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Good lord… Oh, God--oh God! I am astonished, appalled--thoughts swim furiously through my mind like so many rampant fish, cavorting about in patterns sporadic and maddening. I shut my eyes tightly, trying in vain to cease the wild, chaotic dance of my subconscious, and to block the gruesome scene before me--and though I yearn to escape the horror, the gore, those eternally blank and staring eyes!--I cannot. Even as I attempt to hinder my vision, blinding myself with whatever bristly, unpleasant fabric created the sleeve of my cloak, trapping my eyes in their sockets, forbidding them to wander past the everlasting darkness… still, I see her--that sweet, innocent woman, laughing gaily at eccentric and silly diatribes shared by her dear son; gasping excitedly--nay, ecstatically!--as her brilliant boy entices her with legends from around the globe; gazing dreamily at him, tired eyes twinkling proudly, as he regales her with the tales of his numerous intellectual pursuits; smiling warmly as she, anticipating his want for a quick departure, cleverly embraces her son before he can refuse… and still I see her as she cries out--that astonished, confused yelp of unexpected agony--that sudden, shrill ejaculation paired with a simpleton’s gawp of bemused surprise… and I watch as she realizes, recoils, her arms slipping away from her son’s waist, scrambling to halt the expected flow of blood, to extricate the knife from her spine… and I see her son, darting about in restless enthrallment, I gazing on helplessly as he laughs and laughs and she writhes painfully upon the floor… Oh, Aldus… Oh, Aldus! How could he? …How can--how can a man knowingly end the life of his own mother?…

…It is over, finished. I have accomplished my greatest task, made real my wildest dream! She is dead--that sorry, old hag is dead--and by my hand! How absolutely splendid--it is an honor to have ended that horrid woman’s miserable existence! Never mind my silly intellectual achievements--an Ivy League graduation here, a dead language or two learned there--I have carried out the most fantastic plot ever conceived in this otherwise useless lump of moldering putty that I call a brain. People may despise me, ostracize me--call me, “monstrosity!”--but I care not! I have given this horrible woman mercy--I have put her out of her sorrow, terminated her suffering, removed from her all pains of life--and I have managed to mitigate my own pain as well. With this new development, there shall be no more tedious visits--no more stale tea biscuits and dull, inane chatter--no more cutesy anecdotes retold, heard from forgotten acquaintances--no more harsh, biting criticisms, nagging, mindless philosophy--no more Mother! I am free, free from this terrible burden! I feel wonderful--weightless--as if I could simply flail my arms and take to the skies! If only Oxnard could understand--I imagine he was quite pained by this rather grisly event, and most likely has not recovered as of yet…

…Aldus--the cunning intellectual, the erudite scholar, the bilingual master of academia--the genius! How could he have been so horribly foolish, so clever in his youth, and yet, so utterly dumb now? I can vaguely understand his twisted logic in inviting me to this sickening celebration--I am, after all, his dearest and closest friend. The man is not thinking rationally by any means, and though it pains me to so much as think it, he requires some assistance… and that, as his friend, I am obligated and inclined to provide. I do not rightly know if I shall be capable of doing so, however--every time I glance at her body--her hideous, mutilated, gore-splattered body--the instinct to escape and alert the authorities grows drastically, rapidly increasing in its ludicrous enormity. I can only hope that this is imaginary--it seems all too surreal to be truly happening--and that perhaps Aldus, terrifying comical joker that he is, is only duping me with some grand, elaborate lark--a harsh one, at that--though it is strange to make jest of your own mother’s demise…

…Oxnard--that idiot oaf! It was a great error on my part to have called him here--I wish to celebrate this triumph, and wrongly assumed dimwitted he would be pleased to partake in the festivities! He is a complete ignoramus--and I think this on the basis that there is no evidence that points to the contrary, as of yet. He has confessed to me his anxiety--buffoon! If he is this troubled of my mother’s death, perhaps he should join her in the afterlife!…


…Aldus has exited the room to fetch champagne, the loon. Deranged as he is, a minute part of my heart still clings to our waning friendship, begging me to remain loyal to him--though this is a trifle difficult to discern over the screaming of my conscience. My thoughts conflict--I wish to aid my helplessly maniacal friend, but I simultaneously wish for justice to be done… and to preserve my own sanity. I love Aldus--he is nearly my brother--but when I see his mother sprawled about the floor, resting gruesomely in a pool of her own blood, face frozen in the manifestation of horror, knife protruding, somehow perfectly erect, from her back, I--…

…There is nothing more to do--and thankfully so, as this tumultuous day has exhausted me. I have rid myself of horrid, malevolent Mother--and of pestering Oxnard as well. His death came easily enough--I simply struck him in the cranium with the chilled bottle of champagne (quite similarly to how one might christen a stately ship) and down he went, limbs splayed, blood pumping frightfully quickly from his head, fallen atop of mother…

…Well, my dearest companions, to recall a bit of Latin… Sileo en pacis!





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