Stuff of Nightmares: A Collection of Short Horror Stories

Crossroads

Two figures formed before me, identical in swamping cloaks, showing little except pointed chins and upcurved smiles. In normal circumstances I would have been wary. I couldn't even tell if they were male or female -- not that it mattered. I was dead, after all.

"Good man," said the figure on the left with a voice that rumbled the earth, "we are the guardians of the crossroads. We welcome you."

"Please, kind man," said the other with a voice that lilted like a folk song, "tell us about your life. Have you done great things of benefit to mankind? Have you lived your life to the fullest?"

"I have done many great things," I said slowly. The memories of my life returned: the passionate speeches, the roaring crowds. "My people struggled. Our former enemies oppressed us, violating trust, benefiting only the rich and leaving the poor to struggle. We were given many excuses and my people suffered for it. We had no rights, no properties, no space."

"I am saddened to hear that," said the low voice. "It is heartbreaking to hear the selfishness of man and those who are forced to fight."

"But we did." My tone steeled. "Actions have consequences. We could not see a way out. Peace was all we ever wanted, but it came with a price. I led my people to the light, eliminating those who oppressed us. We recognised those who seek our downfall, those who tarnish our people, those who will ruin us -- and we rid the world of them."

"I like the sound of that," said the light-voiced one. "And how did you achieve that?"

"I evoked change. The old generation could not see a new world, but the young could, so I aligned with them, with our like minds. Many sacrificed for that greater good. Other countries did not understand our values, but they soon crumbled beneath our will. To benefit the majority, for a secure society that ran by the strong, with no disruptions, where our blood was not dirtied by the tarnished, it was a worthy price despite the risk and resistance."

I sighed. It would have been a great success had the tides not changed.

"I was willing to go the furthest to ensure victory. The weak fell away, but the strongest remained. Cities became heaps of ruins. But we had no fear of annihilation."

"You led strong people, my friend."

"It was my sacred duty."

The light-voiced one leant forward, grinning with rows of sharp teeth. He seemed the most intrigued, unlike his companion.

"Well?" I said, impatient. "I tried to make the world a better place. I made a difference. Am I going to heaven or not?"

"Heaven?" The grin spread wider. It was then I noticed his cloak folds seemed to emanate a heaviness, as if I were staring down into an abyss. "Oh, no. Your hands wear the blood of over six million people. There's a special place for you where I'm from, my friend."  

Word count: 500 words for ParanormalCommunity's writing contest

A/N: the author does not condone fascism, racism, Nazism, warfare, genocide, or any of Hitler's values. This was merely a writing exercise where I put myself in the mind of someone else to learn to write convincing villains' motivations.