Here is the second instalment of my successful night of writing in the 642 Things to Write About book by the San Francisco Writer’s Grotto.
This particular prompt took me down a path that was a littler darker than I had intended. You know the way you start out with an idea, and fully intend on writing it down, but when you start putting pen to paper something else just seems to emerge from the depths of your brain? Well that is what happened with this prompt.
Prompt 2: Write a scene that begins: “It was the first time I killed a man.”
“It was the first time I killed a man.”
The wary reporter faltered, his pen coming to a stop on his writing pad while the Dictaphone recorded on. He looked up and Henry looked back at him with a look of feigned innocence on his face. The reporter motioned for Henry to continue on, even though he was now painfully aware of how small the metallic table that separated them truly was.
“Yes it was the first time I killed a man when I knew it was my mission in life to rid the earth of vile, meaningless creatures. I knew being a Vicar wasn’t my only role, and when those thugs broke into my church, it was like a sign from God that I should punish the worms who dared to desecrate his house.”
Henry paused for a moment, as if savouring the memory for all that it was worth. He continued on in an almost wistful tone.
“I picked up a heavy, golden cross and bashed one of them over his head. This caused the other two cowards to scarper, with the evening’s collection tumbling from their pockets. The other one lay wounded on the thick, red carpet, which was being dyed a darker colour due to his blood. His breathing was laboured and I could tell he was in a considerable amount of pain, so I decided the best thing for him was to rid him of his misery. I took the cross and bashed his brains in. He was dead within seconds. I’ll always remember how the crack of his skull sounded like a clap of God’s thunder, and it resonated through me, through my very being. After I had disposed of the body in the graveyard, I set about cleaning the mess, and I was truly happy for what felt like the first time.”
The reporter had suppressed a shudder, and Henry could tell. He smirked and then finished his story in a condescending manner.
“Well you know how the story goes from there. For 15 years I cleared the world of evil. The Martin brothers was the first time I had used acid to get rid of the bodies, and the Harris woman was the first time I had used a cleaver. I felt it only befitting as she was a cheating Butcher’s wife. It was the media that gave me the title of “Hell’s Vicar” and it seems to have stuck with me, even here on Death Row.