r/Writingprompts

Written 2015

[WP] You go back in time to kill Hitler. You find him studying to become an artist, he then asks for your opinion on his work.

That feeling of godly power surging through your body as you realize that you are about to kill the man behind the second world war, is immense. "This'll be a cakewalk"- I thought, Hitler will not yet rise to the powerful leader he will be for another few years. I ask an old austrian man the direction to Vienna and he raises his hand to point to the distant horizon. " A few miles from here" he said in German. I thanked him and went on my way, brimming with ecstasy. After all... I will be the one to put down the future fuhrer of Germany.

Vienna was biting the winter chill as it fought to keep warm in the frosty weather. While everyone was freezing I was kept warm by my burning ambition and of course, my clothes.

"Is this really the place?"- I thought, a famed mass murderer living in such a small cramped apartment? "You've gotta be kidding me". I double checked the address and came to know that this indeed was the place. "Well, time to go in make history"

I knocked on the door a couple of times, the sound of my hand on the wooden door reverberating throughout the cramped hallway. "Come in" I heard, as i opened the door I was astounded. No maps of europe and the world, no blueprints for world domination and no piles of paper. Just him... and an easel with a painting. "The fuck? Am I in the right place?", I thought to myself.

"Excuse me but umm... Do you go by the name Adolf Hitler by any chance?, I asked.

"Yes and do I know you? Or are you here to take a look at my paintings perhaps?"

Confused, I said "Yeah, I mean yes I am."

I sat down next to him as he showed me his paintings, beautiful and astounding... yet with an air of depression.

"So, how are they?", He... Hitler said.

"They're... good..."

"Thank you, you're the first person I'm hearing that from."

After that we chatted and he told me everything about his life, from his abusive and traumatic childhood to him thinking he was a failure of an artist. It was sad, everything about his life seemed so melancholic. His mother died when he was 18 and his abusive father when he was 13. It struck me, him and I were not so different. We both shared similar backgrounds coming from abusive families. We both were struggling to do something and failing at it. We were both easily defeated.

"So will you buy my work?"

"Yes... how much"

"2,000 Krone"

"Okay" I rummaged through my wallet and gave him the 3000 krones the foundation gave to me for basic needs.

"It's 2000 sir."

"Keep it as a tip"

I looked at the painting and then back at the apartment. I walked out with the painting in my hands and into the snow-covered street, unsure of what to do now.