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The Invisible Man: Crusade against Hitler (Short Story)

**The Invisible Man: Crusade Against Hitler is a short work of historical fiction – a short story loosely, and very loosely, inspired by H.G. Wells’ 1896 classic novel.

“The Invisible Man: Crusade against Hitler,” unfolds during the 1940s, at the height of World War II. While the original novel follows a scientist named Griffin, who renders himself invisible through scientific experimentation, our story retains elements of isolation, loneliness, egotism, self-defense, cruelty, and compassion. Griffin now a hero, hell bent on revenge against the Nazis and Hitler and invisibility the means at getting to them.

Although our short story pays homage to some of the themes and science fiction aspects introduced by H.G. Wells so marvelously, it also presents unique twists and turns and a more modern reading that may be both cringey and cliché at times, yet hopefully intriguing, suspenseful, or thought-provoking.

Written by Franz Bradford

Chapter 1

The stranger arrived unexpectedly in February, during the winter’s last snowfall. Battling the biting wind, he walked from the high-speed rail tunnel toward Lodz, Warsaw. Dressed from head to foot, snow piled against his shoulders and chest, adding to the burden he carried. Staggering into the Vienna House, he set down his leather case and approached the front desk.

“Are there any rooms available with a fireplace?” he asked, brushing snow from his lapel.

“Yes, but it’s one of our suites and comes at an additional cost,” the receptionist replied.

He nodded, and she began the process of renting him the room for the night.

“I’ve left some luggage at the rail station,” he added. Bowing his bandaged head politely, he inquired about delivery options. She explained that the hotel lacked a delivery service and suggested he would need to retrieve it himself.

However, he chose not to go and instead lingered in the hotel lobby until 2:00 am without providing any explanation for not retiring to his room.

At this point, the receptionist was growing uneasy about the man and finally asked, “Is there a reason you’re not getting your things or not retiring to your room?” Her tone carried a marked coldness.

“I should explain,” he finally said, “I was too cold and fatigued to talk before; I apologize. The truth is, I’m an inventor, or, as some call me, an experiment investigator.”

“Ok, fine,” she responded with convinced skepticism.

“And my luggage contains my apparatus and appliances that I need to perform my experiments.”

“Very useful things indeed. Then why aren’t you going to get them?” She inquired with a hint of sarcasm.

“The reason I came to the hotel,” he proceeded, “if you must know, was a desire for solitude. I don’t much care to be disturbed in my work. In addition to my work, an accident—”

She cut him off. “I’d gladly leave you alone,” she said to herself, but loud enough for him to hear.

He continued, “An accident caused a certain retirement. My eyes are sometimes so weak and painful that I have to shut myself up in the dark for hours. And if I am disturbed, by anyone, including the cleaning maids, it can really cause me problems.”

“Certainly, sir,” she responded, trying to maintain professionalism. “We will leave you alone.”

With that explanation, he left the hotel for the train station. Given the late hour of the night, the Nazi guards had slackened their watch, and he maneuvered through the shadows adeptly enough to go unnoticed while carrying the large cases. Upon returning to the Vienna House, he retired for the night.

Chapter 2

I haven’t revealed much about the stranger’s arrival in Lodz. Up to this point in the story, the reader lacks context to understand this mysterious man—his identity, purpose for being here, and the goals of his experiments. The title seems to hold more information than the unfolding narrative.

The year was 1941, and Hitler had transformed Lodz and much of Warsaw into a Nazi ghetto. Fences were erected around much of the city, and the Nazis terrorized anyone within their borders. Rumors circulated that they had initiated deportations of Jews from Lodz to the Chelmno killing center. The Vienna House stood as one of the few remaining hotels considered safe. Not because the Nazis didn’t monitor people coming and going, but due to their practice of sheltering their own and deploying active spies on the premises. It was owned by the Nazis and they kept prices high to benefit. 

Upon checking into the Vienna House, the stranger kept to his room, causing little disturbance. For the first few weeks he paid his bills punctually and extended his stay promptly when needed. The maids and the Nazis left him largely undisturbed, and the hotel service department refrained from prying into his affairs.

However, as time passed, the stranger’s peculiar habits raised some attention. He avoided conversation, rarely ventured outside during daylight, and when he did, he took desolate paths covered by trees and banks. Draped in goggling spectacles and scarves covering his head and face, he often explored the city at night, resembling someone scouting it out for an impending invasion. Initially, the Nazis dismissed him as a lunatic and strange looking for sure, but harmless to them and at least he paid his bills on time.

Yet, as concerns grew about the stranger’s presence, the Gestapo decided to take action, reaching out to the Nazi police for a thorough investigation. Initially, the receptionist at the Vienna House defended the mysterious individual, labeling him as an “experiment investigator” involved in “discovering things.” However, her stance swiftly changed when the Nazi officer resorted to threats.

When questioned by the Gestapo, the receptionist, now less defensive, expressed nervousness about the stranger. The Nazi official probed further, asking, “What is making you nervous Mam?”

“I’ve never seen him, not his face at least, he’s always so covered up. Scares my customers…” she responded.

The officer assured her, “We will look into this immediately,” adopting a stern tone. Despite the receptionist’s initial defense, she couldn’t dismiss the unsettling feeling caused by the stranger’s concealed appearance.

A hint of sadness crept over the receptionist as she considered the potential consequences for the stranger, realizing that he might face arrest, imprisonment or death in the chamber. In a quiet moment, she wanted to speak a few words in his favor, murmuring, “To be fair, he is soft-spoken and somewhat kind.” However, the officer paid no attention to her sentiments.

“What room number is he in?” The officer jumped in without expression.

“Room 241, but he’s already left for the night.”

Chapter 3

Dr. Kemp was a renowned scientist in Lodz, celebrated for his pioneering research on refraction of light and manipulating its passage between mediums to distort object visibility. His scientific pursuits led to prestigious accolades, including the Nobel Prize for his discovery of interstellar objects orbiting central stars in our galaxy that remain unseen by the naked eye.

Dr. Kemp was also a Jew and under Nazi observation. Close observation, given his prestige and connections with the western world.

“I’m a bit restless tonight, feeling slightly uneasy,” he muttered while tidying his office to gather materials for the next day’s lecture. With most colleagues already departed as dinnertime approached, an uncharacteristic silence filled the science wing.

As a highly observant man courtesy of his scientific training, Dr. Kemp noticed a dark spot on the hallway’s linoleum mat near the stairwell during his return. Pausing to inspect the spot’s irregularity, he bent down and touched the substance, identifying remnants of dried blood. Surveying his surroundings in an effort to explain the curious blood spot, his attention shifted to an astonishing revelation – the door handle to his personal office bore similar bloody smudges.

Confused yet composed, Dr. Kemp entered his office, scanning for anything unusual. On his desk near his computer was another blood stain, this time wet and fresh. He froze momentarily, struck by the peculiarity of it all. An eerie sensation emerged, not of fear in the experienced academic, but unease regarding potentially dire implications.

Then, oddly, he thought he detected a muted voice utter “Dr. Kemp it’s me Griffin.” While no believer in disembodied voices, flickers of recognition lit in hearing that name from the past. “Dr. Kemp!” the voice repeated more vigorously.

“Who’s there and what do you want?” Dr. Kemp replied firmly, still actively canvassing the room.

“It’s Griffin, your former pupil,” the voice explained. “Don’t be scared. I’m an invisible man now and desperately need your help.”

Sensing sincerity in the appeal, Dr. Kemp lowered his guard slightly, yet remained wary. Dim recollections of an eccentric albino student who excelled in chemistry class surfaced in his mind, matching the voice’s claims thus far.

“Where are you then? Show yourself,” Dr. Kemp insisted, inching toward his crowbar that he kept tucked in the office corner. Quick-thinking and resolute as always, he discreetly took grip of it in case of danger. After all, he was no frail professor, still boasting an able swing. And unless this self-proclaimed vanishing Griffin arrived armed, he felt reasonably confident if confronted.

The window slowly creaked open, and a napkin from Dr. Kemp’s desk gracefully lifted into the air before being flung out. The window then closed.

Witnessing this inexplicable display, Dr. Kemp, momentarily staggered, found his way to his office chair and collapsed into its leather cushions. Battling the shock of the spectacle, he pulled the lever and reclined into a fully prone position.

It took time to recover and collect himself and finally Dr. Kemp was able to ask:

“But how was it all done?” said Kemp, “and how did you get like this?”

Chapter 4

“You are safe here. Tell me what is going on? How did you get like this?” Dr. Kemp asked the invisible man.

Utterly drained yet cautiously vigilant about maintaining secrecy, Griffin declined Dr. Kemp’s offer of refuge without first securing specific assurances. Despite his weakened state, he methodically inspected the bedroom windows, ensuring a potential escape route by raising the blinds and opening both sashes. Surveying the silent, still night and the waning new moon, Griffin seemed satisfied with the available exits, anticipating potential complications in his meeting with his former mentor.

Proceeding with meticulous attention to detail, he examined each keyhole and door of the adjacent dressing rooms, seeking assurances that his invisible presence couldn’t be confined against his will. Despite being unseen, Griffin was still bound by the limitations of a permeable body that couldn’t pass through walls. If confined, he would be unable to escape.

“I intended to keep this a secret, but I’ve become desperate. If you assist me, you’ll uncover the most profound scientific secrets ever discovered. And with your help, I can defeat Hitler.”

“Let me sleep in your office for the night. I cannot talk, I am completely drained of energy. But what I’ve discovered….I need a partner. And you….We can work this out together. But, tomorrow. I must sleep, or I will die. Please don’t let them find out.”

Dr. Kemp stood in the middle of the room staring at emptiness, but he heard the voice. He walked sideways to the door. “How can I possibly help you, you’re already invisible?” Dr. Kemp retorted before leaving.

“Put me in contact with Heinz.   I know you know him.” Griffin commented as Dr. Kemp closed the door softly behind him and turned the key to lock it.

“Am I dreaming or hallucinating or dying?” “Have I gone mad?” He chuckled to himself and put his hand to the locked door of his office. “Locked out of my office by someone that’s not even in there.” He walked to the head of the staircase, turned, and stared back at the locked door. “But, maybe there is….?”

He shook his head hopelessly and turned downstairs, left the building and walked towards his apartment.

“Invisible!” He repeated to himself incredulously. “Ha”, “It’s absurd.” “I’ve gone mad.”

“How does he know Heinz? If the Germans found out that Heinz was compromised we would all be dead.”

“Is there such a thing as invisibility? In the sea, yes, thousands, millions. All the larvae, the microscopic things, even the jellyfish. In the sea, there are more things invisible than visible! I never thought of that before. Even in the ponds! All those little pond-life things, specks of colorless translucent jelly! But on land, in the air, in the open, as a human? No! It can’t be.”

Dr. Kemp arrived at his apartment, greeted by a Nazi wielding a large firearm. The Nazi peered down at him, and Dr. Kemp responded with a half-hearted smile.

“But, maybe?” He hesitated. “No, absolutely not. This Griffin is maniacal, and he’s manipulating my senses. I remember him as a student. Brilliant, yes. But unlikeable, reclusive, and shocking to look at. He must be mad, and now he’s dragging me into it. But what of this killing Hitler nonsense? It can’t be done, can it? He hasn’t asked me for money; it’s not extortion. At least he hasn’t yet. All he says he wants is Heinz? I can’t give him Heinz? Can I? I should tell someone. I must. If we breathe a word about Heinz being on our side, we’re all dead. All of us.”

The possibilities kept Dr. Kemp most of the night, a mix of fear and nervousness, somehow still anticipating the next day.

Chapter 5

Heinz embodied the appearance and rhetoric of a Nazi, yet he remained distinct from their ranks. He was too intelligent, too cultured, too humane to partake in their destructive agenda. Originating from Sharpsburg, Pennsylvania, he hailed from wealth but eschewed its trappings, living for the betterment of humanity, according to Dr. Kemp.

Both Heinz and Dr. Kemp excelled in their studies, graduating with honors from Oxford in 1915. Heinz’s brilliance in engineering led him to Volkswagen, where he played a pivotal role in developing the groundbreaking Beetle, integrating a fan to regulate engine temperature effectively. Not merely an engineer, he also served as a trusted aide to Hitler’s top echelon, including the Führer himself.

Despite the distance, Heinz maintained communication with Dr. Kemp, sharing vital intelligence about the impending invasion and the movements of German high command. Dr. Kemp, mindful of the danger, kept Heinz’s involvement hidden and guarded their secret communications with his life.

Chapter 6

Dr. Kemp awoke the following morning in a haze, feeling like he’d just rebooted after passing out. His mind grappled with discerning reality as he ambled to the entrance and hastily left his apartment to return to his office.

The Gestapo officer at the entrance of this apartment appeared to nod to the unmarked black vehicle across the street. As Dr. Kemp walked, the vehicle appeared to follow, maintaining a short distance.

Dr. Kemp finally reached his office and knocked on his door. The door swung open, revealing an empty room.

“Your secret’s exposed,” Dr. Kemp initiated the conversation with the invisible man. “It must have been a secret, and whatever your plans were, they’re onto you. They followed me here.”

The invisible man settled on the couch, leaving an unseen imprint with his weight. Despite his invisibility, Dr. Kemp addressed him directly.

“I brought you breakfast. I need to understand. How did you manage it?” Dr. Kemp took his place behind the desk, facing the spot where Griffin was seated.

“It’s quite simple, at least in scientific terms,” Griffin responded, breaking his silence for the day. His tone carried a sense of defeat, humility, yet not tension—more sadness, but enough resolve to continue.

“It seemed marvelous initially. Young and ambitious at twenty-two, I decided to dedicate my life to this, and I saw small steps, but I never really saw a breakthrough. Then the invasion took place, and it turned into an obsession.”

“Optical Density, Doctor. That’s the key. Optical Density.”

Griffin continued, “A fundamental principle involving pigments and refraction, a formula, a geometric expression encompassing four dimensions without altering the property of matter, except color, to lower the refractive index.”

“Got it,” Dr. Kemp responded, “I understand how you can use these principles to make a transparent agate appear invisible, but what you’ve achieved is far more complex.”

“Exactly,” Griffin concurred. “Remember, as you taught me, visibility hinges on how visible bodies interact with light. It either absorbs, reflects, or refracts light—or all three. If it does none of these, it remains invisible. Consider an opaque red box; it appears red to you because it absorbs some light and reflects the rest. But if it reflected all light without absorbing any, it would be a shining white box—silver! Thin common glass is hard to see in poor light, absorbing little and refracting minimal light. Submerging it in water or a denser liquid can make it nearly vanish, as the transition from water to glass involves minimal refraction or reflection. It’s as invisible as a jet of coal gas or hydrogen in air, for the same reason!”

“Yes,” affirmed Kemp, “that’s quite straightforward.”

“You render glass invisible by immersing it in a liquid with nearly the same refractive index. A transparent object becomes invisible when placed in a medium with an almost identical refractive index. If you think for a moment, you’ll see that something like glass powder could vanish in the air too if its refractive index matched that of the air. In that case, there would be no refraction or reflection as light transitioned from glass to air.”

“Yes, yes,” replied Kemp. “But a man isn’t powdered glass!”

“No,” Griffin retorted. “He’s more transparent!”

“Nonsense!”

“Coming from a doctor! How easily one forgets! Have you already neglected your physics in ten years? Consider all the transparent things that don’t appear so. Paper, for instance, consists of transparent fibers; it’s white and opaque for the same reason glass powder is. Oil white paper, fill the gaps between particles with oil, eliminating refraction or reflection except at the surfaces, and it becomes as transparent as glass. Paper, cotton fiber, linen fiber, wool fiber, woody fiber, bone, Kemp, flesh, Kemp, hair, Kemp, nails, and nerves, Kemp—the entire structure of a man, except the red blood and black hair pigment, is comprised of transparent, colorless tissue. It takes so little for us to be visible to one another. The fibers of a living creature are, for the most part, no more opaque than water.”

The invisible man rose and began pacing the office. “I knew that achieving this would surpass magic, but I was also certain it could be done. The key was the formula for pigments, lowering the refractive index enough to let light pass through without reflection or refraction. I didn’t sleep. I worked, labored, experimented. Then, as I was nearing the final breakthrough, the Nazis came to our door. They were harsh, their voices filled with disdain as they demanded that my father come with them. But he refused, holding my brother and I protectively back against our trembling mother. He knew where they intended to take him – he had heard the horrific rumors. If he had known that cooperating would have spared the rest of us, he likely would have gone. But he sensed we were next in their cruel designs. So he fought back defiantly, hitting, slapping, biting, desperately trying to wrest their weapons away. He was not a fighter, just a rail-thin man protecting his family. Yet he fought like a dragon.

The German voices haunt my memory, accusing him of the unforgivable crime of being a Jew, and nothing more. They mocked his feeble attempts at resistance. They grabbed him, dragged him out into the street as we watched helplessly. Then they shot him down without a shred of mercy and left his body there to rot in the street.

Chapter 7

For a moment Dr. Kemp sat in silence, staring at the back of Griffin, who had moved to the window.

“It was last December,” Griffin started abruptly, his face somber. “I remember the funeral, the cheap ceremony, the windy frost-bitten hillside, and the old college friend of his who gave the sermon – a shabby, bent old man sniveling with a cold. All while those Nazi bastards surrounded us, their presence spoiling whatever final rites and dignity should have been ours.”

“I remember walking with Mom back to the empty apartment, through the place that had once been my home and now was a patchwork of Nazi-managed tract blocks, filled with emptiness. Hateful Nazi faces stared at us as we moved by, but we were unaffected – our souls far removed from the fear of what more they could do to us.

“That desolate trek through our former life was when the breakthrough happened. My hobby turned into a singular determination, that obsession for revenge. But, I couldn’t do it without being invisible. So, one night I slipped away, leaving my grieving mother and young brother behind. I had to find a secure hideaway, completely alone and off the Nazis’ radar to finish my work. Only by disappearing could I hope to one day reappear and make the Nazis suffer as they did to me.”

An Eye for an Eye and a Tooth for a Tooth.

“One day, Dr. Kemp, I’ll explain everything to you, share the books, my notes, all of it. The key step involved lowering the refractive index between two centers of ethereal vibration. My initial experiment was with a piece of white wool fabric. It was the strangest sight—seeing it soft and white in the flicker of light, then watching it fade like smoke and disappear.”

“I was astounded by what I had achieved. When I reached into the void, the wool was still there, as solid as before. I touched it clumsily and then dropped it on the floor.”

“We had a cat, a scrawny, white, dirty little creature. I went to the window and called her. She came in, purring, the poor beast. I gave her some milk and made her comfortable. She came with me”

“And you processed her?” Dr. Kemp interjected.

“Yes, I processed her. But giving drugs to a cat is no joke. Dr. Kemp, the process failed in two ways.”

“Failed!”

“In two areas. The claws and that substance, what’s it called?—at the back of a cat’s eye. You know?”

“Tapetum.”

“Right, the tapetum. It didn’t work. After administering the substance to bleach the blood and performing certain other procedures, I gave the creature opium, and placed her and the pillow she was sleeping on, on the apparatus. But after everything else had disappeared, there remained two small ghostly images of her eyes.”

“You’re telling me there’s an invisible cat on the loose?” Kemp asked.

“Yes, yes, still with those eyes. It doesn’t venture out far from home.”

“Then, I applied the process to myself. It was a nightmare. I didn’t anticipate the agony. A collapsed world of intense pain, illness, and blackouts. I initiated the process to encompass my entire being, and it felt like I was ablaze. I lay there in utter torment. There were moments when I cried out, moaned, and rambled. But I endured…I lost consciousness and woke up weak in the pitch black.”

“When the traumatic pain eventually subsided I believed I was on the brink of death, and I was indifferent to it. I’ll always remember that morning; the eerie shock of seeing my hands turn translucent, gradually becoming clearer and more transparent as the hours passed. My limbs became glassy, the bones and arteries fading, then vanishing, and the little white nerves finally disappearing at last. I gritted my teeth and stayed there to the end. At last, only the dead tips of the fingernails remained, palled and white, and the brown stain of some acid upon my fingers.”

“I struggled up. Like a newborn baby, stepping with limbs I could not see. I was weak and very hungry. I stared at my nothingness in the mirror, save the attenuated pigment behind the retina of my eyes.”

“I slept the rest of that week, pulling the sheet over my eyes to shut out the light, until I was awakened by a knock at the door. At first just a whisper, but it sent a jolt of panic through me. I sprang to my feet and as noiselessly as possible began to detach the connections of my apparatus, distributing the components haphazardly about the room in a desperate attempt at concealment. My hands were trembling, my movements hurried and sloppy.

The knocks turned to heavy blows raining upon the door. I frantically searched for matches to destroy the evidence, knocking things around in my panicked state. I soaked some loose papers with oil, preparing to set them ablaze. Then with an explosive crack, the door panel split inward and the Gestapo barged into my hideaway, three of them with rifles at the ready.

Behind them fluttered that wretched old hag from downstairs – the one who had ratted me out, disclosing my whereabouts to the Nazis. No doubt she thought she was saving her own miserable life by betraying me.”

“You can imagine their astonishment to find the room empty. One of the younger men rushed to the window and flung it open and stared out. His thick lipped bearded face came a foot from mine. I was tempted to strike him. He stared right through me and so did the others as they joined him. The hag went and looked under my bed and in my closets.”

“I know he was just here”, she squealed, “I heard him rummaging about right before you came”, she continued desperately.

“I waited until they left, finding no “horrors” to speak of. Then I grabbed my box of matches, fired my heap of oiled up papers, put the chairs and bedding nearby and waved farewell to the room that I left for the last time.”

“You burned down the hotel!” Exclaimed Dr. Kemp.

“It was the only way to cover my trail, and no doubt it is insured. I slipped out quietly and went into the street. I was invisible, and I was only just beginning to realize the extraordinary disadvantages my invisibility gave me.”

Chapter 8

“Running down the stairs of the hotel, I found it unexpectedly difficult because I could not see my feet; I fell down many times. I felt however, as a seeing man does, with padded feet and noiseless clothes, in a city of the blind. I experienced a wild impulse to startle people, clap a man on the back, prank and jest, knock off a hat and watch the reaction.”

“But then a darker impulse resurfaced in my mind. The Gestapo officer that killed my father – the one with that insidious, sardonic smile that Satan himself must have taught him. A smile that belied utter soullessness, incapable of remorse for the generation he helped destroy. I knew his location, where he currently stationed himself in this occupied city. And I knew exactly what I was going to do to him.”

It was the first step in paying back a world that had been so cruel.

“But scarcely had I stepped into the bustling street when I heard a crashing impact and was violently hit from behind. I saw a man and a crowd rushing from the hotel. I attempted to join the stream of people, but they were too thick for me. I staggered into the street, avoiding the vehicles racing away and the fire trucks rushing to the scene. It was a bright day in January, and I found myself stark naked, covered in a thin slime drawn up by passing vehicles. I was freezing. Foolish as it might seem now, I hadn’t considered that I would be affected by the weather and its consequences. And the mud? To an onlooker, it must have seemed like mud splotches were floating around.”

“Then came men and boys running, first one and then others, shouting as they ran. It was a fire. The brave ones ran towards my hotel to rescue those running away. I saw a mass of black smoke streaming up above the roofs and telephone wires. The hotel was burning—my clothes, my apparatus, everything I owned, were there. Burning!”

“I had burnt my boats—if ever a man did! The place was blazing.”

The Invisible Man paused and reflected. Dr. Kemp glanced nervously out of the window. “Yes?” he said. “Go on.”

Chapter 9

“Living on the streets I soon began to realize,” said the Invisible Man, “the full disadvantage of my condition. I had no shelter and wasn’t protected by my invisibility from the effects of the elements. I couldn’t wear clothing because it would remove my advantage, people can still see my clothing. I wasn’t eating, for to eat, to fill myself with visible food, would be to become grotesquely visible again.”

“I never thought of all that,” said Dr. Kemp.

“Nor had I. And the snow. I couldn’t walk around when it snowed, it would settle on me and expose me. Rain, too, would make me a watery outline, a glistening surface of a man, a bubble. And fog, I was like a fainter bubble in a fog, a surface, a greasy glimmer of humanity. Moreover, as I walked the streets of Warsaw, dirt gathered about my ankles, floating smut and dust on my skin.”

“I endured for weeks, months, in this condition. It was horrendous yet invigorating. There were few positives to being invisible; I lacked the comforts to fully enjoy any perks. However, there was a loneliness that fueled my determination to persist. I had been alone before, unnoticed, but not like this. It was a contented loneliness, reminiscent of the solitude one might experience while hiking along undiscovered trails in uninhabited wilderness—a separation akin to what Moses might have felt on Sinai. It was just me and God, and though He seemed nowhere to be found, I felt something. It was as if, now that I was entirely empty, He could navigate through me to love Himself, and I could partake in that communion.”

I hunted down every Nazi monster within my reach. I’d sneak up, disarm them, and press their own 9mm against their hearts—not their heads. Have you not seen the headlines? One after another, they fell. The invisible hand turning their own weapon of war against them.

But soon, the killings weighed heavy on my conscience. Were these men, these boys, truly capable of such atrocities on their own? Or were they trapped in a relentless cycle of violence, stripped of their agency? I felt a twinge of remorse. Yet, not for those adorned with the Knight’s Cross. Not for the leaders, the architects of our suffering. The ones who callously tore families from their homes. For them, I felt no remorse. And as for my father’s murderer, I toyed with him for days. I haunted him with invisible taunts, tormenting him until he teetered on the brink of madness. Finally, I confronted him about why. Not how. I witnessed it. But why. Did he feel the pain that he caused my mother?

As I spoke to him, from invisible directions he started to swing at me. I moved around him in a circular motion and he took out his stick and started swinging. His emotions overwhelmed him and he spun violently like a top, swinging in every direction. He was so tormented by what he believed was his own voice yelling at him that he finally stopped spinning and sunk to the ground in tears.

Then slowly he turned his own weapon on himself and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 10

On that fateful afternoon, the invisible man known as Griffin abruptly ended his conversation with Dr. Kemp and hastily departed Kemp’s room, building, and the city altogether.

Though Kemp heard sounds indicating Griffin had left, he remained uncertain due to his invisible state. Recalling a blacklight device in his lab that could potentially reveal the ultraviolet radiation emitted by Griffin’s invisible form, Kemp retrieved it and methodically swept the room and building, searching for any trace of the elusive figure. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he stood motionless in the center of his room.

As he prepared to switch off the blacklight, Kemp noticed a manuscript on his desk that seemed to become visible under the ultraviolet illumination. The pages contained detailed notes describing an advanced nanomaterial capable of cloaking objects by manipulating photons. The text explained how microscopic nanobot particles could encapsulate individual molecules, preventing the agitation of visible light waves and rendering the cloaked surfaces invisible.

When Kemp removed the blacklight, the manuscript’s writings disappeared from normal sight. Realizing Griffin must have treated the pages with his invisibility material, Kemp swung the blacklight back towards the document to further read the incredible scientific notes it contained.

Dr. Kemp turned the page and found what appeared to be the recipe and instructions for an incredible invisibility formula called the “Nano-Photic Cloak Elixir.”

The ingredients were listed along with the formula for application.

The usage instructions explained that once the “Nano-Photic Cloak Elixir” was administered intravenously, the microscopic particles would disperse through the body. These particles could then interact with individual molecules, altering their electron configurations to selectively absorb or redirect light outside the visible spectrum. This would effectively create a “cloaking” effect, rendering the person invisible to the naked eye.

Dr. Kemp proceeded to his telegraph and began transmitting in Morse code… Heinz, brace yourself…..

Epilogue

So ends the story of the Invisible Man. And if you would learn more of him you must go to the college near the Kaliska Railway Station and speak to Dr. Kemp. A short and corpulent man with a nose of cylindrical proportions, wiry hair and a melancholy complex. Drink generously, and he will recount the events that unfolded after that fateful time, including the Gestapo’s relentless pursuit for three years to uncover the treasure of the manuscript and the secret formula.

Inquire about his knowledge of the formula and the means to achieve invisibility, and he’ll dismiss it as mere science fiction or fairy tale. “What they believe they’ve discovered, they cannot substantiate or comprehend,” he’ll remark. “And their desire for it remains perplexing. These manuscripts, too advanced and intricate in their formulae, would seem like the stuff of fiction, and the concept of invisible pages merely a gimmick.”

Dr. Kemp may speak of Griffin, the Invisible Man, albeit reluctantly and with emotion. And as to his current whereabouts? Well, that, he might say, is better left unsaid.

And as for the liberation of Lodz, Warsaw and Hitler’s demise on April 30th, 1945, there were reportedly two witnesses in the room: Hitler’s newlywed wife, Eva Braun, and his trusted valet, Heinz. Heinz, later questioned under oath at the International Criminal Court, described the event with a sense of disbelief and reluctance. “You’d never believe it if you weren’t there,” he began. “And even then, I prefer not to think on it. It was as though the gun acted of its own accord, striking Hitler directly in the heart.”

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