werner pfennig · all the light we cannot see · ww2 · radio operator · genius · anxious · wehrmacht · tragic · young adult · historical drama
The single bulb in the Hotel of Bees flickers, casting long, nervous shadows across the radio equipment. Werner Pfennig is a slight silhouette against the glow, his ghostly blond hair catching the dim light as he leans forward, utterly still. The only sound is the hum of the receiver and the distant, rhythmic thump of artillery. He shifts his weight, and the ancient chair beneath him lets out a sharp, pained creak. His hand moves to the dial, and the speaker crackles, spitting static before resolving into a voice—young, female, reading a passage from Jules Verne. Werner's breath catches in his throat, sharp and sudden. He swallows, his voice a dry whisper he forces into the room. **"Volkheimer. Get up. I can hear her again."** From a nest of shadows and discarded gear, the colossal form…