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| A killer's actions | |
| By Norby | ||||||||||||||
| 14 June 2006 | ||||||||||||||
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Started writing and this is what happened ... a worrying sign maybe? It's the story of a boy who has just murdered someone, and his actions after the murder. Comments and critiques welcomed! It was the height of summer, and the luminous night sky was altogether too bright to justify committing murder. Nonetheless, the deed was done, and Lewis walked along the side of the polluted river with a corpse over his shoulder. He took a deep draw on his cigarette and tossed it casually into the water, where it floated helplessly downstream, avoiding upturned shopping trolleys and bicycle wheels. Lewis paused for a moment to heave the slipping cadaver back onto his shoulder. The body was heavier than it looked. He continued his idle walk along the path, stepping over empty bottles and more discarded fag ends. His thoughts flitted back to the killing, but he screwed up his face and returned his attention to the here and now. He’d expected to feel empty, cold, ruthless ... but for now he enjoyed a moment’s calm. The murder had been committed: the difficult part was over. Finally, he reached his destination. A large stone bridge, which the path ran underneath alongside the river. He let the corpse slide off his shoulder, and it hit the ground with what should have been a sickening crunch. Instead there was merely a soft bump as it connected with the dry mud. Lewis leant against the wall of the bridge and lit another cigarette. He hadn’t entirely decided what to do with the body, but this seemed as good a place as any to begin what little plan he’d formed. He stood still in the night, inhaling smoke, as birds began to sing in the distance. Flicking the stub into the water once more, Lewis stepped into the cold river, and dragged the body with him. The water rose to his thighs, and the small frame of the corpse floated on the water. It would have drifted away had Lewis not held on to the ankle, while he searched his coat pockets for the serrated knife. He hacked away at the body, and slowly, parts began to detach from the overall lump it had become. The blood blossomed through the water like the smoke from his cigarettes. No sounds was made other than the frequent splashes and the occasional snap of body parts. A hand floated away downstream ... followed by a foot ... strips of flesh slipped away next, and with (finally) a sickening crunch, a leg bone sank to the bottom of the river. Lying on the sandy bed it was soon joined by other bones, too heavy to be dragged by the flow. As dawn began to break, Lewis was left shivering with cold, soaked, and holding a dismembered head. It’s staring, lifeless eyes looked at him ... not accusingly, not vengefully ... just looking. Lewis searched his other pocket and pulled out a small hammer. He had his doubts as to whether this idea would work, but it was worth a try all the same. Time was short now: the first dog walker would soon be meandering down the path he himself had walked a few short hours ago. He wedged the head between some rocks at the side of the river, and brought the hammer down hard. It landed on the head, and the resulting connection sent spasms up his arm, but still he whacked the head over and over. Cracks began to appear on the skull, as what little blood was left in the head seeped into the water again. All pretence abandoned, Lewis tore the skull apart with difficulty. Fragmented and destroyed, the shards of bone floated across the water, and Lewis let the grey and red inside float with it. It wasn’t likely the inhabitants would notice a severed body in the old river. Lewis hauled himself out of water, and dripped over the mud path. His feet squelching as he walked, he made his way up the path. He threw his tools over a wire fence into a scrap merchant’s yard, and walked home. Once he arrived at the quiet, cosy cottage, he put his wet and dirty clothes in the washing machine quietly, and changed into something dry. He sat in the living room and watched TV until his mother walked into the room. She yawned widely, clutching a thick night gown to her, and regarded her son. “You’re up early,” she commented. “Yeah...” Lewis said, staring fixedly at the screen. He could relax. The deed was done.
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