Piotr ( I ) Irony is bitter

Piotr’s feet pounded against the grassy, uneven terrain of the Wilhelm Institute for Orphans and Research on the outskirts of Warsaw. His frail little legs and thin figure glided across the garden of the institute like an antelope fleeing a predator. Low snarls and growls emitted from the area behind him but he dared not glance around for fear that a pesky rock may trip him up and expose him to the terror of the pursuing beasts. Above him the sun shone intensely, illuminating the court yard-like garden. While it increased his vision, it also unleashed its hot wrath down upon Piotr, making his raggedy, old and grossly too small clothes cling to his body.

The soldiers snickered and laughed from their wooden located near the entrance of the main building from the courtyard. They wore the normal German uniform with lightning bolts and/or skulls adorning their upper chest pockets or cap. Nearly all of the soldiers wore a metallic helmet while only one soldier wore a cap. These weren’t the normal soldiers and were, supposedly, friends of the one with the cap. The insignias obviously signified something but as to what that was; Piotr hadn’t given much thought to.

The Alsatians behind Piotr were large dogs with perky ears, a long snout, a blanket of dark black fur across their backs and a nice golden brown covered their breast, their undersides and the remainder of their bodies. And these ferocious dogs were hunting Piotr.

The dogs nipped at Piotr’s heels. He had been given a five minute head start but the dogs were quick to make up the distance. Piotr was luck to have been given the older Alsatians. He would be able to outrun them for a little longer which meant he might only get a couple of wounds, but nothing serious. “Run Polack!” Jeered one of the soldiers, much to the amusement of his companions. Piotr didn’t find it amusing in the slightest. He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and pushed himself to move faster. For exercising the dogs he would get a soldier’s meal and would be kept out of the Institute’s Research section for another month.

Just as Piotr was feeling like he was about to wear down the dogs so much he wouldn’t get any wounds or scars, fate played a cruel trick on him and a rock tripped him up. And it was just one of those rocks he had been watching out for before. Irony was a bitter taste to swallow.