East Berlin – November 1962
Markus didn’t flinch when the shrill whistle blew, signaling the end of another day’s work. He silently placed his tools into a locker and reached for his cap and coat. Other men, garbed in drab heavy coats, slowly made their way out of the factory and trudged toward the gates. The guard at the gate smiled as he passed through, but Markus remained stoic. The government had agents everywhere and no one should be trusted.
He lit a cigarette and glanced up at the overcast sky. With a sigh, he began walking the eight blocks to the little flat he shared with his new wife, Karin. They had met in school, drawn to one another by their shared loss of a father. He had hoped to give her so much more, but all that changed when the wall was built.
Markus climbed the stairs and opened the door to their apartment. The smell of cabbage and baking bread drifted past him as he hung his coat on the hook by the door. He stepped into the doorway of the tiny kitchen and smiled as he saw Karin. She was covered with flour and her chestnut hair hung in her eyes. She smiled and blew her hair away, making her way to him. She pushed his cap back on his head and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “I don’t know how much more of your cooking I can take,” he said playfully as he wrapped a strong arm around her. “What is that supposed to mean!” she exclaimed, pretending to be hurt. “It means I’m hungry,” he said tearing off a piece of bread.
After supper, the young couple settled into chairs and listened to the radio broadcasts from the BBC. This was strictly forbidden of course so Markus had to move his chair close in order to hear. The world of the West seemed so far from their dreary lives. They listened, but didn’t dare to dream. That would be too much. “Dreaming brings nothing but heartbreak,” Marcus once told Karin.
The next day as Markus ambled toward the factory, he noticed a flash of color down a side street. He knew the penalty for being late was severe, but he couldn’t resist investigating the bright speck now moving away from him. There! A red sleeve darted around a corner. When Markus rounded the corner, there was nothing. He was in an alley with walls on three sides. Moving closer to one of the walls, Markus noticed that a stone was slightly out of place. He touched the stone and then moved his hand quickly when he felt the heat coming from it. As his heart began to pound in his chest, he slowly moved his hand toward the stone again. This time he left it there longer and the heat began to radiate up his arm and through his body.
Markus felt himself being pulled into, no through, the wall. The sky was the first thing he noticed. The drab gray clouds were gone, replaced by a brilliant blue. He saw buildings of odd shapes and sizes, of every color imaginable. “Welcome,” a kind voice spoke. “Where am I?” said Marcus. “Well, let’s just say you are about as close AND as far away from home as you could possibly be,” said the voice, which he noticed belonged to an older gentleman wearing tweed knee britches and a bright orange vest. “How did I get through that wall?” Marcus asked. “What wall?” replied the man, peering over Markus’ shoulder. As Markus turned he gasped. There was no wall. The scene behind him was a grassy meadow filled with purple wildflowers. “SSSHHHH, it’s magic,” the old man whispered.
“Who are you?” Marcus asked. “We used to be like you, friend. We went to work every day, traded our souls for the pittance paid by the government. We left that world behind and now we live here.” As they walked Markus couldn’t help but notice the smiling faces and the infectious laughter of the people working outside the little homes. This was a world he had never known. A young boy, wearing a bright red shirt dashed up beside the old man. The old man whispered something to him and the young boy left as quickly as he came. “He’s the one I saw! On the other side, I know that’s him,” said Markus. “He’s my messenger,” said the old man. “I send him to extend invitations to people like you.”
“Markus, the time has come for you to make a decision.” Markus looked up the old man, puzzled. “I invited you here. You can stay or you may return to your old life,” the old man remarked. “I want to stay, but I need to go get Karin.” The old man’s eyes grew sad. “You may leave, but once you leave you cannot return.” Markus felt his heart sink. Here was a world, vibrant and free. It was everything his old life wasn’t. Then he thought of the tiny figure in the kitchen. His heart quivered and he knew his answer. “I want to go home,” he said. The old man nodded and the young boy in the red shirt appeared. “Take him home, he has made his choice,” said the old man. The young boy took Markus back to the meadow. He pointed to a large stone hidden in the grass. Markus reached down and touched it. It was cold. As his hand grasped the rock, the chill extended through his body and he found himself once more in the alleyway. Looking at the wall, he searched for the unique stone. It was gone. He felt for its warmth, but found nothing but the cool touch of the rock.
Markus made his way back to the apartment. He thought about what happened and whether he should tell anyone. “Dreams bring nothing but heartbreak,” he muttered. He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The window was open and when he glanced out of it he saw a flash of red and a familiar female figure dashing after it down a side street.