The Full Moon

My life was a lie. Of that much, I was certain. Every breath I had taken, every futile and stinking thought that had risen from my mind, every cursed and fetid beat of my inexpressive heart. Everything had been a complete and utter falsification. 1

I had not meant it to be that way. No, I had once yearned and dreamed of the day in which life as I knew it could act as a form of plausible existence on this immobile planet. But dreams only go as far as the eye can see, and my vision was currently clouded with the blood of a thousand lives.2

Well, perhaps not a thousand. Not yet, at least.3

Ever since I had come to exist in the boundaries of this world, since the miraculous day of my birth, I knew I was different. The day that saw me wake and crumble into the world cried at my entrance. For ever since I was a young child, I had felt the need to destroy. To rip and tear and void everything around me. To mutilate and desecrate, cause chaos and instability. Even if that included taking life. For me, living a simple and meaningless life as a worker bee was not going to cut it. Life was deeper than that. Stronger. And I intended to elevate myself above the rest. 4

I committed my first murder at the age of 11. Young, I know. But my corruption was evident to myself since my brain began to process and ponder. Ever since then, the count has only grown. The insatiable hunger dwelling in the innards of my flesh was too mad to deny. In my mind, there was no point to withhold my cravings, to leave the pounding desire unfinished at the edge of my fingertips. I wanted it all.5

All. Everything and anything. Life to death. 6

So I suppose it’s now a double-edged sword that chases me. 7

You see, whoever may read this, I plead to you. Savor it. Treat me not as a homicidal psychopath. I am much more than that. I have the true keys to identity. And I am offering it to you now as a sacrificial gift. I am dying so that you can see the light.8

My last kill. I made it a point to avoid planning beforehand and instead let my instinct lead the way. It was night, I remember. Dark. Cold. A winter’s night. In the fullness of the moon, so tender and round, like the plump of a freshly unearthed pearl, I could see stains of blood. Every crevice and shadow was to me a pool of darkly simmering red cells, waiting patiently to be ripped from the womb and dripped upon the earth. This was no mere moon to me. It was the sign of oncoming slaughter. A sign that I must take heed. Tonight.9

I began to saunter down the sidewalk, a reflective gleam in my eye that I knew was the only tell-tale sign of my intentions. For in this gleam, in this inauspicious glimmer of my pupil, one would be able to see into my soul. And what one would find… well, I’ll leave it up to you to decide.10

In this ordinary walk, I began to find new purpose. Choosing a victim was easy for me – the first person that came into sight usually did the trick. My eyes diligently scanned the dim gray light ahead of me, searching for prey. I, the predator, was hungry for flesh. Who would call to me?11

There. Across the street, on the other side of the walkway, a young and fertile girl. Cliché, very much so. The young girl, walking alone at night under a full moon, only to fall prey to a vicious and hungry man of erect stature. But as cliché as it was, I wanted her. I wanted her blood on the tip of my tongue.12

So I halted my ongoing pace, letting her breach part of the gap before I made the more conspicuous track across the street. I would like to contain her screams for as long as I could, for the longer the authorities stayed unaware, the better.13

The truth was, in most ordinary cases, a bystander would not even bother to call the police. Human beings were the most self-centered creatures ever to walk on the face of this earth. If it did not threaten their own safety, they stayed out of it. Someone else would take care of the dirty work. Someone else always did. 14

But not tonight. Tonight I would make sure that the rest of humanity would be too filled with an ardent trepidation to even lift a finger. Tonight, I would remind them of their own selfish insignificance. And the moon would reign terror upon them, and the demons of the night would feast upon them.15

Or so I dreamed. To dream, to yearn, ah, what meaningless quandaries. It turns out our dreams never do come true, do they?16

I pressed my back up against the flat of a brick wall, letting my gaze fall solely on her. Nothing else mattered at the moment, no one nor anything. My senses were honed on the kill, the prey. My sacrifice to an unwilling god.17

So it was quite a surprise when a strong pair of hands clasped the sides of my throat. Instantly, I felt the tunnel or my air pipe become clinched, forcing the breath I had been in the process of inhaling to come squirting back out through the circle of my mouth. My lungs seized in a panic, and I directly rebelled. I thrashed my arms beside me in an effort to fare off my attacker, to cause him pain and panic, but he gave no heed. Yet still, the unknown captor maintained a strong grasp on my throat no matter how hard I punched and struggled against his grip. 18

Slowly, the few morsels of oxygen that had survived the initial trouncing in my lungs became used up, leaving me with nothing but useless carbon dioxide. I needed more air, the fresh night air that had once ago seemed so powerful and copious. Now it was distant and only a mere memory – a haunting breeze on the outside of my hull. My lunges became weaker and weaker as my muscles began to shut down. It felt as if my arms and legs had all gained twenty pounds – for the energy to lift them was not contained within me. Involuntarily, my body slumped limp against the brick wall behind me, sagging to the ground in a submissive heap. It was only the firm hold around my neck that kept me afloat, the only lifeguard I had against seeping to the pavement. 19

My vision was beginning to become hazy, unfocused. I found that I could no longer focus on much of anything. The night sky, the morbid moon, my prey on the other side of the street… these were all faint memories of a past life, some untouched memoir lying on the desk under a coating of dust. Not wanting to give, not wanting to die tonight, I felt my body tremble and quiver. My eyesight went black, and I knew all was lost.20

It was a shock, then, when I awoke. The first sensation I had was air copulating within the casket of my chest. I inhaled sharply, savoring the air which had once seemed so rare. A pure and vindicated spirit filled me, and I knew that my lungs had won the battle.21

I opened me eyes, aware of the life inside of me, and instantly shut them again. Nearly inches from my face, hovering like a swarm of bees above a jar of honey, was a face covered in a dark ski mask. The only indicators that it was human were the eyes, which peeped out like flaming lurid cannonballs in the heat of hell. I wanted out of this.22

“Your end has come. Tonight will be your last night in existence.” The man’s voice was low and intense, as if he himself were lit with the fire in his eyes. Unfortunately, it was a look that was all too familiar for me. For it was a reflection of myself.23

“No, no,” The words sputtered from my mouth in a haze, my throat bruised and damaged from the previous struggle. “You don’t understand. I’m like you. We’re the same.”24

“The same?” He laughed sadistically, a laugh that I often frequented. “No one is the same as me. No other human being would understand me. I am apart from all of you. You’re slaves, you see that? Slaves to a never ending process of lies and doubt. You live without purpose and without soul. Tell me, young sir. What do you believe your purpose in life?” The man was surprisingly in tune with my own frequency. He seemed to exist on the same plane of thought as I. It was urgent that I express that to him.25

“To bring utter chaos and destruction to world as they know it. I see your purpose. I understand your vendetta. And I share it. I too want to decimate all those caught in the cycle. My mind is free, just as yours.” I tried to sound strong, to have will and force inside my voice, but it came out as a mere whisper. Lone. Afraid. Measly.26

“Oh, cut the lies. Stop trying to feed me what I want to hear. I’ve had enough of you, my little friend.” And he moved in for the kill. 27

The knife cut into my lower abdomen first, somewhere in between the upper and lower abdominal quadrant. I seized unwillingly at the pain, but my arms and limbs were bolstered securely. The inner warmth I had so thoughtfully maintained throughout the years now seeped out into the open air, instantly contaminated on contact. The cut went deeper, and I felt him tear through the dermal tissue. He was starting low, so that the organs most vital to my existence would remain intact until the very end. He was smart, I would give him that. Smart in a way that rivaled my own intelligence.28

And here, I had thought myself alone this entire lifetime. The only Transformer in a world full of Barbie dolls. And to find him, to find him, one a striking likeness to myself… what did it mean?29

It meant I was not alone. That I had a companion. A companion that was now murdering me.30

All throughout my life, my urgency to cause destruction had never reflected on myself. In all my years, I had never once inflicted self-harm. There seemed no reason. I was above the filth that I extinguished, I had a right to exist. They, on the other hand, were mere scum in the corner of a rotting sewer. Something that needed to be cleansed and exterminated for the true ruler of the world. Me.31

But now… all that was shattered. Here was another, another just as me, with the same self-servicing ideals and theories. He thought the world, just as I, was a plague on the page of existence. And he was doing his part to cure it. But to incite me? Me, one so worthy of a life above this? To kill me?32

It meant that… I was just as my prey. For in that moment, in that moment full of red and anguish and slicing… I found truth. Absolution, for the first time in my life. I began to see past the curtain in which I was hiding.33

Flesh. Blood. We were all comprised of it. We were all human, no matter how much we tried to deny it. The way I had fancied myself above others, had seen myself as an immortal treading out of the heavens… it was all a lie. A fantastical and absolute lie. I was nothing more than my own prey. Flesh. Blood. Human.34

My life was a lie. I know that now. It turns out that people do still call the police when something bad happens. That girl, the one which I had so desperately set my sights on, she did the honorable thing. She phoned emergency services. And when my captor dragged me off, unconscious, she followed inconspicuously. Leaving him unaware of her presence. She told them the location of my dissection. She cringed as he began to cut. And then, just as I was coming to a realization, the most important pinnacle of the zenith of my life… The police arrived.35

They detained him, and the paramedics herded me off to the hospital. But I knew it was no use. He had already removed half of my lower intestine – it would only be a matter of time before the bacteria or the lack of organ killed me. They were shocked, completely flabbergasted at my complete awareness and power of control. They told me in hushed tones that my organs had been removed and destroyed. They told me that it didn’t look good. I knew the truth. I knew that I was worth nothing. This was where my lifelong philosophy had gotten me. The back of a spinning ambulance. Laying submissive and bleeding and numb beneath some trained human beings who I would have previously though unworthy of the air that was now so precious to me. But you know what? They weren’t the ones about to die, were they?36

And so I sit here now, writing feverishly with the pen and pencil I forced them to give to me in the emergency room. The doctors and nurses and medical staff are rushing around, trying to save me, trying to win my hand from the devil. I tell them it is no use. I tell them I am worthless. But they do not understand. They have the illusion of significance in their brains. But the real true lies uncovered at least.37

None of us, in the whole breadth of this planet, is worth the air we breathe.38

And out my window, the moon is sighing a final and subjugated sigh.39