What a nice day for murder


What a nice day for a murder

The day I realized I had a special power is still so vivid. Not that there’s anything weird about that off course It happened to be the same day my family deserted the little girl that I was at that time.

We were at the hospital, visiting Dora. She was the girl next door and broke her arm while biking around our neighbourhood. My parents insisted that we checked in which meant that we played on the bed while they talked about the dangers of riding a bike. The doctor, a nice old man with lots of white hairs sneaking up from under the brown ones, gave us a stethoscope so we could play doctor. I was the doctor and Dora played the patient.

‘ Doctor? Am I going to be ok?’ Asked Dora. I moved the stethoscope in a professional way around her chest and said in a stern voice: ‘I’m sorry, but you are about to die.’ Every form of the word death was enough for our parents to pay attention to us and my mother gave me a very angry look.

‘Sst! Don’t talk crazy. Be nice and play.’

‘I’m not playing anymore. She is really going to die soon.’

Dora’s parents looked at me frightened and my mother gave me the you-ruined-my-life-look. To cover up her stupid daughter she began to laugh softly.

‘Such a crazy girl. Always saying strange sentences. I don’t know were she gets it.’ She exchanged a quick look with my father and declared we had to go. ‘I’m sorry about Moira. She usually doesn’t behave like this.

‘Bye Dora!’ I called while mother pulled me out of the room. ‘I’ll see you in heaven!’ Dora, who didn’t understand what was going on looked surprised at my sudden departure but still managed to wave back at me with a smile on her face.

My fathers face in het hallway showed my future. At home he gave me a beating. I was still crying from the pain when the phone rang. Mother answered the phone and soon she was crying and screaming. I always knew she was a bit dramatic, but this time she seemed to be really worried. I was really worried. As soon as mother hung up the phone, she and my dad started a heating discussion. Every feeling in me told me this was going to end badly. The fact that Dora died didn’t surprise me, I had already seen it. But I knew they were talking about my foreseeing vision of her death and mother didn’t like this special gift at all. And as with Dora I was right. My parents decided they couldn’t live with the shame of having a murdering child, so they were putting me in an orphanage. My father broke the news and I broke in to tears a second time.

Come, come Moira. We will visited you very often. You’ll understand when you’re older. This kind of shame will mean our social downfall. You know how your mother is.’ I was ten years old and didn’t get a word of my dad’s apology. Not that it really mattered. I’m fifteen now and it still doesn’t make sense how they justified a decision like this. But it was still my dad and despite everything I still trusted him. So without a fight they brought me to the orphanage.

I heard them lying to the head mistress of Happy Faces Orphanage for girls. They lied about being friends of my parents who had recently passed away. It was impossible for them to take care of my so the orphanage was their only option. Throughout the conversation I caught the head mistress staring at me from behind her huge desk and every time our eyes crossed she threw me a sad and pitiful smile.

It didn’t take my parents long to abandon me forever. Even though my mother was afraid to touch me after the incident she still had tears in her eyes. My father picked me up and cuddled me. I could make out soft words while he stroked my hair. ‘I’m so sorry, little Moira. I promise I’ll be back for you.’ But as it turned out, my father’s words were as empty as my mother’s heart.

Life in Happy Faces orphanage for girls wasn’t all bad. All torn after abandonment and afraid of re-enactment I didn’t let anyone get close. I exchanged polite words with some girls, but never became a true friend. This was also the time my power started to evolve. I couldn’t escape it anymore. Every time I saw someone, I instantly knew when they were going to die. I didn’t tell anyone off course. Luckily I was a fast learner.

At twenty-one I was set free into the big bad world. My parents didn’t come to visit me once in these eleven years. Father did send me a card on my first birthday in Happy Faces, but that was as much as I was going to get. On my liberation day I noticed I didn’t feel the need to find my parents. I had no intention of yelling at them or telling them what they should have done. I was free now; it was time to start over. And this time I was on my own.

With some luggage and a shoulder bag I knocked the door of a big house that had a sign saying ‘Rooms for Rent’. An old man opened and let me in. Immediately I saw his time was up by midnight. I smiled sheepish and was let in. The old man gave a tour of the house and showed all my future roommates. Most of them were students, but some were like me. We recognized each other by the dead eyes and grey dull skin. They were all teenagers, but none of them were alive and jumping as you saw them on TV. I liked it. I tricked the old man into paying for my room a day late and after he closed the door of my new room I was finally alone. Alone and free. Free to do whatever. And for the first time in eleven years I looked out of my window, on to a street, saw when everyone was going to die and I smiled.

One response to “What a nice day for murder

  1. My first story! It’s not quite finished yet, but putting something on this site felt quite necessary. As soon as I have more about Moira and her Death-ray-vision, you’ll find out!

    The title is stolen from the Babyshambles song ‘Lost art of murder’ from their latest album Shotter’s Nation. It’s pretty ok, give it a try!

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