"The Peace Seeker" - A Disneyfication of the Diary of Anne Frank
In June of 1929, Germany was graced with the birth of a beautiful baby girl named Anne. Anne and her family were Jewish. Unfortunately, a group of severely anti-Semitic people called the Nazis were rising to political power. When the Nazis took over Germany in 1933, Anne and her family were forced to move to Amsterdam to ensure their safety.
Living in the Dutch countryside, Anne grew up into a lovely girl with a creative spirit. Anne loved to daydream about a perfect world, especially when she heard news of Nazis hurting her people. She drew happy pictures to help cover the sadness. Anne drew her daydreams whenever she was not helping her mother at home or attending school. Sketches of peaceful mountains, majestic palaces, and smiling, kind-hearted royalty filled whatever paper Anne could find. She dreamed of peace.
Unfortunately though, paper was scarce because of the Nazi’s political effect on Europe. Anne was often disciplined by her teacher for drawing on her homework. But if Anne did not draw, she would simply explode from all of her pent-up ideas and daydreams. She had to make art, but no one understood that except her dear mother.
Along with the sadness caused by the limited paper availability, Anne was tormented by Margot, her sister, and Peter, their neighbor. Margot and Peter told Anne she was impractical and silly. Sometimes Anne got so very caught up in her drawings that she didn’t hear people speaking to her. And other times, Anne was so deeply involved in her daydreams while walking to school that she ran into people, mailboxes, or anything at all, really. Margot and Peter always laughed when Anne injured or embarrassed herself while daydreaming. Anne’s head was perpetually in the clouds, but she preferred it that way.
One day, Edith, Anne’s mother, noticed Anne was particularly discouraged about the criticism from her sister. Edith knew in her heart the time had come to pass on a precious gift to her daughter. The gift was a beautiful, blank book, perfect for drawing. The cover was brown leather, and a string was attached to secure the book shut. A unique imprint sat on the top corner of the book’s cover. Edith said the book was passed down from her great-great-grandmother. The inscription inside read, This book is to be saved for the woman with great potential inhibited by great hardship. Record your honest heart on these pages, my child, and shalom, God’s peace, will find you.
“This book is destined to be yours, my daughter,” said Edith. “Great-great-grandmother Rosa would want this to be yours.” Anne hugged her mother, whom she loved very much, and thanked her for the beautiful gift. When Anne took the book in her hand, a small shimmer of white light surrounded the object, barely visible. Anne gasped with glee, and Edith smiled, knowing her daughter would certainly be taken care of.
Anne was so excited that she immediately sat down to draw. Halfway through her sketch of a beautiful mountain range, she decided to find inspiration outside. She hopped up and ran out the door, book and pencil in hand. As she rounded a corner, someone grabbed her painfully by the arm. It was Peter, her neighbor. He snatched the book out of her hands and said with a snarl, “Now what’s this, little Anne Frank? Did you finally learn how to daydream art supplies into reality?” Anne tried to respond politely, but when Peter threatened to drop her new book in a nearby puddle, Anne felt a burst of energy zip through her body. She rebelliously snatched the book back and bolted. However, the second she turned to run, her face collided with green fabric and brass buttons covering a broad, solid chest. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Anne thought. A Nazi. An unfamiliar one. The Nazis had entered Amsterdam a few years before, but Anne never got accustomed to their presence. The soldiers could sneak up any time and stir up trouble.
“Excuse me, I apologize…um, sir!” Anne exclaimed. She looked up into stern, drastically beautiful blue eyes, framed by platinum blonde eyelashes. Remembering the Nazi-imposed etiquette, Anne immediately bowed her head in respect, eyes to the ground, even though the young man appeared to be around her age.
“Which of you is causing trouble, you dirty Jews?” asked the young man coldly. “Does it involve this book? Surely one of you stole it…” He reached out to take the book from Anne’s hand. The second that both their hands were in contact with the book, the same shimmer that Anne noticed earlier glowed around their hands. The soldier paused, holding onto one end of the book while Anne still held the other. This shimmer, in contrast the the brilliant white Anne saw before, was black in color. As the two stood frozen, Anne watched in wonder as the darkness burned away. It was replaced by a weak, golden light. Anne felt a shift in the air. She was no longer afraid.
Peter, however, unaware of the glistening light, was very afraid. He ran, terrified of the officer’s authority. It was widely known that Nazi officers were horrendously cruel to Jewish people like Peter and Anne.
Anne, relieved that Peter was gone, calmly replied to the officer’s inquiry concerning the book, “No sir, this was not stolen. I received the drawing book as a gift. It was passed down through my family for generations, and now it belongs to me.” Though Anne no longer felt the need to keep her head bowed before the man, she resisted a strong compulsion to look into the Nazi’s eyes to memorize them for a drawing. However, as the glimmer began to brighten around the book, Anne felt supernaturally peaceful. She gave in to the desire to look up, even though making eye contact with a Nazi promised harsh consequences.
The second their eyes met, her deep brown irises were pierced by his clear blue ones, and the weak, golden light around their hands transformed into the same brilliant white Anne saw when she first touched the book, only much brighter. Anne was aesthetically astounded, but not by the mysterious shimmer. The man’s eyes held her attention. They were a wonder to behold, fathoms of the most beautiful blue. The sternness in his eyes was gone, she noticed. It was replaced with softness and mild confusion that suited his countenance beautifully. He looked more human.
The young man blinked, as if clearing away fog from his eyes. Anne continued to gaze into the spectacular blue gems. After a good minute of staring back at Anne, the young man introduced himself as Ansell, a brand new Nazi recruit, straight from Germany. He asked where she got the book. The symbol on the cover looked familiar to him, he said.
Anne gently took the book from his hands and opened it to the inside front cover. Handing the book back to Ansell for him to inspect, her mind cleared a little. Nazis were trained to hate Jews, she suddenly remembered. What was wrong with this one? Certainly he was broken.
Ansell read the inscription from Grandmother Rosa. Potential. Hardship. Fascinating, he thought. Something about the book, the shimmer, seemed familiar, as if he had a dream about a dream that resembled this moment. Pushing the thought aside, Ansell, suddenly feeling more concern than a Nazi should ever feel for a Jew, asked Anne about the trials she suffered. Anne told him about her daydreams and love of drawing, which were both inhibited by abuse from Peter and Margot. Also, her people, the Jews, were being hunted by the Nazis, as he well knew, but the constant threat moved paper acquisition to the bottom of the family to-do list. Her innocence shone as she spoke.
Ansell was immediately impressed by Anne’s drive to create and her strength in the midst of opposition. He was also suddenly confused by his orders to keep the Jews under control at any cost. Why would anyone want to hurt such a beautiful creature?
Anne was quite different, quite a gem, he quickly deduced. Ansell asked to see a drawing, but she regretfully informed him that she had no completed works yet, since she received the gift only minutes before.
However, Anne promised to prepare a drawing for him, of whatever he wished. Ansell lit up at the thought and asked Anne to draw her true heart, her most joyful dream, like the inscription said.
“I’ll be back tomorrow an hour before sundown for you and your Dreambook,” he said with a smile. Anne thoroughly looked forward to the meeting. Ansell left happy, realizing he was already halfway in love with the beautiful, young Jewish woman. His Nazi brainwashing was completely reversed by the magic of the book, which, through Ansell, was leading Anne on the path to peace, as promised.
Anne spent hours perfecting her drawing for the young officer by candlelight that night. She loved the term Ansell coined: Dreambook. What a happy thought. A place to collect the constant swirling of images and lines and landscapes that ran free inside her head. The more she drew, shaded, and shaped the image from her heart, the more confident she felt about Ansell’s character. The magic of the book was at work. She drew her honest heart, and peace began leading her thoughts towards trust, appreciation, and affection for the blonde soldier.
__
The next day, as Ansell prepared to leave his quarters and do his rounds on Anne’s street, he was alerted of a collection scheduled for that night at sundown. The event was commanded by Adolph Hitler, Germany’s leader, and the purpose was to gather all Jewish people in town and have them transported to a new labor community in Poland. A good night’s sleep had restored Ansell’s ability to think clearly. Ansell suddenly realized that he was now a double agent.
Ansell met Anne outside her house at the time they scheduled, an hour before sundown. She opened up her Dreambook and showed Ansell the image that pervaded her consciousness as she drew the night before. It showed a fantastic palace surrounded by clouds and sunshine. A king and queen stood beautifully at the entrance, welcoming in people of all shapes, sizes, and color. She tore the page from the book and held it out to him. He took it in his hands gingerly, cradling it like a rare, breakable treasure. Soaking in the beauty of the piece, drawn with just pencil, Ansell became entirely smitten with Anne Frank.
Ansell, in his post-mind-purification-recovery state, was still processing his situation, remembering things he had been forced to forget, like the fact that he could defy Hitler’s authority and become an insubordinate Nazi. Though he was dying to simply spend peaceful time with this beautiful girl, he knew her safety was the priority. He told Anne that she was to be relocated, even though the information was confidential.
When Anne heard about the labor community, she began breathing quickly and appeared bewildered. “Ansell,” she gasped, “I must hide my family immediately. We have less than an hour.”
Ansell trusted Anne completely, though he would normally never question an order from his commanding officer. His brain was still sorting out the facts. The book’s magic was still at work. Now that he had a page of the book, he was partially connected to Anne’s peace-magic. He offered up his help.
Anne demanded that Ansell leave immediately, but told him he could find her behind the bookcase, in the Annex. They would need supplies, and he could bring them in the night. He left, but with every intention of stalling his unit from conducting the raid. Anne ran into her house and warned her family. Everyone moved into action. Peter, who was visiting Margot, ran out the door to tell his parents. Anne’s father and mother revealed a secret hiding place behind a bookcase in their house and instructed Margot and Anne to load the space with supplies. By nightfall, the Franks and Peter’s family sat silently in the dark Annex, as it was called. Ansell was unable to prevent the raid, and was locked in his bunker for attempting such a thing.
When the sounds of Nazi voices were heard on the streets outside the Frank house, Anne’s mother snuck out through the bookcase and closed it quietly behind her. No one in the Annex noticed her absence until they heard her voice speaking to the soldiers. Peter covered Anne’s mouth with his hand to keep her from screaming. They heard Edith explain that her family and neighbors were visiting friends out of town. She is throwing them off our trail, Anne thought as she silently wept for the only person that really understood her. Not even the Dreambook’s magic could shield her from the horror of this experience. Soon they heard the scream, then the shot of a gun. Anne’s mother was dead.
The two families learned to survive, to grieve quietly, to exist carefully. Margot and Peter still tormented Anne for her constant daydreaming and drawing. They were really just jealous that she had a way to forget the situation, to escape for a few hours every day.
And as the months passed, the book’s magic became a low hum in Anne’s heart, a slow drip of peace that increased when distress was near. Anne’s drawing capability grew and grew. Her pieces were soon beautiful enough to adorn a royal palace, and she dreamed they one day would. The book’s magic used the abuse from Peter and Margot to fuel Anne’s desire to be an excellent artist.
Ansell ensured that he was assigned watch over Anne’s street. He soon learned what Anne meant by “behind the bookcase”, and every few weeks he patrolled the Frank house for a few extra minutes to sneak in supplies. None of the others in the Annex knew that their supplier was a Nazi, just that Anne had found someone to help them. Ansell whispered to Anne through the bookcase when he came, but they could not see or touch each other. The possibility of someone seeing a Nazi and Jews through the window was too risky, so Anne waited until hours after Ansell’s departure to retrieve the supplies. The Dreambook’s magic directed her toward peace, toward Ansell, though every bit of logic said she should never trust a Nazi. But Ansell’s outward appearance no longer reflected his heart.
Anne soon fell completely in love with the blonde-haired man, which happened all on its own, with no prompting from the book’s magic. She expressed her love by creating an elaborate portrait of them together. Even though Anne and Ansell could never see each other, only hear each other’s whisper, their love grew deeper and deeper.
One day, Peter was in a particularly mean mood. He knew Anne’s art was magnificent, but he was jealous and bored after being stuck inside for so many months. He began to whisper in her ear as she drew, filling her head with lies about her silliness and clumsiness. But because of the book’s magic, Anne treated him with only kindness, which led her to peace.
Peter was frustrated that Anne did not cry or seem upset. So after she went to sleep that night, Peter stole her Dreambook and quietly burned it with matches in the corner where no one would see the light. When Anne could not find her book in the morning, Peter told her to forget her dreams and face reality for once.
Since her only source of hope and magic, her Dreambook, was gone, Anne began to despair. The old fears, the realities of the danger, hatred, and the fact that no one really understood her began to sink in. Images of her mother’s death, the weight of constant criticism, and the fact that an army wanted to extinguish her people swam through her mind, replacing the beautiful daydreams with a sickening dread. The magic was gone, and Anne’s soul slowly withered.
While it seemed like the book’s magic had died upon Peter’s transgression, it was fully alive, and simply on the move. The Dreambook looked for its missing page. The ashes from the papers Peter burned seeped through the cracks in the wall and rode on the wind. They reassembled in Ansell’s room, under his pillow where he kept Anne’s drawing. The book reconstructed itself into a glorious object, trimmed in gold and silver. Anne’s magnificent drawings were preserved, and when Ansell came home from his rounds that day, he found the book.
He immediately opened it and flipped through two years of Anne’s life. The beauty of the art he beheld overwhelmed him. How could anyone want this precious creature dead? he thought, dumbfounded. It was at that moment he decided to rescue Anne Frank. He would set her free from her prison and help her follow her dreams, no matter the cost.
However, Ansell’s commanding officer burst into his room at that moment and saw the drawing of Ansell with a Jewish girl. Ansell thought quickly, constructing a lie. He explained that he found the book in a bunch of rubbish on his rounds. He claimed to recognize the Jewish girl in the image, who obviously thought he was handsome, but he claimed she was relocated with the others two years before. The officer trusted Ansell, but still planned a search on Ansell’s assigned street.
As soon as the officer left the building, Ansell raced to the Frank house and banged on the bookcase. Anne knew it was him, the man who held her heart, whom she had not seen or touched in two years. However, since the lack of the Dreambook’s magic left Anne in a despairing state, she had no strength to open the bookcase or tell anyone that the man to whom the voice belonged was trustworthy. Ansell found a latch on the bookcase’s exterior and broke it with a swift kick. Opening the hinged bookcase door and stepping into the Annex, Ansell beheld several immensely terrified sets of eyes. But none of them belonged to his Anne.
When the residents of the Annex saw the green uniform and brass buttons, they immediately hated Anne. She was the one who organized someone to provide food and supplies, and that person obviously conspired to turn them in. How else would the Nazis know their whereabouts? They all stood huddled in a corner, heads bowed, eyes down, in fear of the authority of the blonde soldier.
Ansell’s eyes darted around the small space until he noticed a small, Anne-sized heap in a dark corner. He rushed to her side and wept at the sight. His beautiful Anne had disintegrated into a shell of her former vibrancy.
“My darling,” Ansell wept, “what happened to you?”
“My book is gone,” she whispered, too weak to speak normally. “My magic is gone. My hope is gone.”
“My love…” Ansell replied, “Your book is safe. It found me. I have it here in my bag.”
Anne’s countenance perked up considerably as Ansell reached into his satchel to retrieve the object. He placed it in her hands, and Anne waited for the shimmer of magic to revitalize her. But nothing happened. Her hope plummeted once again, but before she could shed a single tear, she felt lips against hers. As Ansell kissed her, the book between them on the floor lit up. Her energy returned. A shimmer surrounded them both as Ansell transferred the purifying magic he received two years ago into her soul. Her mind was once again filled with magnificent images of a perfect kingdom, ruled by a King who loved people of all colors, shapes and sizes. The despair left her heart, and she was cleansed of her suffering.
The kiss ended and the magic sharing was complete. The book’s magic was augmented by the mystical power of true love, forever connecting their two hearts, leading Anne further down the path to the peace, as Grandmother Rose promised. Ansell quickly warned the residents of the Annex about what was to come. If they left immediately, they could escape without being noticed.
The Annex people were still furious at Anne, unaware of the presence of magic in their midst. They would never trust a man in green. Remaining in their secret prison was preferable to trusting a Nazi. Anne reminded them that if Ansell was truly a treacherous person, he would simply turn them in anyway. That convinced them, and they were packed in four minutes.
The group snuck away undetected, covered by the darkness of night. Ansell found a Nazi vehicle a few streets over and transported the group to a train station several miles away. Margot and Peter’s family insisted on traveling northward, but something in Anne and Ansell’s hearts knew they were to travel south. The magic was guiding them.
Anne and Ansell parted ways with the others, and somehow knew deep down that the group would be safe. The couple hopped on a southbound train and took a seat. As they rode along, Ansell noticed a pendant on the jacket of a man who passed by. It was identical to the symbol on Anne’s Dreambook! Maybe he knew the origin of the Dreambook’s magic! Ansell jumped up, grabbed Anne’s hand, and they followed the man to the next train car, but he was nowhere to be found. The two kept jumping from car to car until they reached the back of the train. Confused, Anne and Ansell remained in the caboose.
“I thought the magic was leading us again. But I suppose not,” Ansell said. They felt the weight of disappointment, of losing an opportunity to receive an explanation for the spectacular events that happened because of Anne’s magical book. Anne opened her mouth to say something, but before the words came out, the glimmer appeared, silencing her. It originated in Anne and Ansell’s hearts, the core of true love, and spread to their whole bodies, then eventually filled the entire train car.
There was white light, blindingly bright, then nothing.
____
Anne woke up in an extravagantly furnished bedroom, clothed in a fine silk nightgown. Popping out of bed immediately, she grabbed the robe that was draped over the foot of the bed and dashed into the hallway. Her heart’s magic guided her to Ansell, who was six rooms down, sitting at a huge, elegant feasting table. He was joined by two finely dressed people.
Royalty, Anne thought.
Then her heart began to race. The faces of the older couple were familiar. No, she thought, knowing she must be in a dream.
But alas, Anne was awake, more awake than she had ever been before. Before her, she beheld the King and Queen of her daydreams, the monarchs that were depicted in the drawing she gave Ansell so long ago.
“You’re real,” Anne stated, still dumbfounded.
“They’re real!” Ansell laughed, jumping up to give Anne a kiss. “The people of your drawing! They are so very real! Anne, I would like you to meet the King and Queen of Rêver Paix.”
Anne joyfully knelt and bowed her head low before the rulers, whose crowns were adorned with jewels in the shape of the symbol on the Dreambook. “You gave me the book? Why?” she asked, standing back up. “What has happened to me?”
The King answered, “Anne. You have a special gift inherited from your ancestor Rosa, who was a Peace-Giver. Peace-Givers have the blood of the Cherubim, the guards of the sacred, in their veins, a trait which exists only among the Jews. Your bloodline combined with the exceptional amount of innocence and purity in your soul allows you to use the sacred peace magic. You are the last of the Peace-Givers’ race.”
Anne began to shake with uncertainty and excitement and joy. Ansell walked over and held her tightly as the King continued.
“You have a powerful eye for beauty and a superior ability to imagine peace. The Enemy of Peace, our nemesis, has darkened the hearts of the Nazis, blinding them to the humanity of your people, the Jews, in order to eliminate the race of Peace-Givers, and he nearly has. But you can help us fix this atrocity. You are the most powerful dreamer we have ever encountered.”
The King shifted his gaze to Ansell. “And Ansell, once we restored you from the Nazi’s brainwashing, we saw revealed the most courageous heart in the land, which will provide the power for Anne’s peace-giving. You have the blood of Seraphim, the fiery ones of God, in your veins. This trait is only found in Aryan bloodlines. Your great-grandfather was like you. That’s why the symbol seemed familiar to you. He kept a version of it on his wall. Together, you can do a great deal of good. We allowed you to struggle for two years, Anne, to strengthen your abilities to imagine and draw peace. And Ansell, we allowed you time to increase your courage. But now, you are both finally ready to fulfill your destiny,” said the King.
“How do I go about this task exactly?” Anne asked, eagerness welling up inside her chest.
The King explained, “Now that you have entered our magical kingdom, we can grant you the ability to invade the hearts of men and fill them with the magnificent pictures in your imagination, the images of peace. You, along with Ansell, whom we also recruited, can direct the course of this heinous war and help free your people from oppression. We will direct you towards the brave, Soviet soldiers who are to release your people from their captivity in Poland, then we will slowly make our way across Europe. Are you ready for this responsibility, Anne Frank?”
Anne’s heart overflowed with shimmering light. She had finally found the purpose of her daydreams and drawings, the purpose of her life. The blood of angels was in her veins. The sensation of joy and belonging was entirely worth all the years of hardship. Ansell took her hand and smiled. Bolts of light flew between them, and Anne knew their love, their desire for peace, along with a touch of magic, could conquer all darkness and restore the world to peace.
