WeWriWa—From bad to worse

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. I’m now sharing from Chapter 45, “Imre’s Revenge,” of my hiatused WIP The Strongest Branches of Uprooted Trees.

It’s November 1945, and Imre has stayed behind in Budapest instead of being smuggled into Italy with his girlfriend Csilla and their friends. He’s determined to perform some modern Herculean labors, starting with going to Csilla’s hometown Abony to recover important possessions she hid last year.

The gendarme who now owns Csilla’s house, Mr. Mészáros, discovered Imre in the cellar and demanded he leave immediately, without the unearthed valuables. The normally peace-loving Imre flew into a white-hot rage during their increasingly heated discussion, and pushed Mr. Mészáros against the wall, punching him over and over. Now he’s on the floor, blood coming from his mouth and nose.

Fascist Arrow Cross flag of Hungary, November 1942–May 1945

Imre still wasn’t satisfied, and began kicking him again and again in the ribcage and head. His rage was still at white-hot levels, to the point he didn’t feel the throbbing pain in his hand anymore. As a final measure, he grabbed a shovel propped against the wall and banged Mr. Mészáros over the head with it.

“Now how does it feel to be at the mercy of someone who hates you and doesn’t give a damn about your pain?”

There was no response.

“Answer me, you faszfej! Don’t you dare ignore me when I’m speaking to you!”

Imre’s heart beat even faster when there was still no response. He grabbed Mr. Mészáros’s wrist to check for a pulse, then ripped open his shirt, revealing an Arrow Cross tattoo over his heart. In revulsion, Imre ran back to the valuables, put the postal bag around his neck, tucked the skis and globe stand under his left arm, and picked up the typewriter with his right hand.

WeWriWa—White-hot rage

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. I’m now sharing from Chapter 45, “Imre’s Revenge,” of my hiatused WIP The Strongest Branches of Uprooted Trees.

It’s November 1945, and Imre has stayed behind in Budapest instead of being smuggled into Italy with his girlfriend Csilla and their friends. He’s determined to perform some modern Herculean labors, starting with going to Csilla’s hometown Abony to recover important possessions she hid last year.

The gendarme who now owns Csilla’s house, Mr. Mészáros, has discovered Imre in the cellar, and is adamant the unearthed valuables are now his property. Imre, however, insists he’s bringing them back to their rightful owner. If Mr. Mészáros refuses, Imre will tell the occupying Soviets a former Arrow Cross officer is in their midst.

War command to the armed nation!
Courtesy FOTO:Fortepan/Lissák Tivadar

“My girlfriend is on her way to Italy, far away from people like you. She doesn’t know I’m doing this.” Imre advanced towards him. “How would you feel if someone tortured you with electrical wires and foot-flogging?”

“But I’m not the criminal of an inferior race.”

Imre pushed Mr. Mészáros against the nearest wall, blinded by rage, and began punching him over and over again, like an unrestrained wild animal. He’d never punched anyone before, but there was a first time for everything. In his white-hot rage, he wasn’t aware of anything else, and didn’t know if Mr. Mészáros were saying anything or fighting back. Imre only became aware of his surroundings again when he slammed his fist into the brick wall and immediately felt a sharp, intense, throbbing pain. He looked down, and saw Mr. Mészáros on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

WeWriWa—Not backing down

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. I’m now sharing from Chapter 45, “Imre’s Revenge,” of my hiatused WIP The Strongest Branches of Uprooted Trees.

It’s November 1945, and Imre has stayed behind in Budapest instead of being smuggled into Italy with his girlfriend Csilla and their friends. He’s on a mission to perform some modern Herculean labors, starting with going to Csilla’s hometown Abony to recover important possessions she hid last year.

The gendarme who now owns Csilla’s house, Mr. Mészáros, has discovered Imre in the cellar, and demanded he leave behind the unearthed treasure. Imre insists he’s taking it with him, since it belongs to his girlfriend, but Mr. Mészáros is just as determined to keep the valuables.

Soldier! Peasant! Worker! Intelligentsia! Together for the future of Hungary! Fight on! Produce! Work! Educate!
Courtesy FOTO:Fortepan/Lissák Tivadar

“Look, if you won’t get the hell out of my house and leave my belongings, I’m going to call the police. Thank God there are still some real Hungarians on the police force, in spite of these damned Russians swarming all around.”

“They’re my girlfriend’s belongings. If you try to take them, I’ll tell the Russians, and I bet they’ll be really interested in learning there’s a former Arrow Cross officer lurking about.”

“You expect them to believe you over me? All I have to do is say a young hoodlum broke into my home and robbed me, and is now trying to cover his tracks by lying about my past. Did your girlfriend really send you here to do her dirty work? I’d expect a mannish girl like that would do this herself, instead of hiding behind a man.”

WeWriWa—The confrontation intensifies

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. I’m now sharing from Chapter 45, “Imre’s Revenge,” of my hiatused WIP The Strongest Branches of Uprooted Trees.

It’s November 1945, and Imre has stayed behind in Budapest instead of being smuggled into Italy with his girlfriend Csilla and their friends. He’s on a mission to perform some modern Herculean labors, starting with going to Csilla’s hometown Abony to recover important possessions she hid last year.

The gendarme who now owns Csilla’s house has come upon Imre after the unearthing of the treasure, and Imre asked if his name were Botond Mészáros. He admits this, but refuses to tell a complete stranger who broke into his home if he were in the Arrow Cross as well. Imre is becoming more and more furious, and refuses to back down.

This has been slightly tweaked to fit ten lines.

Courtesy FOTO:Fortepan/Lissák Tivadar

“So what if my family got upgraded to a new house? The former owners were gone so long, someone had to claim it in their absence. The oldest daughter tried to look around a few months ago, but she ran away like a coward when I opened the door.”

“You admit to torturing my girlfriend last May, treating her like a dangerous criminal and common whore, flogging her feet, putting live electrical wires into her body, and doing other things I don’t even want to say out loud?”

Mr. Mészáros spat on the floor. “If it’ll get you the hell out of my house, yes, I did help with interrogating Bergman Csilla and other people we had reason to believe knew more than they were letting on about the location of hidden treasure and names of more enemies. Since she wasn’t a rich girl, and didn’t have any power beyond a minor ghetto leadership position, we didn’t press the matter. Now get the hell out of my house, and leave those things behind. Thanks for digging up my floor to look for treasure. Had I known the former owners buried anything, I would’ve been down here months ago.”

WeWriWa—The encounter begins

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. I’m now sharing from Chapter 45, “Imre’s Revenge,” of my hiatused WIP The Strongest Branches of Uprooted Trees.

It’s November 1945, and Imre has stayed behind in Budapest instead of being smuggled into Italy with his girlfriend Csilla and their friends. As badly as he wants to be with Csilla, Imre wants even more to prove his love and commitment by performing some modern Herculean labors.

Imre’s first labor is going to Csilla’s hometown Abony to recover important possessions she hid last year. Matters are complicated by Csilla’s old house now being owned by a gendarme who tortured her. Imre has found the hidden treasure, but won’t be able to carry it off as easily as he found it.

Poster advertising the fascist Arrow Cross organization: “Hungarian soldiers! We stand! Your fight protects your ancient land!”

As he was deciding how to carry the other things, sharp light and a creaking sound broke his train of thought.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my family’s home? If you’re a Russian soldier, I’ll have you know my wife and daughters aren’t home now. You’re out of luck if you’re looking for a good time.”

Imre looked over and saw a thin, tall man with a pinched face, greying brown hair, an almost comical handlebar moustache reminiscent of an old cowboy movie villain, and very hard, sharp brown eyes. He knew this could only be the gendarme, but he still had to demand the fiend reveal himself.

“Are you by any chance Mészáros Botond?” He could barely believe he remembered the name Csilla had provided only once.

*****************

Hungarians follow the East Asian naming style, putting the surname first. Botond means “mace; stick,” and Mészáros means “butcher.”