The Book Thief by Marcus Zac for Elizabeth and helmet Zac with love and admiration prologue a mountain range of rubble in which our narrator introduces himself the colors and The Book Thief death and chocolate first the colors then the humans that's usually how I see things or at least how I try here is a small fact you are going to die I am in all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic though most people find themselves hindered in believing me no matter my protestations please trust me I most definitely can be cheerful I can be amable agreeable affable and that's only the a just don't ask me to be nice nice has nothing to do with me reaction to the aforementioned fact does this worry you I urge you don't be afraid I'm nothing if not fair of course an introduction a beginning where are my manners I could introduce myself properly but it's not really necessary you will know me well enough and soon enough depending on a diverse range of variables it suffices to say that at some point in time I'll be standing over you as genely as possible your soul be in my arms a color will be perched on my shoulder I will carry you gently away at that moment you'll be lying there I rarely find people standing up you'll be caked in your own body there might be a discovery a scream will dribble down the air the only sound I'll hear after that will be my own breathing and the sound of the smell of my footsteps the question is what color will everything be at the moment when I come for you what will the sky be saying personally I like a chocolate Colored Sky dark dark chocolate people say it suits me I do however try to enjoy every color I see the whole Spectrum a billion or so flavors none of them quite the same and a sky to slowly suck on it takes the edge off the stress it helps me relax a small Theory people observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of Shades and intonations with each passing moment a single hour can consist of thousands of different colors waxy yellows Cloud spat Blues murky darknesses in my line of work I make it a point to notice them as I've been alluding to my one Saving Grace is distraction it keeps me saying it helps me cope considering the length of time I've been performing this job the trouble is who could ever replace me who could step in while I take a break in your stock standard Resort style vacation destination whether it be tropical or of the ski trip variety the answer of course is nobody which is prom me to make a conscious deliberate decision to make distraction my vacation needless to say I vacation in increments in colors still it's possible that you might be asking why does he even need a vacation what does he need distraction from which brings me to my next point it's the leftover humans the survivors they're the ones I can't stand to look at although on many occasions I still fail I deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them but now and then I witness the ones who are left behind crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization Despair and surprise they have punctured Hearts they have beaten lungs which in turn brings me to the subject I am telling you about tonight or today or whatever the hour in color it's the story of one of those Perpetual survivors s an expert at being left behind it's just a small story really about among other things a girl some words an accordin some fanatical Germans a Jewish fist fighter and quite a lot of thievery I Saw The Book Thief three times beside the railway line first up is something white of the blinding kind some of you are most likely thinking that white is not really a color and all of that tired sort of nonsense well I'm here to tell you that it is white is without question a color and personally I don't think you want to argue with me a reassuring announcement please be calm despite that previous threat I am old Bluster I am not violent I am not malicious I am a result yes it was white it felt as though the whole GL Globe was dressed in snow like it had pulled it on the way you pull on a sweater next to the train line Footprints were sunk into their shins trees wore blankets of ice as you might expect someone had died they couldn't just leave him on the ground for now it wasn't such a problem but very soon the track ahead would be cleared and the train would need to move on there were two guards there was one mother and her daugh daughter one corpse the mother the girl and the corpse remained stubborn and Silent well what else do you want me to do the guards were tall and short the tall one always spoke first though he was not in charge he looked at the smaller rounder one the one with the juicy red face well was the response we can't just leave them like this can we the tall one was losing patience why not and the smaller one damn near exploded he looked up at the tall one's chin and cried spinu are you stupid the abhorrence of his cheeks was growing thicker by the moment his skin widened come on he said traing over the snow we'll carry all three of them back on if we have to we'll notify the next stop as for me I had already made the most Elementary of mistakes I can't explain to you the severity of my self- disappointment originally I done everything right I studied the blinding white snow Sky who stood at the window of the moving train I practically inhaled it but still I wavered I buckled I became interested in the girl curiosity got the better of me and I resigned myself to say as long as my schedule allowed and I watched 23 minutes later when the train was stopped I climbed out with them a small Soul was in my arms I stood a little to the right the dynamic train guard Duo made their way back to the mother the girl and the small male corpse I clearly remember that my breath was loud that day I'm surprised the guards didn't notice me as they walked by the world was sagging now under the weight of all that snow perhaps 10 meters to my left the pale empty stomach girl was standing Frost stricken her mouth jittered her cold arms were folded tears were frozen to the book thief's face the eclipse next is a signature black to show the poles of my versatility if you like it was the darkest moment before the dawn this time I had come for a man of perhaps 24 years of age it was a beautiful thing in some ways the plane was still coughing smoke was leaking from both its lungs when it crashed through three deep gashes were made in the earth its wings were now saof arms no more flapping not for this metallic little bird some other small facts sometimes I arrive too early I rush and some people cling longer to life than expected after a small collection of minutes the smoke exhausted itself there was nothing left to give a boy arrived first with cluttered breath and what appeared to be a toolbox with great trepidation he approached the cockpit and watched the pilot gauging if he was alive at which point he still was The Book Thief arrived perhaps 30 seconds later years had passed but I recognized her she was panting from the toolbox the boy took out of all things a teddy bear he reached in through the torn windshield and placed it on the Pilot's chest The Smiling bear sat huddled among the crowded wreckage of the man and the blood a few minutes later I took my chance the time was right I walked in loosened his soul and carried it gently away all that was left was the body the dwindling smell of smoke and The Smiling teddy bear as the crowd arrived in full things of course had changed the Horizon was beginning to Charcoal what was left of the Blackness above was nothing now but a scribble and disappearing fast the man in comparison was the color of bone skeleton colored skin a ruffled uniform his eyes were cold and brown like coffee stains and the last scraw from above formed what to me appeared an odd yet familiar shape a signature the crowd did what crowds do as I made my way through each person stood and played with the quietness of it it was a small concoction of disjointed hand movements muffled sentences and mute self-conscious turns when I glanced back at the plane the Pilot's open mouth appeared to be smiling a final dirty joke another human punchline he remained shrouded in his uniform as the gray light arm wrestled the sky as with many of the others when I began my journey away there seemed seemed a quick Shadow again a final moment of eclipse the recognition of another Soul gone you see to me for just a moment despite all the colors that touched and grapple with what I see in this world I will often catch an eclipse when a human dies I've seen millions of them I've seen more eclipses than I care to remember the flag the last time I saw her was red the sky was like soup boiling and stirring in some places it was burned there were black crumbs and pepper Streed across the redness earlier kids had been playing hopscotch there on the street that looked like oil stained pages when I arrived I could still hear The Echoes the feet tapping the road the children voices laughing and the smiles like salts but decaying fast then bombs this time everything was too late the sirens the cuckoo shrieks in the radio all too late within minutes mounds of concrete and Earth were stacked and piled the streets were ruptured veins blood streamed till it was dried on the road and the bodies were stuck there like Driftwood After the flood they were glued down every last one of them a packet of souls was it fate Misfortune is that what glued them down like that that of course not let's not be stupid it probably had more to do with the hurdled bombs thrown down by humans hiding in the clouds yes the sky was now a devastating homecooked red the small German Town had been flung apart one more time snowflakes of Ash fell so lovely you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them taste them only they would have scorched your lips they would have cooked your mouth clearly I see it I was just about to leave when I found her kneeling there a mountain range of rubble was written designed erected around her she was clutching at a book apart from everything else The Book Thief wanted desperately to go back to the basement to write or to read through her story one last time in hindsight I see it so obviously on her face she was dying for it the safety of it the home of it but she could not move also the basement didn't even exist anymore it was part of the mangled landscape please again I ask you to believe me I wanted to stop to crouch down I wanted to say I'm sorry child but that is not allowed I did not Crouch down I did not speak instead I watched her a while when she was able to move I followed her she dropped the book she knelt The Book Thief howled her book was stepped on several times as the cleanup began and although orders were given only to clear the mess of concrete the girl's most precious item was thrown abroad a garbage truck at which point I was compelled I climbed abroad and took it in my hand not realizing that I would keep it and view it several thousand times over the years I would watch the places where we intersect and Marvel at what the girl saw and how she survived that is the best I can do watch it fall into line with everything else I spectated during that time when I recollect her I see a long list of colors but it's the three in which I saw her in the flesh that resonate the most sometimes I managed to float far above those three moments I hang suspended until a skeptic truth bleeds toward clarity that's when I see them formulate the colors red white black they fall on top of each other the scribbled signature black onto the blinding Global white onto the thick soupy red yes often I am reminded of her and in one of my vast array of pockets I have kept her story to retell it is one of the small Legion I carry each one extraordinary in its own r each one an attempt an immense leap of an attempt to prove to me that you and your human existence are worth it here it is one of a handful The Book Thief if you feel like it come with me I will tell you a story I'll show you something end of prologue