The Moral Decadence – 2/2

I killed the rat bastard! I killed him! Years of trust….decades of friendship…he brought it down in flames. The stupid guy never understood. I tried to convince him…Oh! Believe me, I did. But he just wouldn’t listen, that bastard. So I had to shut him up…unfortunately forever. ”

The whole court-room plunged into shock. Questions raced in everyone’s mind. Everyone was anxious. The courtroom decorum would turn frivolous unless the judge had begun talking.

” Why did you murder him Mr.Walters? ”

” Why? Why??! Let me tell you a story judge. I was an ass when I was a teen. Always flunking school and ever notorious. My atrocities went a little too far when I got involved in a gang. But they’d really skyrocketed when I helped them kill a man. I wasn’t directly involved, I only assisted! Yet, I freaked out after. I was devastated.

But then Bob rescued me. He was my Messiah and my first true friend. Now I am grateful for what he did, alright? But he always kept insisting that I come clean. That the people who trusted me had the right to know, especially my girlfriend. ” Moral Liberation “ he called it.

Now that would ruin EVERYTHING! All the image I’ve worked hard to build would crash and burn. The world doesn’t work that way, you know. It’s brutally judgmental, how you do you think I got the image?

He always insisted, his arguments marred with his naive sense of a ” perfect world “. But the last argument…he took it too far. He said it was high time…that he’d rat me out if I didn’t do it myself. I was infuriated. How could he betray me like that? After all these years!

And to think that he’d blackmail me? The guts of that jerk! In a moment, I snapped. I completely lost it. I picked up the knife and in a few minutes…he was gone. ”

Jack, of all people, was dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe it. How could he defend this man? He was confessing! But he wasn’t yet convinced. He needed clarifications.

” Then tell us then Mr. Walters, how did you manage to escape and appear at the airport at the same time? ”

Walters smiled. And that scared Jack.

” I saw Mrs. Margaret notice me. I saw her run towards the house. Now I had a flight to board at 10, which was my original plan for escape, and I didn’t want any inconvenience. So I had to get rid of her, I had to think quick. And then it hit me!

You see, Bob had a vintage chime clock, a huge one. Just before old Mrs. Margaret barged in with her baseball bat, which I don’t know whom she was kidding with, ”

He turned towards her and laughed. She was obviously pissed off.

” I changed the clock’s dial to a little less than 10pm when it was only 8. I locked all doors when I knew she came in and left silently. Now a little later, probably after she realized she was trapped, she must’ve heard loud chimes that reverberated the empty house, right Mrs. Margaret? ”

She nodded from her bench. Bewildered.

” Seeing the clock she obviously thought it was 10pm. She was too much in distress and honestly, once it’s dark outside, you can barely tell the difference. She got rescued the next morning by a casual jogger who overheard her screams, and she reported to the police that it was around 10pm. It was a shot in the dark, and I’m pretty psyched it worked. ”

The courtroom was dead silent. Not a single soul spoke. Not even whispers. Jack was incredulous. You’re pysched? You Animal! His dream was gone, there was no message. He was upset it turned around this way but on the other hand, he was thankful he didn’t defend a criminal.

The Plaintiff Attorney rose triumphantly, to announce,

” Your honor, the case seems to have solved itself. Considering the testimony presented to you by the accused himself, I believe you must find him guilty. ”

” Taking into account the testimony put forth by Mrs. Margaret and the confession of the accused, Mr. Walters, I pronounce him…

Guilty 

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The Psychotic Love

He crawled backward on both hands. His back scrubbing against concrete, chest splattered with blood, and eyes looking skyward; fixated on his towering hunter and desperately pleading for mercy.

His heart pounded harder by the second and he had never felt more alive. He was deep in regret and fear was the only other emotion. Hopes of Cod forgiving him had deafened by now.

Meanwhile, a roadside tramp, infamous for her psychotic conduct and erratic realism, came running towards Cod. The gathered crowd watching her run assumed that that would be her end, for good.

The blade glimmered in sunlight as Cod’s hand rose high. A flash almost blinded his prey’s vision which he feared would be his last. He closed his eyes and waited for the blow; A blow that would never come.

The tramp had embraced Cod from behind, just before he could bring down his wrath. She started claiming Cod to be her long-lost son and started screaming in joy. The crowd burst into laughter after witnessing the frenzy.

The dread in the atmosphere dissipated. This infuriated Cod further, and he decided to get rid of her. He’d almost swung his blade in her direction when he froze to interpret what she’d just said.

“I Love you, my son. Please let’s go home. I’m tired.”

He’d been bereaved and alone lately, and she’d hit the right note. The words didn’t make logical sense, but their essence was satisfying. He turned around to hug her, much to the shock of the crowd.

Cod got arrested shortly after and the crazy lady lost her “son”, again. The victim was grateful and so was Cod. The lady finally stopped her search and had mentally adopted Cod. The psychotic lady had saved a life and she didn’t even know it.

Hell-Bent 2/2

His thoughts were interrupted by the rattling sound of the jailer’s truncheon run across the cell bars.

‘Whom are you planning to kill now John? You lousy freakin’ bastard’

The prickly comment made him feel nothing.

His heart was stone now. And his world, cold.

It was funny to hear his own words being used to accuse him.

And they took him back to where he left off. The persistent pounding.

It went on for an hour, which, he swore, still wasn’t satisfying.

Eventually, the victim had succumbed to his injuries.

‘The Victim’, they’d called him.

But John would beg to differ.

He would never in a million years forget, the night that his daughter came home crying.

Neither would he forget the week after, when he saw her hanging from the ceiling.

He felt the world pause. And then start to crumble.

An ominous silence loomed over his life, which had now lost its meaning.

But not a tear was let out. He chose not to.

For all his anger would vent out only through the fight.

He lived to see his end. He was hell-bent.