The Children who cast no shadow

The Children who cast no shadow

My name is Liesl and I am nine years old. It is winter 1949 and the war has been over for four years, but Vienna still looks like it is bleeding. Everything is grey and broken and smells of wet stones and old smoke.

Mama says I should not play in the courtyard behind our house on Taborstraße. She says the ground is still full of holes from the bombs and that bad things live in the cellars. But I go there anyway when it gets dark. That is when my new friends come out.

There are five of them. Two boys and three girls. Their clothes are old like mine, but they never look dirty. Their names are Pepi, Anni, Karl, Mitzi and the tall girl with the red scarf who never told me her real name. They laugh a lot and they know games I have never played before.

We play “Kaiser ohne Kopf” and “Wer zuletzt im Loch verschwindet”. In the second game you crawl deep into the cellar and the last one who comes out has to tell a secret. They are very good at hiding. Sometimes I think they do not come out at all.

One day I asked the tall girl why I cannot see their shadows. Even when we stand under the streetlamp, the ground stays empty under their feet.

She smiled at me with very white teeth. “Shadows are heavy, Liesl. We left ours behind when the houses fell on us in ’44. Now we are light. You can be light too if you want.”

I liked that idea. My own shadow has become very small lately. Sometimes it is only a thin grey line behind my shoes. It is easier to run when you are light.

The other children never feel cold. They never say they are hungry. When I give them half of my bread, they take it politely but I never see them eat. They just put it in their pockets and smile.

Mama asked me yesterday who I talk to in the courtyard. I told her about my friends. Her face became very white. She said, “Those children died in the big bombing in ’44, Liesl. The bombs took them. Do not play with the dead.”

But they do not feel dead. They hold my hand when I am scared of the dark cellar. Dead children cannot hold hands.

Last Tuesday it rained very hard. The water ran in little rivers between the broken stones. My friends stood at the entrance to the deepest cellar and waited for me.

“It is time for the last game,” the tall girl said. Her voice was soft like falling ash. “It is called ‘Verstecken bis der Krieg vorbei ist’. You must go down into the dark, close your eyes, and count to one thousand. Very slowly. When you finish, the war will be over and everything will be good again.”

I was happy. I have waited my whole life for the war to be over.

I went down the broken stairs. The air smelled of wet earth and old fires. I found a corner behind a pile of fallen bricks, closed my eyes tight and started counting.

“One… two… three…”

My voice sounded very small. The numbers felt warm in my mouth.

I counted all the way to one thousand. When I opened my eyes the cellar was empty and quiet. No laughing. No footsteps.

I climbed back up to the courtyard. The rain had stopped but the sky was still grey. Mama stood at the window of our kitchen. I waved at her. She looked straight through me, as if I was only air. Then she turned away and closed the curtain.

I looked down at my feet. There was no shadow on the wet stones. Only puddles and pieces of brick.

From deep inside the cellar I heard them again. Soft, happy laughter.

“Liesl! Now it is your turn to find us!”

I smiled. The game was still going. I am very good at hiding now.

My steps made no sound when I walked back down the stairs. My coat felt lighter. Everything felt lighter.

I think the war is almost finished.

Maybe when I find them, the sun will come out again. Or maybe we will just keep playing forever in the quiet dark where nobody can see us.

The city is very old. It has seen many children disappear into its cellars. It never tells anyone where they went.

But I am not scared.

I am light now.