Tonight
Tonight I'm wearing a black jacket. I try my best to dress differently every time. I don't know why, but wearing one and the same outfit all the time seems vulgar to me.
I belong to the group of people who regard boredom as death: I need to be doing something all the time, changing, rotating, destroying old walls and building new instead. And I don't care whether these new walls are going to be better than the old ones as long as they're going to be different. I know a fair amount of people who think the best thing is going with the flow. They might be right, but I'd never go that myself. I'd rush from one edge to the other, I'd swim, until I drowned... Well, thinking about such things is sad. Although sometimes you just have to forget about it and enjoy life as it is.
I'm slowly walking along a quiet alley. The birds are singing in the trees, and the warm wind is softly brushing my hair. It's getting dark. I notice a girl. She is walking toward me. Well, I'll wait for the sign. I see her face, she is pretty. I mustn't worry.
I have always liked to watch other people. Just to watch them, not knowing I am watching them. just count, how many useless moves they make every minute... The girl is right before me, just some three or four feet off. If I see the sign, it will be the right thing to do. The girl stumbles over a rough stone in the pavement and falls right into my arms. This is the sign. I can feel adrenaline start to flow in my veins.
"Miss," - I speak very politely, "are you okay?"
She steps back quickly. Well, let it be this way.
"Yes, thank you for catching me," - she smiles awkwardly.
"Any time! Let me see you off a little, it's getting dark."
"OK." - She smiles again, this time must smarter.
We walk off slowly along the pavement. The sign is also revealed through the absence of people here, in the alley. We are chatting, she tells me about her life. I'm listening attentively. A friend of mine who is a psychiatrist, once told me that people like being listened to, they believe in their power when they're listened to. I quite agree.
In a little while I put my hand around her waist. If she moves my hand away or steps aside, it will be quite natural. But she doesn't mind, she seems to like it. I enjoy her company, but I feel that it's time. I look around, just in case. Not a single person here. My left hand is slithering into the pocket, taking the heavy handle.
"What are you doing?" - She notices my move and smiles.
"Here is it," - I smile back.
The blade emerges with the sound I know so well. I quickly guide my hand in her direction and notice her surprised glance. A harsh moan comes from her glottis the moment the blade cuts her skin. The hidden stopper in me disappears, and adrenaline overwhelms me. It takes her three more second to realize what is going on. The pain convinces her. I love my knife, its sharp wide blade and the heavy handle. Handmade. Some carry their knives in sleeves - but I don't like it. I carry it on my waist, in a special handmade belt. It takes me three seconds to wipe the blade. You might not believe it, but I always carry this little cloth with me. I never change it. I wonder what its original color was. Although I don't mind its being red. I love red.
I push the knife up. The bones are breaking. I turn her insides into a bloody mess. I make a long cut and pull the blade out. It's worth mentioning that the girl is still alive. She isn't crying, or praying, or moaning. She is simply dying. I think she'll fall if I let her waist. I wonder what she is thinking about right now. I'd trade everything in the world to know. I push my hand into the cut, into her hot body. I wonder if she likes it. I touch her intestines...
Shame on me three times for knowing so little about anatomy. What is this little red thing I've just discovered?
The girl is already dead. Pity: I could have asked her, she might be a doctor or something. It's time to leave. Just a little souvenir for me. I put the little organs into a special plastic box.
I let the body, and it falls on the ground. I pick up my knife and carefully wipe it: I'm in no hurry. I could stand and stare at the body for hours, but it's time to leave. And the birds are singing in the trees, and the warm wind is softly brushing my hair.
Copyright by Shad (2002).