The Festival (Flash Fiction)

Marguerite clutched her husband's arm. She tried her best not to show the fear that was growing in her heart. This was a celebration, after all. She should have been happy, honored that she had been invited. But she wasn't. She wanted nothing more than to flee.

It was the festival for Chancellor Hitler's fiftieth birthday. The square was packed. Every one within twenty miles was here. Red and black bunting hung from the balconies and windows of the buildings.

The air was electric. Fanatical smiles and cheers came from all. Tears of joy streamed down the cheeks of nearly every woman in the crowd. She recognized many. Most were the ones who feared Hitler, but one would never believe it today.

Hitler was looked upon as Germany's savior. But Marguerite found it hard to look at him at all. There was a madness in his eyes. Marguerite had not wanted to come, but Hans, her husband, had given her little choice.

She stared at the flags that billowed from the poles high atop the buildings. The true German flag was no where among them. The red flags with the black swastika sewn on them, flew high above them. Marguerite shuddered.

"This is insanity, Hans," she said.

He nodded and waved the small flag they had been given upon their arrival.

"Join the madness, my darling. Wave the flag, for they are watching."

She turned to see a group of SS officers studying the crowd.

"I want to go home," she said, letting her flag fall to the ground.

Quickly, Hans bent and picked it up. He wrapped her fingers around the small wooden stick and lifted her hand up. Gently at first, then with more force, he moved her arm.

Tears started to trickle down her cheeks. "Please, I just want to go home."

"Smile. They are watching."

She looked around. The officials were every where, pointing at several in the crowd.

"I don't care. This is madness. I just want to leave."

He moved her arm roughly now, a dazed smile on his face.

"You must appear the good German, Marguerite."

"I despise him, Hans. Look at everyone. Friends and neighbors swept up in this. They have lost their minds. I won't cheer for him."

Hans leaned in close, acting as if he were going to kiss her cheek.

"Howl with the wolves, Marguerite, or we will surely be slaughtered with the lambs," he whispered.

As Marguerite watched, German officers surrounded a thin bearded man. He waved no flag and shook his head. He was quickly ushered from the square.

She waved the flag and joined the chorus of songs wishing Adolfo Hitler Happy Birthday. She howled, tears for her homeland rolled freely down her cheeks.