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Thread: The Stalingrad Project: An Alternate History

  1. #1
    Nocturnal Ruski BlindPoet's Avatar
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    Aug 2013

    The Stalingrad Project: An Alternate History


    In the final months of The Battle of Stalingrad it was blatantly clear that the battle would not end well for the Russians, if it were to end at all. And as the Kremlin was pushed closer and closer to the edge of an icy cliff, their desperation further grew. Darkness bred within the mind of Stalin and other government officials. They needed leverage if they were to end this without the loss of territory. What better leverage is their than living breathing humans. Fathers, sons, brothers, all a means to an end.
    A new order was given. Unharmed prisoners by the hundreds, to be taken to a newly constructed "hospital". The idea as effective as it was terrible, was to take relatively uninjured Germans and administer mild poisons to simulate a severe injury, but not actually do any damage. A nurse was assigned to each patient. Negotiations were to be made with the Nazis to end the battle and retreat on the conditions that they would receive their men back, nursed back to health.
    And on the day the Nazis were to retreat the nurses were to administer a lethal dose of morphine through their assigned prisoner's IV as soon as the Nazi's were out of Russia's borders. Then in the shock of it all, storm Germany. Quite an elaborate ruse, possibly too elaborate for it's success... This story follows a nurse, Ilyana Alistrotov, and her patient, Yannick Amsel. Their involvement is quite a bit more noteworthy than others in this plot. One that defies Russian social norm, and Nazi mentality. Shall we begin?

    A Russian officer read off Nurse/Patient assignments one after another. Hundreds of name combinations, it took him a whole three hours to finish the list. He was an older man, somewhere around 50. Tall and well built, his voice was deep and loud echoing through the corridors of the building. His beard was grey and thick. He sure needed it too as cold as it was. Every ten names he would take a drink of water, handed to him by a young private that seemed to be a whole head shorter than him but very muscular. This man had golden blonde hair short on the sides and slicked back on the top in traditional 40s fashion. He was clean shaven and had a very pronounced jawline. His nose looked Bulgarian, and Ilyana assumed him too be a defector from Nazi occupation of the Balkans. She continued to stare that is until he made eye contact. His gaze was more than reason for a start. He had piercing steel grey eyes, colder than Russian winter. He suddenly appeared more terrifying than attractive to Ilyana.
    Hearing her name brought her out of her small heart attack.
    "Ilyana Alistrotov, Yannick Amsel." The Officer said. "Bed 66." Quickly she slipped past the crowd to the corridor leading to her assigned patient. Quickly she stopped at a mirror, and checked her appearance. After all she did represent Russia so she couldn't walk around looking like hell. She had dark green eyes that contrasted against a pale white face. Her nose was slightly convex and of average size and width. Her lips again were in contrast with her skin tone, a light popping red. She brushed behind her ear a out of place strand of her dark brownish-blonde hair. She was 5'6 with a near perfect figure. Overall she was a stunningly beautiful woman.
    She continued down the corridor into Patient Room B. Each room held 100 patients. As Ilyana walked she was reading the Red numbers on the grey concrete wall, instead of looking ahead. She walked directly into the soldier there to verify her identity before handing over custody of Yannick Amsel. She fell upon impact with the man.
    "глупый сука!" He yelled at her. "Your identification." Ilyana started to get up but the soldier grew sick of waiting. He swiftly delivered a crushing blow to her abdomen with his boot and yelled. "I meant today!" Nurses, guards and patients alike began to look as Ilyana was violently coughing and clutching her stomach on the floor while this guard stood over her. Without even trying to get up she pulled her papers from her white shirt. He snatched them from her hand, they read Ilyana Alistrotov, Age: 19, Place of Birth: Moscow, Sex: F, Eyes: Green, Hair: Brown-Blonde, Height: 5'6, Weight 130 Spouse: None. He threw them at her, and stormed off. She did not try to pick them up, instead Ilyana merely curled even tighter into her pathetic little ball on the cold floor. As soon as the guard had turned the corner and everyone else had returned to their business, Yannick slowly rose from his bed and moved barefoot across the freezing tile floor to where Ilyana lay. He reached for her left upper arm and right shoulder, but she pulled away. Barely conscious due to the immense pain, her vision blurred she could make out a tall man in hospital robes crouched over her. He looked like a poster boy for Nazi propaganda. Light blonde hair, Nordic features, blue eyes. Although he was a Nazi German, the enemy, she wasn't afraid of him.
    "Wait, I'm trying to help." He whispered softly as not to draw attention. His voice had a warm, welcoming tone to it, Ilyana believed him and let him help her up. His grip was firm, but gentle and comforting at the same time. Once she was standing again she regained her senses.
    "Are you alright?" Yannick asked.
    "Yes, I'm fine." Ilyana said quickly without even bothering to look up from the syringe of poison she was preparing. She had to balance to merely cause pain, too much and it would kill, not enough and it would not take affect. She turned around with the needle of the water IV. "Lay still, this will hurt." She said. Needles not being as thin as their modern counter parts an injection was much more painful.
    "Wait!" He exclaimed with fright. "What are you doing?" The fright in his eyes seemed almost human to her. She kept telling herself that it was just like she was told. He's German they're all monsters. She couldn't help but find it funny how he hid his arm from her, but she suppressed a laugh.
    "Oh come on you're a soldier, it's not that bad." Ilyana argued. "Besides you suffer from damage to your right kidney due to a shock wave from an explosion. In about 10 minutes you will begin to feel severe pain, if this is not in your arm by then you will die." All of it lies she was told to tell him. Slowly he brought his arm back to the edge of the bed. He jumped a little when she inserted the needle.
    "Ergh!" He let out through his teeth. "Why don't you just stab me while you're at it!" Ilyana couldn't help but giggle at his childishness. But she quickly cleared her throat and stopped before anyone heard. "Why do you suppress yourself like that?" Yannick inquired. "Why not just laugh?"
    "Because if they were to hear me laughing, sharing stories, and having a grand time with a Nazi they would probably beat me to death!" She yelled through her teeth while getting close to his face so that she wouldn't have to speak up. "That's why!" She backed up, took a deep breath and wiped a tear from her face.
    "You're not like the other Russians I have met." Yannick said mid-realization. "The others are cold and emotionless as result of having their spirits crushed by the Soviets." "But you... You laugh, and cry, and get angry." He got lost for a split second as she turned to pick up the poison syringe from the tray. "Oh god what are you going to stick into me this time?"
    "It's something for the pain when it begins." She sniffled still trying to hold back tears. She injected it into the IV tube. After the poison took affect he began to moan. He tossed and turned and screamed and kicked. Ilyana just watched in terror, knowing that she did this. Also that she would do it over and over again. The tears that 15 minutes ago had subsided suddenly returned, but this time there was no suppressing anything. She just broke down, bawling her eyes out sitting against the wall on that cold tile floor.
    Almost everyday was the same for a month. Everyday Ilyana and Yannick grew closer and closer. He would ask her about where she grew up and her life before the war, and she would ask him the same. He began pretending he was in pain so that the guards would let her stay longer.
    Finally the day had come, negotiations had finished. The Nazis had reached Germans borders. By this time Ilyana and Yannick were closer than any friend either of them had ever had in the past.
    "I go home today." Yannick said with a thousand yard stare. "I'm going to miss you Ilyana." "I'll tell my family of your kindness, without the Nazis knowing of course I don't think they would approve of me speaking affectionately of a Russian." He chuckled.
    "Сделай это" A guard said to the room. As soon as the guard turned his back she leaned down and passionately kissed him. As she did she slid the IV out of his arm stood up and stuck it in her own.
    "Wait, what are you doing?" Yannick asked seeming somewhat alarmed. She picked up the syringe.
    "A lethal dose of morphine." She quivered, the tears now pouring down her face. "They wanted me to kill you Yannick."
    "Wait, Ilyana no!" He yelled as she stuck the syringe in the IV leading to her bloodstream.
    "Goodbye Yannick..." She barely was able to say through her sobs. "I love you." Ilyana dropped to the floor dead before she hit that frigid tile floor.
    "No!" Yannick said as he jumped down and held her while his screams turned to whispers. "...No." A guard turned and saw them.
    "Стоять!" A guard yelled and fired a single shot which severed Yannick's spinal cord killing him instantly. They both lay dead in a pool of tears, blood, and sorrow.
    2 years later the Soviet Union has ceased Germany due to their shear mortification after the massacre of their prisoners, while Ilyana Alistratov and Yannick Amsel lay in a frozen unmarked grave somewhere in Siberia, forgotten entirely by history.
    Last edited by BlindPoet; 09-01-2013 at 06:00 AM. Reason: Getting rid of those damn indent things!

  2. #2
    Nocturnal Ruski BlindPoet's Avatar
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    Aug 2013
    I deleted this post because it was childish and idiotic.
    Last edited by BlindPoet; 09-01-2013 at 05:49 AM.
    "Who sold us this drill, the cops?" -Hoxton

  3. #3
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    Firstly, a little care over presentation would make this a lot easier to read. Posting on the forum destroys indents and most formatting from your word processor so the easiest thing is just to put a line space between paragraphs. Don't bother trying to indent the first line - the system won't let you. A block of text like this is not conducive to reading so you might want to go back into the post and edit it. Remove the indents and stick a line space between paragraphs.

    Secondly, the petulant comment won't aid your cause with potential readers.

    Now about the story. The prologue is rather clumsy and tells far too much. This is the kind of detail you should reveal within the story itself. Next, don't waste time with lengthy, irrelevant descriptions of characters who are incidental. In fact you don't need to describe anyone unless its actually germane to the plot. The description of the German soldier has relevance because you describe his features and compare them to the poster. Writing Russian in Cyrillic doesn't really achieve anything because most of your readers won't understand it. If you're going to write Russian dialogue in Cyrillic why doesn't the nurse warrant it?

    As far as plot development goes, you introduce your characters, then tell us they've fallen in love and kill them. Well that was enthralling. And how exactly does one Cease Germany? I assume you mean Stopped. Still, rather thin, isn't it?

    The basic premise of the plot is pretty thin too. I know you say you're creating an alternative universe, but it isn't very believable - As if any nation would stop an invasion because of an offer of returning prisoners. Stalin may have been a paranoid psychopath but he wasn't that stupid. Neither was Hitler, and both were quite prepared to sacrifice millions to get what they wanted. Making them dumb doesn't help your story.

    If you want to write a tale about doomed lovers there are plenty of examples in literature you could draw on. I recommend you read a few.

    Live and be well - H

  4. #4
    Nocturnal Ruski BlindPoet's Avatar
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    Aug 2013
    ...Uh... Not exactly the punch in the face I expected but thank you for the feedback. I feel like I could have elaborated more but I was attempting to keep it short due to this being a short story forum. I would like to address what you said about Stalin and Hitler. I was trying to simulate a hostage situation on a massive scale. Both Stalin and Hitler are beginning to realize Stalingrad is a lost cause. Neither of them want to waste anymore men on this battle considering neither of them would win. Stalin was basically offering Hitler an olive branch, letting Hitler reach for it, then snap it in half over his knee. The allure of such an arrangement is that Hitler would be able to pull out of Russia and focus more on the Western Front and the Americans instead of being closed in on from both sides. Instead of wasting men on Stalingrad. By "ceasing" Germany I meant the land is under Soviet control. The Russian dialogue in this, yeah being Russian I forget that not everyone speaks the language sometimes. Sorry, I'll go back and translate. The indents and all that mass, the posting system is confusing as hell on this forum. And I see what you're saying with they're deaths. They were too realistic, I forget that in entertainment death is really long and drawn out and dramatic. But the IV injecting morphine DIRECTLY into the bloodstream in that amount would kill in seconds and severing the spinal cord is instant. I think I might lengthen the story a bit so I don't go from introduction to death in an instant, add some character building events in between. I ask you spare me a little bit because English is not my first language to begin with so that might be why it seems rushed. By the time I was done I didn't want to even look at another Roman character. Again thanks for the feedback, just an overwhelming amount problems, I don't know where to start.
    "Who sold us this drill, the cops?" -Hoxton

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