| Story page 1 |
| The author Lynne Reid Banks penned a wonderful and warm story about a boy, a magic cupboard, and a toy indian. It was called The Indian in the Cupboard. It was made into a terrific movie, and I enjoyed it very much. Now with my deepest apologies to the author, I present my own warped take on the tale. I hope you find it worth your time . I do not know how long this story will turn out to be, as it is still being written. New chapters will be added as they are completed. I suspect the content will be rather violent, Those familiar with my, Boy in the City story, from Mega Boys volume one, can attest to my violent streak. I do not recomend this for younger readers. And now, without further introduction, let us begin with my new story, Hitler in the Cupboard by Ivor |
| The single incandescent bulb hanging from the center of the bunker would swing back and forth, as the explosions got closer. The swinging made the whole room seem to rock back and forth, the yellow bulb casting swaying shadows revealed in it's pale light, the two figures lying on the floor. One was a dog, lying still, with a bloody hole in it's side. The blood in the yellow light, looked like a oil stain, robbed of color, it formed a black puddle.. Across the room, in an unnatural position lie Eva, sweet Eva, a spreading crimson pool formed around the back of her skull. Killing his brave dog had been hard, the pup was a good dog, and would have lived a good six years more. Killing Eva was the second hardest thing he had ever done in his life. "Eva, my sweet little bird," he thought to himself," is this your reward, for knowing me, and being dear to my heart?" A tear rolled down from the corner of his eye, he took off his glasses and wiped his eye. Where had it all gone wrong? He was loved and adored by his people, they would do anything for their Furer. He held the power to build his country, Other nations paid attention to his dynamic leadership, His enemy's, damn them all, felt his might. He was admired and feared. It was not an easy life, and he worked hard to get where his ambition led him, but now, at the height of his power, his empire was in ashes, and here he was, hiding in a bunker in his capitol city with the wolves at the door. His hand was shaking as he examined the blue steel luegar he held in his grip, A fine precision tool, he thought, German made. The chamber and barrel were still giving off warmth from the recent discharged bullets. A bomb exploded, closer now, than any of the others, dust and plaster fell from the ceiling, the noise of the blast caused a ringing in his ear. His journal sat on the lone table in the center of the room, he had made his last entry, and now with the Russian troops approaching, the thing he feared most was being taken prisoner. The Russians were dogs, and he would not be treated well by them. For his honor, for the honor of the fatherland, he would do the only thing he could. He brought the steel barrel up to his right temple. It felt sharp and warm just above his ear, He felt his Artery in his temple pulse, bringing blood to his brain, the hard metal pressed against his temple, he angled it to point to the back of his head. "It is not fair, I was their G-d," he reasoned," They will realize it and my name will be praised again, History will record my greatness" Eva's cold eyes beckoned him, he took a few deep breaths, " It is the fault of the Jews, and their G-d, damn them," he cursed" damn them all!" His ears never heard the reverberations of the shot, nor did they hear the pistol clattering on the floor beside his inert body. Continue reading. |