The Dance of the Wicked Blade

Do you know what it is like to kill someone?

To watch the life drain from their face as their chest rattles and their body slackens against your cold embrace, is truly a one of a kind feeling.

I remember my first time as if it was yesterday…

It was a cold winter morning. I was staring out my window, watching the snow fall like a peppered blanket, covering all in a cold white shroud.

After preparing myself for the tedious and mundane activities of the school day, I was waiting for the bus when, for the third time this week, that one group of miscreants came striding over, administering their routine insults. Finally the bus rounded the corner and I boarded to yet another drab bus ride. At school I checked my timetable to see that there was my least favourite subject first up – Economics. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Economics, I was fascinated by it in fact. It was just the teacher. I absolutely loathed Mrs. Schmidt. First of all, she wasn’t even qualified to be teaching Economics – she only had an agricultural business degree, but because she was well acquainted with the principle, she got in as a German teacher – her understanding of English was also abysmal at that. So when she heard that a large number of students were interesting in studying Economics she rose at the opportunity and started studying online to be an Economics teacher. On her first class it didn’t even seem like she studied much outside the course – when asked questions that were not directly related to the content she could not answer them. And even when we did ask questions about the course, half the time she would answer with, “I don’t know…” or say “That’s a good question.” And then say nothing more.

Also, during her classes, she would just read the textbook out loud and not even look up – on one occasion I even set up a game of Cards Against Humanity and played with my only friend at the time, Sebastian.

So I sat down in class and the teacher started her dreary rambling from the book that only served as background noise to the nefarious gentlemen who couldn’t help but mock me. After 80 minutes of this imprudence I was just about to lose my composure when the bell rang and bestowed its mercy upon me. As soon as that bell rang, I sprang out of my seat and ran out of the class. As I rounded the corner, I noticed a group of students gathering around at the locker area. And then, my stomach sunk like a tonne of bricks. The students were gathering around my locker. Someone had taken my workbooks and my library owned textbooks, thrown them all on the floor and torn them to pieces.

They were all ruined.

I would have to pay for all of this.

They would have to pay for all of this.

One would expect that I was upset about this, but oh no. I was in fact, full of glee. Long had I waited for a decent reason to teach these degenerates a lesson.

I embarked on my usual bus ride home with a smile plastered from ear to ear. I was so excited I could barely contain myself. It was only when I got home and began to recite my elaborate scheme when I realised what I was doing. I was seriously pondering how I would kill another human being. Suddenly I felt sickened by these dark thoughts and decided I would do something to take my mind off of them.

I decided to Skype Sebastian to give myself some comfort. It was during this conversation that I am certain that it was where I finally lost it. I was talking to him, video conference, of course when his face began to change. The round cheeks and pale tone morphed into the slender jaw line and tanned complexion that I had learned to despise. Sebastian, my one true friend in this world had transformed into the bully I abhorred so much. But it wasn’t just this, oh no, he was also… laughing. He was cackling manically; mockingly. His joy seeped into my soul and brought out a darkness that had lain dormant. And like a flash I was again filled with a rage and darkness so intense that I could not describe it. I clenched my fists so hard I couldn’t help but yelp when I noticed the blood trickle from my finger nails and onto my desk.

I knew what I had to do.

Without warning I ended the call with this so called Sebastian and resumed my nefarious scheming. I grabbed all of the necessary materials to carry out this devious task: a rusty shovel, a large blue tarp, a coil of itchy rope, a razor sharp hatchet and my beautiful knife. Never had I seen such an eloquent blade. It had a black handle and an engraved stainless steel blade. These engravings consisted of swirly lines and laughing skulls that exotically articulated from the hilt to the tip of the blade. Now I possessed all the items I needed to teach these bullies a lesson – taking out their ring leader would surely scare the group into hiding. I meticulously placed my tools in a grey duffel bag and put it next to my door – ready for the next day.

I slept quite soundly that night.

I woke up in the morning, well rested and enthusiastic for what the day would hold. I got prepared for school and cradled my duffel bag as I sat on the bus. I went through my dreary routine, endured the unfavourable insults from my oppressors and survived my terrible classes, all the while, being driven by this new-found passion.

Finally school concluded and I followed the tyrant of the reprobates home. I knew he took a shortcut through the woodlands, now blanketed by the dense, white snow, since pretty much everyone who lived on the West side of town did. I kept about thirty metres behind him with my black parker shrouding my head. I felt like an apex predator, stalking my prey. Finally we reached a clearing in the trees. I knew that this was my ideal opportunity to strike. I crept up behind him, knife clenched firmly in my hand. I was directly behind him and just as he was about to turn, I struck. My blade danced across his greasy throat as crimson ribbons danced gracefully in the air. He slumped down against me, gurgling and wheezing. His teary eyes gazed upon his conqueror as he breathed one final, drawn out breath. He slackened and became limp. While the fun part of my mission was complete, I still had the messy clean up to do. I regained my composure and brandished my hatchet. I detached his limbs with surgical precision and placed all the now disassembled pieces into the tarp, rolled it up and tied it. I then used the rusty shovel to dig this scum a shallow grave. It was all he deserved for what he had done to me.

Upon arriving home I felt a feeling I had never felt before. It can only be described as a great sense of relief, paired with the warm fuzzy feeling of happiness. I was finally at peace.

But I knew not to stop there, oh no, I knew that after a few days, weeks or even months my intense feelings of depression and self-loathing would return. I continued my villainous habits but alas, all good things must come to an end. After taking the lives of 17 men, 4 women and 1 child, I was finally caught out by some careless mistake I had made along the way.

All of my kills provided great satisfaction but none will ever even begin to compare to that rush I felt the first time.

While some may say it is impossible to sate my blood-lust once again, I hear the call of the wicked blade.

I long to hear my victim’s final moments.

I long to feel the warm red life giving liquid pour down my hands once more.

I long to feel the wicked blade.