A Purpose in the Past: A Purpose in the Past Duology, #1

By Daisy Valentine

BOOK 1 OF 2

 

Anna did not expect to be struck by lightning, any time today or in the nearby future.

 

Already finding everyday life difficult because of her autism, her entire world changes when she wakes up eighty years in the past, with no memory of her life before. The only thing she remembers is that from the day she arrives; Hitler begins his rise to power.

 

With a revelation that she can telepathically communicate, she arrives in Germany 1933 with no way back to the present and everyone questioning who she is.

 

Discovering friendship, family and community within a Jewish Street, this coming-of-age story displays Anna being extraordinary in a terrible time of history.

 

Could she be their saving grace?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daisy Valentine
• Release date: Aug 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201700874

Book preview

A Purpose in the Past

Copyright © 2022 by Daisy Valentine

All rights reserved. Printed in the United Kingdom. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This book is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and other incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This work is for entertainment purposes only and should not be used to depict an accurate representation of events in history.

Contact info: https://linktr.ee/daisy.andherbooks

Author Website: https://daisyandherbooks.wixsite.com/daisyvalentine

Front Cover and Title page design by: Rebeca Ira

Line Editor: Paige Lawson

Chapter header art made on Canva

ISBN: 9798836957179 (Paperback)

First Edition: August 2022

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Also by Daisy Valentine:

A Purpose in the Past duology

A Purpose in the Past

A Path to the Present (Coming Soon)

Content Warnings

This book is a work of fiction, though many troubling issues are brought up. Please be aware of this while reading, and always take care of yourself.

Alcoholism, Grooming, Domestic Abuse, Death of a loved one, bullying, emotional abuse, depictions of war, depictions of mental health, violence.

Authors note

Ever since I was younger, I was fascinated with World War 2. I never did great in my history lessons, but I had a passion for it. During my a-levels, I was searching for something to write about. I asked myself ‘Daisy, what story do you want to tell?’, and I initially thought that I wanted to create an Autistic main character that time travels– oh, and who has superpowers.

I am an autistic individual. After I was just diagnosed at seventeen, I was lost and confused. It took me a while to understand that my diagnosis didn’t change me and that I was exactly the same as before. However, it still felt that something within me shifted. During this time of change, I searched for books with autistic main characters saving the world, but I couldn’t find any.

So in February 2021, I said to myself, ‘Okay let’s write the story that I needed when I was lonely’.

If I had a book with a character as powerful as Anna back then, my life would be completely different, so dear reader, if this sounds like you, I hope that you find a piece of yourself in Anna.

I spent months researching the timeline of Nazi Germany and WW2 and I decided I wanted to tell a story of young people growing up in that era. There are many books that take place during the war, but I wanted to make one that is full of tension from the lead up to it.

Even though this story is based on real events, all characters and their names are fictional, and any similar name to real people are merely coincidences. I tried to stay as rigid to what happened then as I could, but some events may have been overexaggerated, or maybe not used or delved into detail in the plot. This does not mean that they weren’t important and damaged lots of people, just that they weren’t right for the story I wanted to tell, but maybe I can portray them in the future when the time is right. If you are struggling to understand a character or an event that is mentioned, you can find it in the glossary at the back of the book.

There’s a little bit of me in all the main characters, even though they are so different from me. So, whatever your ethnicity, background, sexuality, gender identity or religious beliefs, I hope you enjoy this story, and find a piece of yourself among these pages.

A Purpose in the Past was my saving grace, I hope it can be yours too.

An additional note on Anna

My character Anna is autistic and yes, it is a huge part of her story but it is not all that she is. She is so much more than a diagnosis.

I beg that while you read this book, you do not base your understanding of autistic people on this one fictional character.

Every autistic person is different.

The way Anna thinks is not the way all autistic people think, it is the way she thinks.

Anna is a mixture of autistic people I know, myself, my siblings, my friends and people within the public eye.

Anna is not every autistic person - she is just one of them.

So, do not say that you understand autistic people because you read this book, because to be honest, we will never understand every autistic person. But please do additional research and ensure that you think of every autistic person as an individual. Thank you.

For GaGa,

Your spirit flutters through these pages x

Prologue

I DON’T WANT TO spend another lifetime without you. The smaller Soul said to its Soulmate.

They were in The Waiting Place, all of the Souls were resting before they’d embark on their continuous journey to another life.

It is just how it is supposed to be. It doesn’t mean we have to like it, but we at least have to accept it. It will be agony if you go into the next lifetime missing me. The bigger Soul replied.

They had been on countless journeys together, their Souls completed the other, but they had never spent a lifetime together from start to finish. The Souls always tasted the happiness they were destined to have eventually, but when? They spent only a brief amount of time in The Waiting Place to restore the wounds they had endured from their most recent life, and then they would be separated again, maybe not seeing each other for another twenty, fifty, or seventy years.

"When is it our time?" The smaller Soul questioned. No one could ever predict their next lifetime and when it would be. The smaller Soul remembered glimpses of past lives, the most recent one they spent in a cave being awed at a fire. Before that, they had lived on a farm, and before that, they swam in the sea every day.

Every other Soul had been reunited with their Soulmate already. It was a guessing game when it would happen. Would you end up in the same era as your Soulmate? They never knew.

Lifetime after lifetime, they walked through the silver doors separately. It was against the rules to go together. But who made the rules? It had always been this way.

Calling all Souls, please stand at your marked door. The Maker’s voice boomed across The Waiting Place.

Every Soul glided along, and were pulled towards their chosen door.

Not now, my Soulmate. I’ll see you in the next Waiting Place. The bigger Soul sent a wave of love and light to the smaller Soul; they were being pulled to a different door meters away, where an image of a television screen and a willow tree flashed in the doorway.

No! The smaller Soul wrapped their own light around the bigger Soul, creating an anchor.

Let go, little one. The Maker’s voice boomed next to them, the golden light at their side. Otherwise, we don’t know what will happen.

"Why do you get to make the decisions? The smaller Soul whined. Why give me a glimpse of my Soulmate in The Waiting Place if I never get to spend a lifetime with them?"

It is how it goes; your Soul is written into this contract from the beginning of your existence. Was that pity in The Maker’s voice?

You need to let go; we’re almost at the door. The bigger Soul said.

"No."

Let go.

"I can’t. I won’t." The smaller Soul had never gone to a door they weren’t assigned to. The bigger Soul’s left side went through the door's entry, and the smaller Soul grabbed them and pulled them back with all the strength they could muster.

The smaller Soul felt the pull to their own door, one heavy with whines of planes emanating from within it. The smaller Soul began to move towards their doorway against their will, the push and pull of destiny getting stronger with each passing second.

No! The smaller Soul gripped onto the bigger Soul, and now they stood between their two doors an unexpected tug of war.

We’re running out of time. The Maker sighed and glanced at the dulling glow of the entryways. When it stopped glowing, you’d miss the lifetime; not even The Maker knew what happened then.

The smaller Soul reached out to the bigger Soul one last time, they intertwined with each other, and the doors glowed so brightly that The Maker had to look away.

There was a flash of golden light, and the Souls disappeared.

The two doors now black, and no longer glowing.

They had never turned black before, only back to a pale cream when all the Souls had departed.

Maker, there’s an error. The Maker’s Right Hand Assistant passed him the energy levels of the Souls’ departure.

The Maker frowned, and then their golden light dulled as they realised what had happened.

Shit.

I – The times of Innocence

1. Anna

Nuremberg, Germany – 2013

ANNA FISCHER WASN’T AWARE that soon enough, she would be struck by lightning.

How’s the anxiety?

Anna avoided eye contact with Stacey and focused on her fingers, tearing her nails off to distract herself.

Better now I’ve left school, Anna mumbled, her red hair brushed over her face. Anna winced at the scribble of the pen against the notebook.

Do you prefer being home-schooled?

Yes...I get to learn more about history. I don’t have to talk to people, only mother. It had taken Anna weeks before she could speak to Stacey. Her mother had at first came with her, but after some practising, Anna now went by herself.

Have you thought about the group I asked you to join? Stacey tilted her head, and Anna focused on the woman’s upper lip.

I’d rather not. I prefer to work alone.

If you’re not going to let us help, I’m telling the teacher.

Anna didn’t hear the other children and instead focused on ensuring that the images she had printed off were the right colour. She had chosen them all herself and didn’t agree with the ones her teammates had suggested.

Miss! Anna’s being selfish!

There was a flash of silver, making the memory vanish, and Anna recoiled in her seat.

Anna?

Hmm? Anna looked up.

I said our time is over. Anna blinked in surprise; didn’t she just arrive? How had time passed so quickly? It had happened a lot in recent days.

Oh. Right. Anna drummed her hands on her knees and stood up, putting her headphones over her ears. She reached the doorway of the room.

Anna? She turned around. Stacey gave her an encouraging smile.

Anna blinked.

...Thank you, Anna said abruptly and strode out of the door.

Anna ran her hands over her favourite pink cardigan as she walked. It was terribly old and washed out, but it was the cosiest thing she had ever owned. She wore it when she slept, had breakfast, and also when she did her history lessons. She would wear it in the shower if she could, but that would ruin the texture, and then Anna would be devastated.

Anna reached home quicker than usual; she was determined to make notes on 1900s Germany before bed. A recent documentary sparked her interest, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

"Hallo, my Knüddlebar! How was it?" Her mother called.

Good. Anna ignored the smell of beer that greeted her as she went past the living room towards the stairs. Paul was here.

Anna hated Paul.

Paul’s loud voice made her hide in her room for even longer when he visited. It seemed her mother was hanging on to him with the tips of her fingers, thinking that Anna needed a father figure. Anna, in fact, did not need a father figure. She had dealt without one for years and wasn’t starting now. Why couldn’t it just be her and her mother?

Don’t leave. I need your help! You promised me, Ben! Anna’s mother screamed at Anna’s father; mascara streaked down her cheeks. Anna would usually point out that it made her look like a panda but was too shocked to say anything at all at this moment. Her father was dragging his suitcase across the hallway of their house. Six-year-old Anna peeked through the bars of the staircase at her father, watching him leave.

I can’t do it anymore, Karissa. It’s too difficult; she’s exhausting.

"Run off to your mistress, you arschloch! Anna’s mother screamed at him. She’s our daughter and I would do anything for her. Yes, she’s not like us, but why should you punish her for that?"

I’m sorry... Ben Fischer took a step out of the front door, and Anna watched her father leave her life forever.

There was a flash of silver, and Anna blinked. I zoned out again; how irritating. She thought, then rewound the documentary a minute so that she could pay closer attention this time. Anna smiled as she watched, unable to tear her eyes away from the screen for even a moment.

Anna was having a wonderful time in the comfort of her bedroom when the argument started downstairs. She had ordered her pencils just how she liked them, and she was reading the subtitles of the 1900’s documentary she had already watched twelve times this week. But Paul’s voice snuck under the gap from her door, his shouting sounding louder and louder with each second. Her mother’s voice cracked, and Anna knew she was crying.

Anna felt like the whole world was crumbling if her mother shed a tear. She wouldn’t know how to react, how to make it better. Her cries were too overwhelming and loud, puncturing Anna’s ears like knives despite the protection her headphones gave her. Anna’s heart beat quicker as the arguing continued.

Anna curled up in a ball and pressed her pillow over her head. Closing her eyes had no calming effect like it usually did.

It suddenly felt as if she could hear everything.

The pillows she sat on crinkled, the television hissed incessantly, the spider weaved a web in the corner of the room, and her long hair felt as if it smothered her. Shivers ran down her spine. She itched at her neck and sipped her water.

This isn’t working. She thought, her throat closing up from panic. I need quiet.

Anna stood up, closing her palms over the top of her headphones. She left the solace of her bedroom, just so she could find a place where she didn’t feel like she was in danger. She left her belongings and her new favourite documentary, her water with her pink straw and the cushions that kept her comfortable when she wrote for hours on end. She ran down the stairs and, throwing the front door open as wide as possible, fled barefoot into the cold winter night. She faintly heard her mother calling after her, but feeling a spike of adrenaline from her fear, she ran into the forest, pushing open the wooden gate that blocked it off from visitors. The grass was so overgrown from the winter that Anna tripped, slipping in the mud and she landed face first.

Oh- Anna gasped. My cardigan! Anna sat in the mud for a moment, stunned, and shrugged off her cardigan, feeling a spike of sadness that it was ruined.

Anna! Her mother called, and Anna looked back, not wanting to go home if Paul was there – she didn’t belong in that house.

"Come with me! An omniscient voice spoke to her. She saw a golden light ahead of the trees, beckoning her. Come quick!"

Anna scrambled up from the mud, feeling that the golden light would lead her to safety and solitude somehow.

"Go, Anna. Go!" The golden light swirled around her, giving her a sense of peace.

And so, feeling no other option, she went with the calming light.

After running so far that she could only see the light of her house as a pinprick in the distance, Anna stopped and knelt against a willow tree, gasping for breath.

Anna shivered, hands shaking, legs unsteady.

She stood in the middle of the forest for a very long time. The golden light had disappeared – she was alone in the dead of night. She watched puddles gather around her feet, her red hair stuck to her shoulders. Anna found that the pitter-patter of the water was calming. She sat against the tree, took off her headphones and set them beside her, then steadied her rapid panicked breathing.

Breathe in, two, three, four.

Breathe out, two, three, four.

She put her hands on her knees and lifted her gaze upward.

The clouds are big and dark grey. Anna thought while a rumble sounded. This isn’t any normal storm. I’m not supposed to be here; I’m supposed to be at home.

"Stay here." The golden light whispered and appeared again briefly before it soared upward into the clouds.

This isn’t so bad. She thought, the golden light erasing her fear. This can be a temporary home; the rain won’t hurt me.

Then, the streaks of silver started.

Anna was mesmerised. The lightning sparkled, and the rain fell on her face. The thunder grew in noise, and Anna, who was normally so put off and afraid of loud noises, relished the new experience of being outside in a dangerous storm. The air grew darker, and soil whipped up from the ground creating hypnotic circles around her so that she felt dizzy. The wind threw her hair about her face, and still, she sat there under the largest willow tree in the forest, every inch of her doused in water, her feet submerged in the puddles.

She didn’t notice that as time passed, the lightning drew closer and closer, and the weather became more vicious rather than as beautiful as she first thought it was.

Anna didn’t realise the danger until it was too late.

Until the silver she had admired speared into her chest and caused her to collapse against the tree she had taken refuge under.

The smell of her burned flesh would have overwhelmed her senses if she had been awake.

2. Monika

Nuremberg, Germany

OUCH! MONIKA HAD GOTTEN another splinter. She hated gathering wood for the fire. No – she despised it, in fact.

She grumbled as she flicked her dark fringe out of her eyes and pulled the piece of wood from her finger.

She would’ve worn her gloves, but they didn’t fit anymore. They had been added to the fire as soon as she noticed. Every little thing mattered in the winter – even a child’s old gloves.

Monika tried not to stumble through the snow in the forest; in January, you could never tell where the roots of the trees were waiting to trip you up. However, as she did this every day at sunrise, she took the steps out of habit.

Hop to the left, two steps forward, then a hop to the right. Monika told herself, and on her final hop, she stumbled, almost losing her balance.

Whoops! Monika laughed; she was very used to her own company – not many of the girls at school talked to her.

They think me too wild. Monika thought, smirking as she turned around on her foot playfully like a ballerina, the snow edging in through the holes in her boots. She bowed to the mother bird sitting on the willow tree branch ahead of her.

Did you like my performance, little birdy? Monika laughed and skipped towards the bird, but it took off abruptly. "Ah, Zurückkommen!" Monika shouted for the bird to return, but it ignored her, flying up into the clouds.

Though Monika hated collecting firewood, she liked the mornings when the sun shone on her face, warmth tickling her neck, with the birds singing their sunrise song. Getting up early for this was worth it, even if it meant she was tired during the long hours at school.

Usually, there would be fallen branches from the trees around this corner and... ah yes, a prize for herself. She piled the wood on top of one another and turned around to return home until she saw the most peculiar sight.

A girl.

Not one Monika recognised, and Monika knew a fair amount of people. She wore only a white nightdress, and her red hair was vivid against the piles of snow covering her. Monika dropped her wood from shock and hurried to the girl’s side.

Was she dead? The girl did look very pale, and her lips were slightly blue.

Hesitantly, Monika poked the girl’s face a few times. The girl did not move.

Monika leant down to hear if she was breathing and noticed that there were snow droplets on her eyelashes.

The girl’s eyes opened.

AH! Monika’s heart leapt, and she scrambled backwards.

The girl sat up quickly and looked at Monika with fear-filled green eyes.

You’re not dead. The girl shook her head slightly, scooting away from Monika.

I won’t hurt you. Monika gave her a tentative smile. "Mein Name ist Monika." She held out her hand for a handshake.

The girl stared at Monika’s hand and didn’t take it. Monika lowered her hand in disappointment.

I don’t think I’ve seen you in town? What are you doing out here lying in the snow? Monika asked the girl but still got no response. "Are you in shock? Well, I guess you wouldn't be able to tell me if you were. Ich bin dumm." Monika slapped her forehead, feeling stupid.

The girl began to fidget, tapping her fingers on the snow below her whilst avoiding Monika’s eyes.

Where do you live? Monika asked.

Silence.

Monika stared at the girl, unsure of what to do next. She decided to stand up and take off her coat. The girl was still shivering, and her Papa had always told Monika to wrap up warm to avoid becoming ill.

Why don’t you come with me? Monika asked. The girl shook her head. Monika tried not to look too disappointed. Until you want to talk to me, have my coat. You’ll turn into an icicle.

The other girl reached for the coat, eyes wide in fear. She snatched it, as if afraid Monika would take it back.

I won’t take it from you, Monika assured her. Are you hungry? Monika asked the girl, and after a few moments, the girl nodded.

Nodding was progress. Monika could work with that.

I’ll be back, Monika assured the girl and rushed out of the forest, waving to the birds as she ran towards her home. Monika had been on this street for all twelve years of her life and knew every little divot in the road, every single shop and every single inhabitant in the apartments above. The shops and houses were terraced. They formed a never-ending queue of white-painted houses with black accents and rooftops. Newly released automobiles drove slowly, careful not to knock any children over walking with their parents to school. Most rode bicycles,