Ah ah! I think I now know what causes the notorious writer’s block…well, in my case at least! With an assignment like this, I need not look any further for diagnosis. Apparently stifling and unintentionally repressing certain emotions leads me down this dooming path. The struggle within to protect self from unexplored vulnerability lands me in the dreaded cul-de-sac. A fictitious trilogy? Phew! Ok, enough tantrum throwing, I’m going to give it a shot….arrgh!!!
It’s been so long since my last kill and I can’t do a thing about. Not at this time at least. I slipped the last time and was almost caught by Anthony, the office pest. I need to stay off radar for sometime. I think someone is on to me, someone is watching me. This overwhelming feeling of helplessness is paralyzing my pseudo life. I can’t function well in this office watching daily criminals desperately trying to use their ill-gotten money and influence in the society to wriggle themselves out of the grip of the law and justice. Badness! So because you can pay for a good lawyer you think you can get away with callously taking a life? Not on my watch! Not as long as I keep up with this job that helps me identify murderers. I need my fix before I snap and loose it completely.
For years, I have kept a day time job as an attorney-at-law to camouflage my default state of existence. I watched a monster kill my best friend when we were just eleven. This was only days before our twelfth birthday; we shared the same birth date. The memories of that fateful dusk remains vivid. These are memories on which I have built the mantra I now live by – “Kill for justice only”. We had gone into the woods nearby to play hid and seek as we always did. It was my turn to seek her out when I saw him wrestling her down with his huge palm across her mouth. He dealt her heavy blows repeatedly till she barely screamed.
I hid my small frame in the closest shrubs I could find shivering and looking on in utter dismay. Fearing for my life, I desperately muffled the scream that was welling within my core as I watched him unleash sheer brutality on her. She was a fighter even though her tiny and frail body was no match for his over-sized proportion. In minutes it was over. She went from struggle to silent, silent forever. I lost her forever. She died. I died too.
The silence that kicked in after her last whimper birth the killer instinct in me. I was afraid and at the same time enraged. She couldn’t hurt a fly yet he hurt her permanently. He knelt by her side with no expression on his face. He simply stared through her into oblivion. For a long time he didn’t move so I couldn’t move. After what seemed like eternity, he stood up and with his right hand he grabbed her lifeless body by the left side. Still in my crouched position I watched him dragged her like a rag-doll along uncharted bush path into the dark of the night. she was never found. Her body was never recovered.
The true story surrounding her disappearance and death was never known. What really happened to her was never told. Who was going to tell it? The killer who lived eight houses away from her house at the time of the incident and who also led the search party for her thereafter? Or the silent eye witness who reached an instant resolve, making killing the killer her sole mission? He took her away from me. He took everything away from me…beautiful childhood memories, untarnished innocence and my life. He took it all. I found strength in silence. I said nothing to no one. I knew I had already become a killer before my first kill. I knew I was going to kill him. This was how it all began.
Copyright © 2014 NUBIANWATERS. All Rights Reserved
“Today, write about a loss.
This doesn’t need to be a depressing exercise; you can write about that time you lost the three-legged race at a picnic. What’s important is reflecting on this experience and what it meant for you — how it felt, why it happened, and what changed because of it.
Today’s twist: make this the first post in a three-post series.