The Murder.

One heinous act. Three lives forever changed.

Photo by Haroon Niaz on Unsplash

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Written a day late, I present to you The Murder — a poem featuring three perspectives around one heinous act. This is based around Bradley Ramsey’s Day 1 Prompt for The Halls of Pandemonium. Please enjoy, or feel something, whichever it is you prefer.

Dominik

A loud crash, much like shattering glass,
Disturbs my nap.

Stirring with a groan, my eyes blink, the
World coming into focus.

A man stands in my living room, staring at
Me — his clothes dark and clouded.

It is then I notice it, his wielding of a sharp
Blade, cusped firmly in his hand.

But before either of us can say anything,
A panicked scream erupts from the
Kitchen.

My wife, braver than most — and much
To my horror — charges him.

It happens in a flash, I jump from my
Recliner, racing over to save her.

But it is too late, the man reacts quickly,
Plunging the knife deep into her neck…
Then it is pulled out, and he stares as
She cries and drops to the floor, his eyes
Widening in the same disbelief as my own.

And then he disappears, running the
Same way he arrived, but I don’t chase him.

Instead, my knees buckle, pulling me
Down to the floor and towards my beloved.

The paralysis of overwhelming fear
Has taken me prisoner.

Kayla

I was in the kitchen when I heard it,
The sound of glass shattering.

My hands continued their prep —
A chopping of veggies as I readied myself
For making dinner.

It took a moment to process the noise.

But then I saw him, my husband, staring at
A man wearing dark clothes — a deep dagger
So unkindly present in the stranger’s grasp.

Fear clamored up my spine and
Released itself as an anxious scream,
And then the adrenaline kicked in.

I don’t quite remember the next part.

Just that I was on the ground, gasping for air —
My husband pleading, cradling me in his arms,
And the stranger? Nowhere to be seen.

I can hardly feel anything.

Jackson

Shit… ohhhh shit.

Killing someone wasn’t part
Of the plan.

Fuuuuuccckkkkk.

It’s dark outside, and I can
Barely see, and the scene keeps
Replaying in my head.

That man’s stare, his wife’s
Guttoral howling.

And now… her life
On the line.

Fuck this.

…

Why… isn’t he chasing me?

The question buries itself into my mind,
And I slow to a stop, just down the road.
Guilt spreads across my face,
Settling in much like a disease.

What have I done?

Hesitantly, I turn and begin jogging back.
I know I can’t change what I did but…

Can I at least make things
Right?