ultraguy4 (2014-03-13 05:09:56)

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So many questions you probably have. So many inquiries as to why I committed what you consider to be atrocities. You interrogate me as if I were a criminal. However, you misjudge the true extent of my mind. I can explain myself. I know what I have done, and am fully ready to verify my actions. You think me mad, but you truly know nothing. That is why I am here to clarify.

To fully understand what I am telling you here, I will need to explain some more personal manners, not all of which I shall be divulging to you, but simply enough context to clarify my future decisions. It all started with an acquaintance, of sorts. However, I do use the term in question lightly.

His name was Edward. Is the last name important? I should think not. We had known each other for the longest of times. How long? The bonds of a relationship as complex of ours often lent themselves to overshadow what is simply a measurement, no, a perception of a measurement used to keep order. Such trivial notions only interfere with the simple experience of living one's life with their most deepest of intimacies with those they care about.

But, I digress. I tend to ramble, as you will soon find. Now, where was I? Oh, yes! Edward. Like I said, we had known each other for quite some time. It was a "friendship" first formed from a reluctant alliance against a common enemy. That enemy being a misunderstanding brought on from those who could not comprehend our meticulous way of life and thinking. The relations between us, over the years, however, slowly devolved into something of a rivalry. Not an outright trade of blows or insults, but something much more subtle. Something of a more passive aggressive nature. An underlying battle that never dared surface, but was more passionate than anything that could have been fought with brass, gunpowder, or steel.

Edward was a well kept man. Decent build, hair constantly in a part, never particularly left home without a suit or pocket watch, except under the most dire of circumstances. A bit of a paranoiac at his most bearable, an opinionated, argumentative, teeth grinding, blabber mouthed nuisance at his most unbearable. His lifestyle was constantly at odds with mine, which was where the intricacies of our relationship soon began.

I am a man who prides himself in his work. In a world full of ignorant and often boorish people, I don't indulge myself in the idle pleasantries that keep most occupied. I live to be productive. If I must occupy my free time, I do so with something that will either benefit myself or others, however helpful the extent of the action is. Now, that is not to say I am a generous man. As a matter of fact, I despise people in general. I am not a philanthropist. I do not give just to give. I often prefer to be isolate, immersed in my work. I generally do not enjoy others in my vicinity, spouting idle, unimportant nonsense and pleasantries.

Edward, at least as I first knew him, was an exception. While he was certainly more tolerant of the blissfully ignorant, he shared the same clockwork ideals that I did. However, over time, his view of the world slowly devolved into a lifestyle that I personally loathed. He became a much less reserved, much more exploitative individual.

The best I can describe him as a hedonist. But even such a label would not be entirely accurate, as he went about his days in a professional manner. He constantly talked with others, traveled with other friends, and indulged in rather obscene practices that I myself find useless. It was a competition of opinion- viewpoint, perhaps? Oh, the correct description escapes me at this time.

Now that I have given you just enough context behind the nature of our "alliance," allow me to explain the events that have landed me into this situation.

It was a dreadfully cold evening, I remember. Violet orange streaks painted themselves against a rapidly darkening sky, creating a swirling mosaic of clashing colors and hues. I myself paced down a fairly cracked concrete sidewalk, small pebbles and chipped concrete particles littering the ground. The streets were empty in this part of the neighborhood. Not many walked the streets at night, God only knows why. I personally loved the night. If I couldn't have solitude, than dusk was the next best thing.

I could feel the wind blowing my blazer in a swaying motion of sorts as I continued at a steady pace down the sidewalk. Many of the cookie cutter homes along the road had their front porch lights turned out. There were no street lights in this portion of the settlement either. For what reason, I do not know. The wind brushed against my face like a cloud of razors. I huddled further into the collar of my coat for protection against the dreadful cold.

I looked about the streets, my eyes finally settling on what I recognized to be Edward's home. It was a larger home, with an undeniable grandeur about it. It had a Gothic design, with many angular points and dark colors. The grass in front of the house was starting to wilt from the cold. I stepped through, up to the rickety wooden steps leading to the large double doors that adorned the front of the house. I knocked thrice. Edward, anticipating my arrival, was at the door within seconds.

"Ah, Donovan! Come in."

I walked in, taking in the soft glow brought on by the light reflecting off of the wooden floor. I immediately walked with him to the loft. I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, which was lit. I settled into the seat, watching the flickering fire in the fireplace.

"So, Donovan, how goes your day?"

"Isolate and productive. And you?"

"Boring almost to a fault. Very few of my associates were free to chat. I know you're not the most social of personas, Donovan, but I don't mind your company."

"I suppose. I find you slightly more tolerable than any of the blathering dimwits of people I am forced to come in contact with from day to day."

Edward went silent, nodding and looking up. He kept his eyes focused up toward the ceiling for the longest of time. I don't know what started the sensation. I'm not sure I can describe what it actually was. A compulsion, perhaps? Desire? Longing? A decision of the most spontaneous nature? Hard to say.

I don't know what compelled me, but I soon grew restless. It was subtle, at first. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, something not sitting right with me. It soon snapped me back to the dreadful sense of time. My ears seemed to had focused on the sound of the clock ticking. Although the sound was minute, I could pick out the rhythmic, almost maddening tick of the second hand moving along. Each small click was like a knife wound into my soul. I could swear my hearing had become acute enough to hear the gears inside the clock grinding against each other, a dull, metallic screeching that made me clench my teeth together.

A sharp pulse rang through my temples. It wasn't any discernible sound, nor the feeling of a migraine, which I was quite familiar with, but something more akin to just a random, jabbing pain. It started acutely within my brain but then slowly spread out, like liquid fire slowly pouring over every one of my nerve endings. I slowly ground my teeth together, almost feeling every infinitesimal, deliberate movement. I then looked over to Edward. His eyes were still focused on the ceiling. My eye started to twitch. I don't know why, but something seemed to have... snapped... within me.

With just the barest of movements, I nudged the wine glass Edward had offered me off of the arm of the chair where I had been resting it. The movement seemed to have snapped Edward out of his reverie, the sound of shattering glass interrupting his thoughts.

"Wha-"

"Oh! How terribly clumsy of me. Worry yourself not, Edward. I'll sweep the pieces."

Before he could protest, I had gotten up from my seat, grabbing a broom which rested against the side of the fireplace. I swept up the glass, put carefully pocketed a few moderate sized pieces. I walked into the kitchen to dispose of the broken glass, in the process getting myself a fresh glass, which I then poured in more wine. I went back into the lounge, Edward having returned to his distracted, pondering state. I set my own glass down and carefully took some of the glass shards from my pocket. I broke them down into slightly smaller shards, depositing a few of them into Edward's drink. My fingers bled a little from the process, but wasn't otherwise important at the time.

I sat back down, taking my glass by the bottom and turning to Edward.

"You know, old friend," I began, "I'd like to propose a toast."

"A toast?"

"Why, yes. Of all of the unpleasant, insufferable numskulls I've met, you happen to be the most bearable."

I raised my glass, along with my eyebrows, tilting the glass slightly. Edward gave a y grin, upon which he took a long drink of his wine, as did I. I sat, smiling, waiting. It didn't take long to get the reaction I had been waiting for.

Edward coughed a little bit. He hit his chest with the side of his fist, trying to clear his throat. I worried it might not have worked until he coughed up blood. It shot from his mouth in a concentrated stream, dribbling down his chin and creating splashes on the rug. He kept coughing, more and more crimson jetting out with every convulsion. The coughing became more violent, more erratic. However, looking back on it, there was something somewhat odd I noticed. He never looked at me once. Never did he turn to me with a look of confusion or horror. He never once gave me a look that demanded answer to justify my decision. He must have been too prideful.

It took two minutes, fifty four seconds. Edward had breathed his last. He sat silent, motionless, slumped back in the chair. Blood still ran down his chin and out of his mouth and dribbled down his black suit, the fresh streams contrasting starkly against the dark fabric. I didn't quite know what to do next. I simply laid back, and closed my eyes. The next thing I know, daylight peeks in through the windows, and there's a knock at the door.

I slowly rise to my feet and answer the door. It was a young woman, possibly one of Edward's admirers. She looked up at me.

"I wasn't aware Edward already had company. He generally doesn't take guests earlier than me."

I looked back to where he lay deceased in his chair.

"He was able to make an exception. By the way, he's not really himself today. Try not to bother him too much."

And with that, I walked past her and out into the street.

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