•The Slayer•

Hey, sorry it’s been long. Medical school sucks. Not like that you creeps, but yeah it sucks… For those still waiting on my Ogbunabali sequel, please be patient. I don’t want to rush the night killer, I love my sleep too much. He will speak when he wants. All I do is write when & what he tells me. Till then, here’s a spur of the moment tale. I hope you can appreciate the bleakness of it. If not, your loss really. Comments always welcome, as usual.


I am a murderer. I do not slay with swords or knives. I do not punctuate the lives of others with a bullet-like full stop. I do not suffocate their lives with an iron grip or beneath clear or muddy waters. I kill by being me.

I slay by cutting through their air with the nicest of words and snuggest of embraces. I punctuate their lives not with a full stop but with the warmest of touches like the swiftest comma. I suffocate their lives by hanging my fears around their necks, dragging them to the farthest reaches of despair because I can. I kill by being me.

I fear I have murdered something that could have been great. How? I let my fear rule me. And that is my greatest flaw. I am a slave to my fears. Break free? How? All I have ever known is fear. What is courage or bravery? What use are your words if they do nothing to spark a fire deep within? I have taken the dreams of another, choked them with my fears and now I am walking away.

Tears? I am weeping? What does it mean? To weep now when it seems way too late. I have destroyed a good thing. Taken away the happiness of a person, a fellow human being like myself. Don’t we all deserve to be happy? Isn’t a real, true and pure smile in the destiny of every single member of the human race? Why have I snatched what belongs to another? Who am I? What have I done?

I don’t know who I am. I know not this figure staring at me from beneath these still waters as I sit beside this river of my flowing tears. I know not the owner of the  blank red eyes staring back at me. I know not the owner of the lips that sit so callously on that face so scarred from bites of rage. At this point I know absolutely nothing. I know not when I’d have my own life ruined but I think I deserve it. In all my ignorance, I can claim to know one thing: I. Am. Not. A. Good. Person.





4 thoughts on “•The Slayer•

  1. We accept the love we think we deserve.
    But accepting love helps us become deserving, helps us see we are deserving.
    The greatest strength love endows us with is the strength to try. To try till we can no more. But when we have not accepted love, it is impossible to try.
    You are not a bad person.

    Liked by 1 person

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