The Celebrated Forgotten

The Celebrated Forgotten

The opera played solemnly as the Fuhrer together with his renegade marched to the rostrum; he marched with the honor of being the leader of the world, though he didn’t feel much like it, he knew he had trespassed his boundaries and broken the pact of the Axis (Japan and Italy) negotiation of invading UK, The United States. He remembered how he had felt when he was declared Man of the Year of the Times Magazine, he smiled briefly and watched his girlfriend began to move forwards with her chief brides, only his mind smiled, he felt his nose crinkle, he hated it, everybody had complained about his expressionless face, they wouldn’t have if they have learnt his history by heart, if they had known about the clash between him and his father; Alois Hitler, the death of his brother, Edmund, the death of his family and his transferred from homes to homes.
“… you take his woman as your lawfully wedded wife” the clergyman said,
“I do!” he replied
“Miss Eva Braun, do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband” the clergyman said
“yes I do, to love and to behold, till death do us part” Miss Eva, a German by birth, a white haired woman of 33 years, a seamstress by profession, today was her happiest day, she had dreamt about it since she had been working as a school teacher, she is a bright lady with blue colored eyeballs, her simplicity must have attracted the Fuhrer, but again and again, some loyal lieutenants to the Fuhrer often reminds him about her suicidal attempt twice, The Fuhrer was a king of person she would like to spend eternity with.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss your bride” the soldiers who witnessed the holy kiss clapped their hands with wine glasses hitting each other on the jaw, wines flowed freely.
“Hail Fuhrer” everybody chorused with their arms stretched, an army commander came to whisper in the ears of the Fuhrer, and they both marched into a nearby room, the bunker was made of thirty rooms and about 2,700 square feet, he trusted his wit, the commander informed him of the death of his fellow dictator; Benito Mussolini of Italy, sweat began to foam on his brows, he paced for a minute, what if they are coming for him next, he had planned to hide in his elaborate bunker till this dark time pass him by, he barged into the ceremony, and the walls became mute, he began
“The wars are enclosed on us, so everybody take charge, and eschew every fear in your hearts, Wife! Let’s have a word together” he said and went into their previously prepared room, the worried wife entered and wished she hadn’t heard what his husband said “the best bravery is to commit suicide, we can’t be humiliated by our enemies, let them wine and dine at our death, they have forgotten that our beginnings were rough, we do not seek ablution but the justification of our bravery, let’s leave now my love, those comrades you see are but lamb waiting to be slaughtered, let’s leave now while the day is ripe” he said,
“Till death do us part!” she said, she was finally happy that she would die for what she believed in, his husband brought out Cyanide, “drink some, it will end our pains” his wife drank and fell on the instant, he wished he had justification for his actions, but he knew his death would be a gift to the world and the best present to the Jews, he drank the remaining portion, he wished to never be forgotten but it seems darkness and fate had played the cruel game of winning him to the dark side, the tragedy of his being is revealed in his hatred for the Jews, if he could paint the world again, he wouldn’t change any portion of his history except for the tragedy of his childhood and his loss to light, he began to vomit blood, he hadn’t regretted his life but has regretted the essence of his being, he wouldn’t be a tragic-hero but a man who died for his believe of one race for Germany. He shot himself in the head, and his carcasses annoyed the dead. He was burnt to celebrate the victory of the world, but he couldn’t hide his intentions it s now imprinted in all history books. It is his struggle.

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