The Birth of A Murderer

Someone once said there is no satisfaction in murder, but they were wrong. I am sorry to say I know this to be true from personal experience but not sad to say I did it.

It took a long time to get to a place where I could say these words out loud and not feel pangs of guilt and disgust, but I am here….now.

Georgie deserved to die.

That day in the mountains was the end of one journey and the start of another. It wasn’t something I had planned but it wasn’t unexpected.

People had been telling me since high school that Georgie would end up dead, but none of them had thought I would have a thing to do with it.

They had warned me to stay away. They had told me he would take everything from me but I didn’t listen.

I was wrong.

Georgie took all that was good in my life and I helped him.

That day on the mountain things changed.

I didn’t know why Georgie did what he did to the guy tied to the tree and I didn’t want any part of it.

Georgie wasn’t used to me saying no to him. When I refused to take the knife I knew there would be consequences.

He might let me get off of the mountain, he might not do anything for a while, but sooner or later his anger would boil over.

For a moment we stood there starting at each other, like two prizefighters sizing each other up we shared a moment of silence.

Georgie was an animal who could hurt you badly without thinking about it. I was someone who had participated in acts of violence, but I couldn’t escape the sick feelings that accompanied it.

I couldn’t escape the feeling of dread that was wracking my body. I was scared and I didn’t know what to do.

Georgie wasn’t going to ignore the man tied to the tree and he wasn’t going to walk away. He wasn’t about to let me walk away either.

I didn’t know whether the guy tied to the tree would survive his wounds or if his friends would come looking for him.

My options were limited. I could walk back to the car and leave the guy tied to the tree to his own devices. I couldn’t talk about what I didn’t see, now could I.

I couldn’t do that because I knew what was coming for him. I wasn’t going to be considered an accomplice to murder.

And then it happened.

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The words above are fiction and part of a story I am working on. I share them here in part because I am pushing and promoting it in advance and in part because it serves as a reminder to me to stay focused on this.

And by this I mean the story and the push to publish. There are dreams being manufactured here and I want to see them do more than occasionally float to the surface of my brain to be looked at, considered and then pushed back down again.

More on this to come later.