[ WP ] In Soviet Russia , ghosts fear you .

Hans was happy he finally arrived the hotel after such a long trip. He was also happy he was assigned to take photos of the new museum exposition in Volvograd. And like everyday, he was happy to be stil alive. He took off his coat off and hanged it on the hat stand near the door, unlaced his shoes and removed his socks, and enjoyed the feeling of the lurkwarm wooden floor against his feet. `` The rest of the crew is gon na take a while to get here''.He walked to the window, wary, feeling that he recognized this place. `` Well, it's a better view than that damn wall'', he sighed, remembering the spite the always felt when seeing the Berlin wall, a constant reminder that had he escaped a day earlier, he'd be with the rest of his family outside the soviet portion. He'd love to have someone call him Ben again, but he did n't want to go trough everything he went trough in his first 
 escape, at the end of the war; he also did n't want to risk meeting anyone from his platoon. He was happy as Hans, a german citizen that ran away from the war. 
 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, only to see nothing behind him. He panned his eyes through that run slowly, and froze when saw a child's footprint. He started to sweat as he got on his knees to see under the bed. He heard sobbing; he went for the hatstand got a flask from his coat's pocket and drank it. 
 
 
 `` The war is over buddy, war's over'', he said to himself, as he closed the now empty flask of vodka. 
 
 
 He went for the bed and layed down, sickened and exhausted. `` Was this the place? No, that was Stalingrad'', he thought, as he noticed the closet was partially open. He checked his pockets: the closet door key was still there. He stood on his knews in bed, affraid of steping on the floor. In a far away echoe, he heard a child cry, and searched the room anxiously. He then slowy put his right foot on the floor, and then started to silently walk toward the door, and staggered when realised the door was closed. He walked the rest of the way slowy, and tried to open the door. Locked. He grabbed the key, and when he turned the key, muffled screams came from the closet. A plead came from the other side of the room. 
 
 
 `` Please, leave my sister alone''. 
 
 
 He felt an immense pain in his chest, and his hands grabbed it violently. As he turns back, he sees blood dripping from bullet holes in the ceiling. He felt and heard creaking noises, the closet door slammed open, screams, the room door handle shaking. He starts to violently cough, and as he puts hands hands near his mouth, he notices the smell of gun powder. He feels hands on his pocket. The room door opens, and footsteps echoed away. 
 
 
 Before he loses conscious, he whispers `` I'm sorry''. 
 
 
 
 
 And like that day in october of 1941, no one heard him.
