Many know me as a writer, a poet, a story teller, a master of murder mysteries, but no one has any idea who exactly I am. You have seen me assuming the role of a doctor, an actor, a beggar and many more, but in reality I am much more than that. I am a murderer, a cold blooded murderer. No, I am not talking about murder in a philosophical sense. Murder as in a real kill, as in taking away someone’s life.
It wasn’t planned, it just happened. One moment I was in a quarrel with one of my friends and the very next moment, I was on top of his corpse with a knife buried inside his heart. I was scared but steady and anyhow I managed to hide his body without leaving any proof. Days followed and not even once was I confronted by anyone or even questioned about his whereabouts. But you know how human conscience works, I was unable to sleep. The guilt was making it difficult for me to move on. And so I thought, “Let’s end it. Let me confess my crime”. The problem was how, and then it struck, “How about writing it out and talking to the police?” Hence, I wrote about it, described each and every little thing, how the argument turned ugly which prompted me to pick up the knife and bury it inside his heart; how I devised the plan of cleaning his body with alcohol to remove every trace of my touch and even how I dumped his dead body in the city’s biggest drainage system and every other detail. As soon as I finished my confession, I walked out of my house to get myself arrested.
You know, how unexpectedly things happened! On my way to the police station, I lost the papers and somehow it was found by the editor of a major publishing company. Using my name which was mentioned below my confession, he tracked me down and said if this is not true and is just a story then I am going to publish it. I took the opportunity as an escape route thinking, “Everyone deserves a second chance”. The story was published and very soon it made me famous. The murderer was now called a writer and somehow it pleased me. The particular publishing house signed a contract with me and under that I was supposed to write stories for them as a murder mystery writer.
That’s how everything began, I started writing stories, I started creating fantasy murders in my mind but the particular feeling of killing someone in real wasn’t even close to killing people in my mind. So, I started hunting, I would observe my victims, choose them carefully and then with a perfect plan, I would execute them, making them the part of my stories and by luck or Satan’s grace, I was never caught. With time, I became a master and my books made me an international best seller.
For 30 long years I continued writing and killing. After some 30 stories and 15 novels, I want to stop with one final story. One more kill and I’ll be done. And the victim is no one but me. Yes, me; the better part of my life is over and with one stroke, I will make myself immortal, a part of history. Yes, you read it correct. This particular story that you are reading is my last, my revelation. The gun that lies in front me is going to end the series that I started long ago. Soon I am going to join my characters, my stories and my legacy will live, forever.
Ansh, the writer who killed.
~ Viwanshu Vaibhaw | Edited by Afreen Zeb