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a visit from an old friend
There are strange things in the world; many peculiar, unwonted (as well as unwanted) things. Things that make you cringe away, your hands gliding up and over your eyes as if your fingers could shield you from the problem.
I am not writing of things like two-headed cows or Cyclops cats—I am speaking of the strange way a person’s mind works. A criminal’s mind. A murderer’s mind.
What do they think of when they seize that necklace from its case? What does a killer think of as he drives his glinting knife into the screaming victim?
It is a strange thing to ponder. Most people will avoid the subject, their shining clean shoes stepping around the mess carefully so as not to get dirty.
Minds are messy, especially criminal minds. At times they can be ignored, but there are those moments when suddenly the coming danger decides to break through, surprising the naïve residents. And suddenly, this horror only represented in delicious-smelling novels and fast-paced movies is right in front of you, written in your own local paper.
You didn’t expect anything, at first. You got up, slipped into your worn but still soft robe, and inhaled a cup of coffee. Once the slightly damp paper is clutched in your hands, you see it—a mangled body displayed on the front page like every other story—and you know that this image will haunt you for the rest of your life.
You are a typical, normal person. You didn’t want to get your shoes dirty. You tried to avoid the mess.
Shouldn’t you have just plowed on through?
Let’s not be too hasty. You, whose naivety shocks me, should not too quickly get involved. It is dangerous for one as weak as you to become involved in criminal affairs.
So what happens when, in your life, you reach the mess? Do you dirty your shoes or avoid the problem altogether?
You, with your shining new shoes.
Put on a different pair.
It’s really quite simple.
Do not look at me in that way. I’m not crazy. Not yet. You mustn’t take things so seriously.
The shoes are metaphors. If you can’t get your new shoes dirty, put on your old boots.
But what about hands? When a person ‘gets their hands dirty’ they not only walked into the mess, but they plunged their hands into it, as well. Thus, the mess gets bigger, crawling toward another naïve homo sapiens to consume them.
It’s not wise to get your hands dirty, but who said it couldn’t be fun? It almost always is—especially if you are one of those people with a criminal mind.
Take a chance.
Eventually, all will end well, correct? There is no person in the world who can seize the gift of death away from you.
No, go on. Argue with your supernatural loopholes. I’m sure it would help the subject in every way.
But now it’s time to get back to the point. I imagine much of my attention was focused on you for the majority of the time.
Where was I? Ah, yes—the danger has finally come. You aren’t quite sure what to do as you stare at the photo, so your eyes decide to work on their own, darting from side to side as they notice each passing being.
Anybody could’ve done this.
But what is happening to the killer at this present time? The killer is searching for their next victim, of course—in fact, they think that they found them already. Their victim is currently searching for them—the killer. But who is it standing at their window but a dear friend who has a perpetual face of worry. Your friend’s frown deepens when they see your expression; they are worried for you, as they should be. You are about to die, after all, and who should know better but they?
You want to know what their motive is, which is only natural. They think that they are s3eetting you free--which, essentially, they are. Your life is one of misery, and they know that the only thing that could release you from this pain is death. It was like that unfortunate soul on the front page of the paper—they were in pain, and your friend quote unquote released them.
Is that relief or horror that I see on your face? I could never tell, and we have been friends for a long while.
A very long while. I would say over a decade, wouldn’t you?
And we are so close.
There’s the coffee boiling. Have a cup before you got to bed, will you? It helps soothe the nerves. And while we’re on the matter, try and grab a glass before you get the paper. I’ll wait inside.
Poor dear. You look so miserable.