For truth, my first reluctant memories of that childhood Nightmare, that Märchen of which even our village Elders were reluctant to speak much of were vague and yet terrifying as they surfaced.
Alone I sat upon a broken ammunition crate watching the soldiers carry more nameless, faceless corpses to the pit in which I toiled the daylight away in. Much as a madman would I spoke lightly to myself, reciting the tales of darkness and chaos as I remembered them from so long ago. Ages it seemed since the other children began disappearing into the night. Lifetimes ago it felt when the men from the village armed themselves and went hunting the monster responsible for it all.
I sat there and thought long on the strange tradition we had adopted since then; of wearing outlandish masks and celebrating annually the occasion of our triumph over Der Grobmann
on that fateful early morning.
My mind wandered upon fanciful things in that strange time of reflection. That time of Twilight between light and dark when all strange things seem possible. I began to think, perchance even to dream of ways to visit murder upon this Doctor, this vile beast that had insinuated its way into the heart of my village to commit its atrocities. At some other time, some peaceful time I think I would have rebelled and recoiled from this idea of murdering such repose. No longer. The rage at his actions boiled to deep within me.
So many dead to bury and burn, Such were the ashes that clogged my nose and layered upon my skin. Madness took refuge therein, in that ashen layer I believe.
I looked down just then, at what was in my hands as I conjured such thoughts and fancies. A mask. This was given to me as a mercy, I do remember so. A protection from the poisons and ashes in which I worked now. One of the soldiers there who had a softer heart despite the hardness of his face took pity upon me and even showed me how to operate its stranger mechanical aspects.
This was no ordinary mask you see. This marvel of the new age, of technology as it were, purified the air in which you breathed and protected one's eyes from ash, dust and poisons in the air. Hideous to look upon but a wonder unto itself. I turned this mask over in my scarred and bloodied hands and smiled cold death down upon it. I would celebrate Märchen in a new fashion this year. One more fitting for the hell visited upon my people.
What better way to murder one monster than but with another?