The rain pours. It pours over the muddy streets. It pours over the land’s trees. It pours over the crouched German buildings, filling in the crevices in the meager, old houses of the south side of town.  It pours over the residents trying to get home. It pours over the mighty flags of Adolf Hitler. It pours over the emptiness of those gone to war, and those who have already bit the dust.
        The rain pours over his hunched figure in the darkness of near-evening. The police officer is alert, swiftly walking in his dark uniform with the slight bulges indicating the presence of a gun in his pocket.
        As he nears each swastika adorned flag, a sense of pride washes over him. He supports Heir Hitler fully, and agrees completely to Hitler’s every opinion, which means, of course, that he detests the Jewish.
        He walks on towards an abandoned building in the distance. Reports have arisen that human-like noises are coming from it. Approaching the towering building, he thinks of how annoying the wretched Jews are. It is his third time this week fetching various Jewish families from their hiding places.
        “Stupid Jews! Why can’t they just accept defeat? They have nothing to hope for- nothing to live for!” Muttering, the officer pushes open the door of the building. Darkness surrounds him as he peers around, opening doors and checking rooms. Eventually, her reaches a set of stars. He climbs them two at a time.
        After inspecting room after room, the officer finds himself face to face with a wooden door that appears to be exactly like the others. Behind it is dead silence. He tries to listen for noises, but nothing is heard besides the sound of his heavy breathing and the rustle of the gun in his pocket.
         It is here that he thinks of turning back. There probably isn’t anything behind the door. And didn’t he check the rest of the building already?

        But he doesn’t turn back. He cracks open the door and stares in surprise at the family behind it, pointing his gun in their direction.
        The family stares at him in frightened shock. Their faces, pale from lack of sunlight, are turned toward his figure in the dark. The officer’s blond hair and crystal blue eyes may have once been handsome, but now, tainted with hatred, his appearance is wild and unsightly.
        They follow him out the abandoned building in dead silence. The officer examines their faces like they are his prey, and he is deciding how to best consume them. He sees that a few have fresh tears sliding down their cheeks, mixing in with the soft splashes of rain falling from the sky. “Pathetic,” he mutters to himself.
        They shuffle along the streets, while the various faces of its residents peek through the dense fabric of drawn curtains. They head for the train station at the end of town, where the train awaits to send them to the camp.
        Suddenly, one of them slips and falls in the muddy street. The officer sneers and tries to steer the family away, but they stubbornly check to see if the boy is alright.
        He cannot get up. It seems that he has lost the will to go on.
        “What’s the matter with you?! Get up! Afraid of what’s coming, are you?! Get up!” The officer shouts at him in the dark.
He remains sprawled there, despite efforts from brothers and sisters to haul him back up.
        The officer pulls out his gun, and points it directly at the young boy’s heart. “Get up, or I’ll bring you an earlier death,” he snarls at the boy.
        The boy rises.
        As they reach the train station, the officer directs them to their section and shoves them into the already packed train. Then suddenly, just before he shuts the door, the father of the family faces him. The man is tall, but worn with the effects of aging. He stares at the officer without faltering, and then opens his mouth to speak.
        “You can hate us, but we will not care. You can hurt us, but our bodies shall not bleed the fruit of despair. You can kill us, but you cannot kill our spirit and our hope. You cannot win.”
        He steps in just as the officer slams the door in his face. Then, with a raspy toot, the train rumbles out of the station.
        Fuming, the officer grips his gun so hard, it seems to bend. Then, with a huff, he walks out alone into the darkness of the stormy night.