[ WP ] You are Alois Hitler , spending your days trying to protect your son from strange future people who are after your son Adolf 's life .

They mostly came at night. At first, Alois was frightened, enraged – who were those intruders who dared to invade his home and put his family in danger? After the third man, he grew restless. Sleep evaded him. The house shrunk around him, the dark rooms became smaller, and when he sat at night in the kitchen, a long knife nearby and a rifle in his hand, he thought he might suffocate. He slit the fourth man ’ s throat from behind. The man never saw Alois – he just raised his hands to his neck, made a gurgling sound, and fell to his knees and then face first on the carpet. They wrapped him up in the carpet and took him to the cellar, where they had hidden the other bodies. Alois had ripped the floor away some months ago, and now they dug another grave. On the bundled carpet, a dark stain was spreading. 
 
 
 He had soon figured out that they came after his son. It was him they searched in the darkness of the night. Alois could not understand it – Adi was a small, rather pale child, with watery blue eyes. He was not exceptional, not at school, not at home and not in the streets where he played with the other boys of the town. He was his son, and Alois was sure that he loved him as a father should… but what was about Adi that was so special? Why did they want him dead so badly? 
 
 
 Something was off about those who came. He had not noticed it at first. He could not even describe it – they did not look real, somehow… they looked like bad copies of real people, as if somebody had described how the men of this town looked, and somebody else had made a copy of that, without ever seeing the original. Their coats, their trousers, the hairstyle, even their faces and their shiny straight white teeth… it troubled Alois deeply. 
 A fifth came. A sixth. The seventh took out Alois ’ eye, and he was so close, so close… he could still hear his son screaming, a real scream, loud, shrill and incredibly scared: “ Papa! Papa! Hilf mir! ” 
 
 
 The man had fled. Alois had not slept a night since. Finally, it happened – the exhaustion took over when he was sitting at the kitchen table, rifle and knife at hand, as always. He awoke in the darkness, and an invisible hand was crushing his heart. Oh God… how could he fall asleep? His legs barely carried him upstairs. When he opened the door to his son ’ s room, and saw the peaceful pale face of the child, and his fragile chest slowly expanding with each breath, he simply cried. 
 A week went by. Another, and then another, and then a month… and no more intruders came. Alois felt like he was moving in a strange, fragile dream. He dared not to wake. 
 
 
 Adolf ’ s nightmares, which had tortured him ever since the third intruder, slowly faded away. He started to smile more. One evening he came home, beaming from ear to ear. The new neighbour, a strange, little grey-haired old fellow who was apparently a retired professor from Vienna, had offered him drawing lessons. 
 “ He asked about my paintings, Papa! ”, Adolf exclaimed excitedly. “ He said I had real talent! He said I might become famous, I just have to get better, so I can go to art school! He ’ s going to help me all for free, he said… ” 

