miklos gropes about the room, feeling for the man in the hopes that he can strangle him or at least get some sort of noise out of him. After lining the walls and feeling around in the dark, Miklos is confused when he can’t feel the man or his bed.

         This is because our shadows cannot be felt or be seen in the dark.

         Thinking he has killed an actual person, Miklos begins to wail in despair, “I’m sorry friend! I was mad for a minute, please come back! I can't stand to be alone again! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!”

         Miklos yells so long that he loses his voice and is left wheezing, gasping for breath when he suddenly hears the same loud footsteps we heard at the beginning of our story. Knowing that he can’t withstand another torture session in his current state, Miklos makes the last decision of his life.

         The guard on duty was severely reprimanded and reassigned after letting such an important prisoner commit suicide. Miklos P. Frickle died after swallowing glass shards from a broken light bulb. His throat shredded and his wind pipe cut, Miklos writhed in agony until suffocating the instant before his cell door was opened by the guard. During the next weeks at the detention center, iron gratings were installed over all the light bulbs in order to prevent further suicides....

This was Miklos P. Frickle’s legacy and the only testament to the fact that he ever existed.

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