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Behind the heavy curtain, a wave of cheering can be heard. It relentlessly pours all over the velvet.
She stands in its frame. Her face is slim, gaunt even. A scar runs over the left of it, from the corner of her mouth to the hollow of her eye. She is wearing radiant red lipstick, and a black veil sieves her face.
The wave grows.
Her face shines with beauty and youth. Her gaze pierces the heavy air. Her cybernetic legs click, impatient to start. Her mind, however, shakes in fear.
"… Now, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in Paris, please give a triumphant welcome to the Blue Angel, the Blonde Venus, the Sister of the Reich, Songstress of the Homeland, Frau Marlene Dietrich!"
The curtain opens. The crowd, before her. Immense, chaotic, terrifying, as always. She steps forwards slowly, her face cold as stone. Stands in front of the microphone. The room becomes so silent, Death itself would feel unsettled.
She feels all the strength within this microphone. She knows what will happen now, in a few moments. For now, she takes a few more moments to watch the crowd before her, stretching to the horizon. They are at her feet. It's here only moment of victory.
Bei der Kaserne…
Immediately, pain longs at the back of her skull. The crowd stands up already. They get ready for their roar.
Vor dem großen Tor
Steht eine Laterne
Und steht sie noch davor
Dort woll'n wir uns wieder seh'n
Bei der Laterne wollen wir steh'n
The microphone catches the strength of her voice. It transmit it to the huge devices behind her, sending it towards the crowd, feeling euphoria slowly crawling.
Wie einst Lili Marleen.
Each soul around the scene screams this verse, spits it. She suffers even more.
Unsere beiden Schatten
Sah'n wie einer aus
Daß wir lieb uns hatten
Das sah man gleich daraus
Und alle Leute soll'n es seh'n
Wenn wir bei der Laterne steh'n
Her voice is not enough. The microphone takes its strength in her lungs, dissects her vocal chords. Her under-skin implants start heating up, preparing their arrival.
Wie einst Lili Marleen.
Another time. The wave hits her upfront, almost making her faint.
Wie einst Lili Marleen.
Her scar glows red and the moment after, she sees them. Everywhere, between the living, the blue spectres, all watching them with their empty gaze. Some are up close, a few ones are almost touching her tights with their fingertips. Their lips are slightly waved, embellishing their faces. They smile.
Mit dir Lili Marleen?
This time, the ghosts are also mumbling from the tip of their heart the lament, next to the public that, slowly, calms down.
Aus dem stillen Raume,
Aus der Erde Grund
Hebt sich wie im Traume
Dein verliebter Mund
Wenn sich die späten Nebel dreh'n
Wer wird bei der Laterne steh'n
The living and the dead altogether listen to the poem religiously. She feels the microphone digging in her veins. She sees the figures falling down, lulled by the tune. The speakers bring them serenity and harmony.
Mit dir Lili Marleen?
Everytime. Everytime. Everytime. Everytime. He appears every time.
Wenn sich die...
His blond hair fall right behind his ears. She wants to cry, but the device in her throat stops her sobbing and make her sing again.
...späten Nebel dreh'n
His angelic face smiles at her. After his death, he never aged.
Wer wird bei...
She cannot stop staring at the hole in his soldier's helmet. It goes through the skull.
...der Laterne steh'n
A single tear forms from her left eye, follows the trail of her scar and falls on her lips.
Mit dir Lili Marleen?
She lets the last syllable drag more than would be safe, then stops. The spectres watch her with gratitude, and start to fade. The living, however, are definitely staying. They swing gently, following the now faded rhythm. They are smiling.
Her cybernetic legs finally allow her to crumble down.
Cite this page as:
"Marlene" published on Fondation SCP by Dr Attano and translated by Cauchynambour, from SCP International. Source: https://scpint.org/marlene. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.
For more information, see Licensing Guide (hosted on EN).
Licensing Disclosures