Well, yes, read the story and it’s obvious, it’s that Adolf I've put in this gnarly netherworld to the left of Hell, just for the fun of it. Adding Death Metal as a soundtrack, that’s just where my head was at that time. But the real question beyond the obvious--that Adolf Hitler is sitting in a corner, constantly wringing his hands, while the music blares and the nameless swirl counterclockwise in that pit--is: who is the narrator?
The narrator is a mystery. The narrator is infamous. Yet, though it’s never out and out stated who the narrator is, it should be easy to figure out. I’ll blame Harlan Ellison for that one; yeah, him again.
I remember an Ellison story, though the title escapes me and my research has failed to provided any clarity (and the books are buried in boxes in the back; soon to be dismantled and downsized boxes), in which the twist at the ending led to the revelation that the main character within the story and receiving some trinket or what-not from a curious curio shop owner was an infamous figure in the annals of murder and mayhem, circa late 1960s, and utilized that element in leaving the narrator’s identity to those who pay attention.
Really, it’s rather obvious...
It’s odd for me to feature some of the short fiction from years ago, they are more snapshots of where I was at that time as a writer and person; where I am now, especially with the longer work and novels, is light years beyond these lil’ dollops of dread. Nonetheless, they can amuse, this one does (I can actually read it and not cringe) and, if you choose to dip in and read it, let me know if you are paying attention.
Tell me: who is the narrator? It's a short story, about 1400 words, give it a spin.
Here’s the link to the defunct ezine that featured it, still drifting in the margins of cyberspace .