The Trials of a Young Murderer(C. Johnson) There was once a time in my life when I had pride and dignity in myself, but now it has all changed ...

I had just committed a crime. My skin was smooth as silk and satin brown. My eyes were stained like glass. The guards began to haul my arms as I tried to go the opposite way, but I knew it wouldn't work. I had taken one last glance at the king to whom I tried to murder. With this thought in my head, I began to clasp the rigid grip of my rapier, veiled under the side of my worn out shirt, but instead I told myself not to, as a pool of tears began to assemble. I had taken a good look at the king and a smirk began to register upon his pallid white face. I could tell that he wanted to smile, but he knew this very act would be uncivilized. I tried to conceal the tears that began to try and strain out my eye, until one slid down the side of my cheek. It was crystal clear and suddenly dropped upon the dusty floor.
“Take him to the dungeon!” the king clamored.

At this, the guards swiftly grabbed me and exited through the palazzo. The tips of my fingers began to get numb. I knew it was over for me. The only thought left in my mind was violence. I took out my dagger and slit open the guard's wrist as we took the last step out of the castle. The ruby red blood had gushed upon my arm and soon dried. In disgust, I had winced as if it were I who'd been cut.

It was a long walk and we approached a treacherous building. We began to march down the stairs. To see, one of the guards lit a flambeux. I could still see the guard wincing upon his wrist. The stairs down to the deep depths of the building began to bewilder me. The darkness was stalking me as I went step-by step. We had made it to the catacombs and the guards thought I was too dangerous to leave alone, so they had decided to strip me of all my things. Secretly, I kept my dagger. It began to peak out the side of my pocket. The guards had thrown me into the dark dungeon. One of the guards felt pity and compassion towards me so they threw in the flambeux that they had obtained earlier as well. Just as the darkness was about to devour me, the illumination of the torch extricated me.

My leg was scraped on the concrete and after time had begun to pass, I noticed it becoming worse and turned into an austere wound. I laid idle in the dark corner. I began to scrape upon the guard's blood that discretely dried on my skin. The scabs fell on the floor as if it were small footsteps tapping on the concrete ground of the concealed catacombs. Exhaustion had suddenly gotten the better of me and soon my eyes began to close. I began thinking of the affection my mother would have towards me. She would always rub my back. I remember always waking up on the cold side of my bed. My mother would always... A ray of sunlight had begun to awaken me. My body was numb, my fingers frozen, and my mouth tasteless. All I could really think about was survival. Rain began to drip upon my satin brown forehead. It had soon become hot and it was hard even to get an utterance to wiggle out my concealed lips. The words were having a difficult time struggling out my lips. I knew this because my rigid, chapped lips were accountable as the obstacles.

A droplet of sweat began to form and eventually dripped on the floor. The ray of sun light had seen this and soon nabbed the sweat off the dusty floor. A pack of mice began to run from one side of the floor to the other. I was so quiet that I could even hear my heart struggling to even have an effort to make one heart beat. The leader of the pack's eyes were as big as a deer's in headlights and the color was of a rotten squash's. Soon the mice had dissipated. One of the smaller mice, assumed that it was a baby, had soon rested on the side of my stomach. Soon my guard had come on, but when I saw the baby mouse, I rested back on my back. All of a sudden, I began to hear something chewing. I knew it was alive, so I began to look around. The sound began to come closer and closer, until I saw a dark figure. I began to slide up from the floor I was lying upon and the little mouse slid down the side of my chest. I could feel the mouse trying the climb back up, but it was too hard. The figure began to move and I went slowly towards it. Soon, the figure had materialized and I could see him. His hair was hazel, and his eyes were as blue as the ocean could be. His arms were very bony and he was struggling even to just stand up. I could tell that he had been in here for at least a week because of his pungent smell, the yellow upon his decaying teeth, and how his clothes had turned into a roquelaire. I began to perceive this after observing him for quite some time. Somehow, I hadn't noticed this man since I had arrived in this deep dungeon. His name was Thaddeus.

Thaddeus seemed oblivious to any and everything, though he was still helpful. He was about in the same height range as I was, so he wasn't really a threat to me or anything else around. I had seen that his toe nails were growing rapidly and were making small apertures in the side of his worn out boot. I was now here for a day. My body was hot as could be and I could soak in cold water about now, but of course I was just imagining this. My wound began to sting and I began to struggle to stand up. My feet were telling me to rest, but I ignored them. Although Thaddeus was oblivious, he was quite wise. I figured this out after spending some time with him. He wasn't a man of many words, but I got used to him. Thaddeus had begun to see me wincing upon my wounded leg and he tried to help. He went back into the corner that he had originally come from and brought back a piece of a damp cloth that he'd torn off from his clothes. Thaddeus was wise, so he left the rag under where the rain would drip from, and keep it to clean his face. A sudden thought had popped into my head. I was wondering how this young man could survive for a week without any food or water. I asked him this and he replied hesitantly. He claimed that he would steal all the crumbs from the mice and gather them. This didn't sound like much to me, but when he insisted for me to come and see it, I went along with him. After seeing it, I came up with a plan. There was no way that Thaddeus would share with me, as greedy as he was, but I could murder him. I waited until the sun had fallen and the moon had lit up the dim sky at night. Apparently, Thaddeus was a virtuoso spirit and loved art and music. It was weird how I learned so much from this man within a matter of hours.

Night had come, and it was my chance to murder him. I began to open one of my eyes to see whether or not the coast was clear. Then, I opened my other eye and lifted my left leg, being careful not to wake up the resting body of Thaddeus. I was very hungry and I resorted to cannibalism. I lifted my other leg up off the floor and walked slowly towards Thaddeus. For some reason, Thaddeus had carved a stone into a small shard for protection. I had decided to take it and use it to kill Thaddeus. I wanted to kill him in a way that would be quick. I began to lift up the shard and stabbed him in his stomach. It had hit the shaft and I could see his eyes begin to open. He began to cough out blood and a tear fell and slid down his cheek.

“Why?” Thaddeus said grimly.

I didn't answer him. He asked again and this time his words began to fade. I could tell that death had reached him. Thaddeus knew it was impossible to cheat death, and calmly accepted that it was his time to leave. A word was beginning to come out of his mouth, but it was gargled so I couldn't understand him. Thaddeus coughed again and this time the blood had somehow sneaked upon the cheeks of my face. The blood was warm for some reason. One last and final tear began to pass down the side of his cheek. This time is was sincere, and he was dead. I lit the torch up again that had burned out a few hours ago, and burned him. I guessed that a fried body wouldn't be half bad to eat, since it was the only thing left, other than the gathering of crumbs, but there was no way I was going to eat anything from mice. Thaddeus died from immolation, or so he wanted me to believe. I began to look around again, this time very cautiously. I saw that the body that I had killed wasn't actually a body at all. Thaddeus would make puppets for theater shows and such and he would put detail into them. HE would even put a small supply of water in the eye sockets of the puppets' eyes and dyed water in the head and the stomach of the puppets. I had to admit that he was a pretty smart man. I began to take out my dagger that was peaking out the side of my worn out pocket, very slowly. Thaddeus was really good at what he did. I knew this body was a puppet because I had seen strings attached to the columns holding up the building that we were in. Thaddeus had suddenly jumped from above me and stabbed me in the back. He had taken me away from my pain. I was in a place where I wanted to be, not in a place where I had to be cautious. Suddenly, all my past memories began to flash before me. Soon, the thought of my mother patting my back had come back. The flambaeux began to go out and the room was become darker and darker. The darkness was just waiting to take me. My eyes began to shut one last time. Now the darkness had taken me. I was in a cocoon of darkness, resting in the place I wanted to be. Questo è il luogo della rinascita.

- THE END -

© 2012 Clyde A. Johnson

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