Verdict Guilty

• Emily Jackson, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2011

“You squawk like a parrot in distress. You kill like an animal near death of starvation. Yet now, faced against those who would decide your fate, you are sane and loyal, like a filthy dog, waiting for an order. Does fear grip your heart or your tongue?”
Raising a solid and stare less gaze forward, the young man sat at the stand, unafraid and silent. His eyes, dark green, with a hint of brown to make it even more mysterious to those watching him. Bound at both his wrists and ankles, he shifted in his seat, the metal contacting and breaking the snap of cold silence in the room.
“A dog, I am not. A creature of man, neither. For what I am cannot be described, by mortal man.”
The reply came so oddly, causing few to murmur within the walls of the court. Both of the parties, prosecuting and defending, were left to wonder what this crazed monster spoke of. He was still human, yes, but what he had done was considered a monstrosity to society itself. The murder of fifteen people, regardless of age or race, slain without a drop of blood spilt. The only weapon was a blade, hidden from view, under the right arm of the assailant. A perfect murder but with flaw. He didn’t expect a witness. No one, in fact did. A miracle to a very doomed case.
Everyone was hesitant to move, when the judge cast a glance at the prosecution, who got up and moved, slowly approaching the young man on the stand. His movement was slow and timid, hesitantly stopping part ways from the accused.
“You are considered a creature, not human, yet you appear human. If I may ask, what gives you the right to murder so many innocents, whose lives are yet to take place?”
Unmoved, the young man stared at the prosecutor, who was having a hard time finding his stomach for the moment. When his gaze shifted to the defendant, he gave a slight and partially noticed nod.
“No one knows what it’s like. When you find your prey, cornering it somewhere in the open, unbeknownst to it. The silence of their demise approaching is something unreal. But it’s when you make your move that your blood pumps. No one can match the feeling of a single, sharp blade piercing the skin. The tearing of barriers that keep people from the ultimate fate. Living or dying. Do you have any idea of how painless it is? Stabbing right through the throat, slashing the jugular with relative ease. Blood spills onto the blade, sending a vibe unmatched.
But do you understand what is really difficult? Once you taste it, you can never recreate the same feeling, no matter how much death results. Killing without purpose is called murder. Killing with one, is called life. My goal is to recreate that same feeling. To find life’s purpose. To recreate it once more.”