Man Who Killed The World


"I woke up."

"I touched myself and didn't die."

It seemed a to be a curious minute of reflection and it did surprise him to feel this extent of reverie for the the simple fact that his mortal coil was going to get very interesting in the next few days. A purpose to end all purposes.

The shadow on the windowsill ornaments drew premonitious symbols on the floor.

It had to be this way.

"I got up and went downstairs. And as I was dragging my knuckles upon the rail of the steep spiral staircase, I savored the roughness of it."


Rachel was 23 years old and wanted oh-so-much to earn the money to buy her own condo.
Her landlady had promised to hold on the offers for some time (she liked her)
The rattling of her bicycle chain was a soothing hymn of consequence.
Inevitable with its quiet relentless *whirrr*

It brought her home.

She was happy to see her reflection by the seaside carnival mirrors that waited for her to drive by for the very reason.

 In her heart she was an artist, feeling the pangs of inexplicable little fragments of beauty in her paintbrush as it went over the canvas.
The looking glass of her inner soul convulsing within and without.


Charles had a problem. A transitory credit problem.
You see, Charles is an addict. He kind of likes chasing his first high.
Those cloudy skies, relentless eyes and the feeling of freedom. Maybe even if that is a lie an adroit detachment from everything.
Crossing the street, he tries to hold his hands straight.
3 inches of cold sweaty steel hug his palm like a sentence.
The knife weights a ton, but the beast must be fed.
Dealer approaches Charles with a sneering condescending look.

Rachel turned the corner and veered straight into a woman knocking her aside, losing control of her bike; down she went easily controlling the fall into a graceful sitting position almost without any effort at all.

Charles quickly stepped back, barely avoiding the collision with the bike and its rider.

Their eyes met. Oceans of meaning connecting them together for the moment.

She smiled.

He lunged for the dope that the dealer had dropped.

I stepped in between them, crossed my arms and took their lives with a light caressing touch.

Rachel´s skin was smooth, Charles's hair was coarse.

No pain. No more.

The dealer lost a shoe while stumbling back on hands and knees. She fell down and wept for her life.

To no avail.

"I had no tears. No more. None. Forever."

"All must die."