ALL THE PRETTY SHOES: EXCERPT

All the Pretty Shoes 

A memoir by Marianne Klein, aka Marika Roth 

Marianne R. Klein, aka Marika Roth, was born in Budapest, Hungary. She lived in Paris, France after WWII, until she was transferred to Montreal, Canada for adoption. There she studied creative writing as well as psychology at Sir George William University in Montreal. Following her move to Los Angeles, she continued her writing studies first at Beverly Hills High and then at UCLA. Additionally, she completed her writing course at the Writer’s Boot Camp and has been a member of several independent writer’s group in Los Angeles. She was also a member of Women in Film. 

Marianne wrote her memoir, All the Pretty Shoes, as a tribute to her long-time soulmate following his passing. Marianne’s second novel, Gambler’s Journey, is a romantic drama, and has been written into several screenplays. 

All The Pretty Shoes follows the story of 12-year-old Marika Roth, who barely escaped her own death only to witness the execution of hundreds of Jews by the side of the Danube. Running, starved and shoeless, through the streets of Budapest, this is her heartfelt story.

CHAPTER I: The Massacre

I will never forget that cold winter afternoon on January 8, 1945, when all the Jewish inhabitants of the selected Swiss protection buildings were rounded up – dragged away regardless of their age or gender to the banks of the Danube by the Arrow Cross execution brigade.  The Arrow Cross army was comprised of Hungarian Nazis sympathizers who for the most part were more merciless than the Germans themselves. This incident happened two months following my twelfth birthday and shortly after the execution of all the tenants in the house where I previously stayed.

I moved into the Swedish-protected housing following my escape from the round-up of hundreds of Jews in a park nearby the yellow star-tagged housing from where my father was taken and deported.  One morning, without warning the Germans busted into our courtyard, rounded up all the men from the building, shoved them into trucks with bayonets pointed at their backs then hauled them off to an unknown destination.  Since my mother died earlier, and I was a family reject, (more on that later) once my father was taken from me, I was left to fend for my own and became a lone fugitive – forever on the lookout for a place to hide without being killed or detected.

In some ways, being a child was in my favor for it made it relatively easy for me to melt into places where I did not belong since in the chaos we lived under, everyone thought I belonged to someone else.  So it was, that while others had to pay a large sum of money for living under the Swiss protection housing, I was able to slip in unnoticed and stay for free, making people believe that I had a right to be there.

There were hundreds of people from the upper class, who gave up their life’s savings to buy into the Swiss protection program.  To them it was like investing in their lives, for after all, they were made to believe that they would be safe and protected under the Swiss law from the Nazi’s execution.  And because these houses were carefully selected and were limited, they soon became terribly overcrowded.  To make room for all these desperate people hanging on to their lives, all furniture had to be removed from the apartments and made into piles in the downstairs courtyard.  Soon we found ourselves huddled together like penguins amongst men, women, and children of all ages who all shared a common goal – to try to keep warm, fight off hunger, and hope to stay alive.  Yet, for all our efforts to keep ourselves from freezing it was clear we needed some added heat especially since young and old all slept next to each other on bare floors.  Finally, a collective decision was made by the family heads to sacrifice all their cherished, expensive furniture, chop them up, and throw them into the fire, because at the end of the day, all that mattered to us was to stay warm. 

The fact that we were harbored under the Swedish-protected housing system—gave all of us some degree of security.   We all lived under the assumption of safety, which in turn gave us courage and some modicum of hope for tomorrow.  I don’t think any of us suspected the horrific faith that was awaiting us the following day as we sat by the fire trying to keep ourselves warm. 

It happened late afternoon when without the slightest warning, [as it was the Fascist’s usual modus operandi,] the Nazis and the Arrow Cross army invaded our Swedish-protected housings. Judging from their commands it didn’t take long for any of us to realize that the Germans broke their treaty with the Swedish Government.  In their eagerness to kill as many Jews as they could find, they proceeded to send forth large groups of soldiers who barged in and invaded our four-story apartment building, spread themselves out on all the floors, then forced all the tenants to step out on to the communal balcony with hands held high. Pointing their rifles in our direction, the soldiers stood at attention waiting for their leader’s command. Then, at the sound of the word: “Aufeuern! FIRE!” The soldiers obediently aimed their machine guns and sprayed their bullets into helpless victims who stood humbly awaiting their inevitable death.  

As soon as I heard the first shot, I let myself fall to the ground.  Still, I was able to see and hear people’s cries.  Dozens of victims folded like paper dolls as their lifeless bodies fell one by one piled on top of one another in a pool of blood, while I lay motionless, feigning my death. As I lay there with my eyes shut, I tried to block off the sound of gunshots pretending that I was someplace else.  By now I was an expert on being able to block out all reality by fantasizing. I could turn my thoughts to positive memories and that ability became the secret to my survival for the rest of my life.

 —

For more information please visit: https://inklein2productions.com/

ALL THE PRETTY SHOES

On a snowy winter day in 1945 at age 12, Marika Roth barely escaped her own death only to witness the execution of hundreds of Jews by the side of the Danube. Running, starved and shoeless, through the streets of Budapest, ALL THE PRETTY SHOES is the story she survived to write.

“Marika Roth’s narrative holds us captive throughout one hell of a ride: betrayal, sexual predators, love affairs, modeling career, kidnapping of her children… Not to be missed!” -Tova Laiter, Producer, The Scarlett Letter and Varsity Blues

“A story about the indomitable spirit of a woman faced with unimaginable horrors and impossible odds. Roth tells her extraordinary tale with clarity and a remarkable lack of self-pity.” -Jillian Lauren, Author, SOME GIRLS: MY LIFE IN A HAREM

“I remember Marika calling to say she’d discovered a memorial to the atrocity she’d witnessed … I googled it and suddenly the draft of her memoir in my hands felt very, very heavy. This is a powerful book about overcoming the ongoing, chronic victimization that is all too often the prolonged second act of the refugee ordeal.” -Robert Morgan Fisher, Award-Winning Writer

..”.plucks at an emotional inner chord and serves as a portrayal of hope for the human condition.” -Stefan Pollack, The Pollack PR Marketing Group

“I have read books about how people suffered during WWII, like Imre Kertesz who won the Nobel Prize, but none moved me as much as ALL THE PRETTY SHOES. Roth’s style, the way she narrated how cruel life can be, without judging others, truly brought tears to my eyes.” -Vivian Nagy, Hungary

“A story of self-discovery, wonderfully told, full of such drama that one can hardly believe that an innocent little girl could endure so much. I couldn’t put it down!” -Mary Stokes-Rees, China

“The story of Anne Frank cannot even compare to what Marika went through. A book all teenagers and young adults should read.” -Shelia Durfey, Independent

BUY HERE

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing