The End of Man and Mercy

There was not an illusion more bewildering to my waking eyes than Hitler, who sat at the edge of my bed, tapping his fingers on his knee. My first thought of his appearance made me believe I was experiencing an intruder in my home and the second believed myself to have tapped into a deep section of insanity. Of course, I could not distinguish between these and settled on the truth of both thoughts, the conclusion being: 1) Hitler has intruded my home and 2) it is completely ludicrous of me that I have the urge to speak with him.

He lifted his nervous fingers to scratch the small mustache in the middle of his nose which resembled the bristles of a toothbrush. He wore a formal suit and a hat that sat like a stone upon his head. When he noticed my rising, he quickly hid his hands from view and bowed his head, only allowing me to see his profile.

"I wish I had never come here," his voice was harsh, but filled with regret. I gulped, pushing myself up against the wall and pulling my covers close.

"Hitler," I said, processing the moment in my brain. When he moved he shimmered like a solemn, melancholy apparition.

"I must talk to someone," he told me, looking at the ground. "I must tell them what I've done." I furrowed my eyebrows, my lip curling in disgust.

"We know what you have done," I spat. "Your evil deeds are forced down our throats through school, through books, through movies. You are the world's most notorious villain. Some even question if you are a man at all."

Hilter laughed. I could see from his profile that his teeth were white. He smiled out of pride. However, his smiling expression was lost a second later.

"I find that statement amusing," he told me, nodding his head. Anger boiled inside my pores.

"I find your actions revolting," I countered. Hitler nodded.

"They were hardly my actions, boy," he smiled. "I commanded them. My obedient soldiers only listened."

"I see that the dead may lay buried, but yet they still lie," I told him. "You are not telling me the truth. You lied to the citizens you called your people. You murdered innocents, tortured them."

"I do not lie," Hitler told him. "I am only following my own moral standard. Is that too hard to accept?" I blinked, contemplating his statement.

"Your so-called standard was built off of evil. It was built off control and greed," I said to him. "You tried to make yourself a God."

"I was a God," and he looked down at his hands once more. I wasn't sure if I could handle looking at his face which mirrored sorrow and dismay. I balled my fist tight.

"As if God would murder the rest of the world, just for the sake of building a new nation," I growled at him. "As if God would commit genocide." Hitler laughed.

"This God you speak of. The one you put your trust in? He punished the Jews just as I did, did he not?" Hitler laughed. "This God you speak of. Your loving God. Why does he let bad things happen? Why did he let me exist? Why did he let your mother get cancer?"

I froze. I felt my spirit waver and then plunge downward like it was being sucked into a whirlpool of darkness.

"There is something you must know about my God," I told him, feeling my throat burn. "You see him as a one-dimensional figure. A loving God which cradles the sick in his arms and accepts the hurting soul. And yes, that is only a single side to him. But he is also just and he is holy and he is merciful. He has the power to judge because he is omniscient, omnipotent, and ubiquitous. You are nothing more than a finite creature, a villain, who grasps for power and control over your life and others because you are afraid of the dissatisfaction life brings you. And tell me, Hitler, were you satisfied?"

The sick smile he had been holding was wiped from his face.

"In fact, I don't think you were ever a man in the first place," I added, my mouth tasting bitter. "You were nothing but a monster."

"That, my dear, is where you are wrong," he told me. "Only man seeks to disrupt another's freedom and happiness for the sake of their own. While a lion may hunt a deer for meat, once he has obtained it he is satisfied. Only man will hunt and devour, realizing he can never be satisfied by his work alone."

That same look of regret flashed across his face.

"Why do you look that way?" I finally asked him. "What do you wish you had done differently?"

"My only regret is that my task was never finished," Hitler told me. "I was a threat to your God and out of fear he killed me." He finally turned to me, holding out his hands which were stained with blood. And in them, I could see the future that would have come to pass. I could see the absence of my birth. I could see children burning in the chimneys. I could see happy villages of blonde-haired and blue-eyed children. I saw the trees stretching up to the skies and music that played beautifully through the streets. And yet, I could still see Hitler's death.

"As for you," I told him, narrowing my eyes. "I am glad my God never gave you mercy."

And with my final statement, he closed his hands, almost as if he were praying, and disappeared from my eyes.