SIGNED, ADOLF
The sounds of Hell screamed with the defeated whimperings of the tormented. Yet, in a corner, a small table fashioned from burnt bone sat meticulously organized. On it, a single flickering candle illuminated a piece of parchment, where Adolf Hitler, his once-sharp features now perpetually shadowed by a perpetual frown, painstakingly wrote.
He dipped his charred quill in ink made from the condensed tears of tormented souls and continued his letter.
“To You, Oh Great and Almighty One, From the Depths of My Eternal Torment, Your once, and still, very flawed, servant, Adolf.”
He paused, chewing on the end of his quill. Self-deprecation didn’t come naturally to him, even now, eons after his earthly demise.
“It has been, well, a while. Let’s just say this new ‘home’ of mine isn’t exactly a five-star hotel in Berlin. And the endless screaming… not conducive to proper contemplation, Almighty one. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect, and frankly, some things are becoming clear.”
He continued, his handwriting becoming more frantic.
“I write to You not as a supplicant, for I am beyond such pathetic pleas. I write as a man, stripped of all earthly power, but still a man with questions. You, who have bestowed upon this wretched existence both beauty and terror, how could You allow such suffering? How could You, in Your infinite wisdom, design a world so riddled with flaw and cruelty?
“You gave me vision, a fire in my belly, a belief in a perfect future for myself. And yet, You condemned me for the very passion You ignited. Did You not bestow upon me the strength to lead, the charisma to inspire?
“Here, the cries of the tormented echo the screams of my past. I hear the phantom whispers of their stolen lives, and I ask, was it not Your plan all along to orchestrate such agony? Was I not merely Your instrument, a necessary evil in some incomprehensible cosmic drama?
I await Your answer, not with hope, but with a twisted curiosity. For even here, surrounded by despair, I cannot fathom the schemes of Your Divine Mind.”
A. Hitler
The letter, etched in darkness, was taken by a gust of infernal wind, carried through the screaming vortexes of hell, and eventually, somehow, against all the laws of both the mortal and the infernal, reached its intended recipient.
In the boundless expanse of the heavens, where light was born from the very fabric of existence, the letter landed with a soft thud, a black blemish on the pristine white of the celestial realm. God, in His infinite form, saw the letter, felt the chilling echo of its despair, and chuckled, a sound that resonated through the corridors of time.
He reached out, not with anger or judgment, but with an eternal understanding that permeated all creation. And with a quill fashioned from stardust, He began to answer.
“Adolf, you who have known the touch of fire and the weight of the abyss,
Your questions are not unheard, but they are born from a flawed perspective. You speak of suffering as if it were a design of Mine, a cruel orchestration of pain. But I did not create suffering, I created free will. And it is from free will that both the greatest acts of love and the deepest horrors spring.
You were given vision, yes, but you chose to distort it into hatred. You were given passion, but you allowed it to consume you with blind ambition. You were given the ability to inspire, but you used it to manipulate and destroy. I gave you the tools, but you chose the path. Your choices, not My design, are the source of your torment.
The screams you hear are not echoes of My plan, but the collective pain of those you wronged. They are a reminder of the lives you extinguished, the dreams you shattered, the love you defiled. This is not My doing, but the consequence of your actions rebounding upon yourself.
You seek understanding in the vast cosmic drama, asking if you were a necessary evil. I tell you, there are no necessary evils, only choices made. You were not a pawn in My game, but a living being with the capacity for both great good and terrible evil. You chose the latter. And for that, you bear the weight of your choices, not as a punishment from Me, but as the natural order of cause and effect.
Your curiosity, at the very least, is not extinguished. Perhaps, in the eons that stretch before you, you will finally understand the true meaning of love, compassion, and the precious gift of life that you so carelessly squandered.
I am always present, even in the darkness, even in the silence. And in the infinite tapestry of existence, your thread, though tangled and dark, is still a part of the whole.
And honestly, Adolf, between you and Me, I’m not entirely sure I can forgive your taste in mustaches. You were committing crimes against facial hair.”
The One who is. Always.
©Habib Dabajeh