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Necessarily Evil

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posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 05:23 PM
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Necessarily Evil
Is he waving? Act surprised. Act happy. “Hi Haliil, what’s up man, how is school going.” I ALMOST GAG AT THE NICETIES COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH. IT WILL BE OVER SOON! IT WILL BE OVER SOON! BE RATIONAL, BE INTENTIONAL, KEEP BEING NICE!! “I haven’t seen you in awhile; I still owe you that fishing trip. You haven’t been without me have you? Good. Do you have summer classes……..well, let’s go this Saturday then. My buddy with the boat has to work, we can take it out, I’ll ask my brother and Amy to go, she wants to see you, how come you haven’t been over much lately. Is it a yes? Great, I’ll pick you up at five Saturday morning; do you still live out in Alumni Village? Uh! You know that place is scary. When are you gonna get a roommate, or a land phone or something? It would be weeks before anyone knew if you fell in the shower out there, all alone. Someone would miss you eventually, but I don’t think anyone, besides me and Amy, knows where you live. Your cell phone is always dead, you usually don’t call back for days. You’re a ghost sometimes. I know, I know, ‘head in the books,’ full-ride, big-time lawyer, yada yada, whatever, I’ll see you Saturday.”

I thought about it, and I couldn’t believe it, but lately I thought about it more and more.. The images of their intertwined bodies cascaded through my mind. A train wreck was throbbing behind my eyes, in my throat, and deep in my loins. It was unstoppable, unbearable. My imagination was surely worse than their actual deeds. Cruelly, I found guilty pleasure, even arousal in the fantasies my mind rehearsed. An entire year of avoiding him culminated today. I could no longer escape this creator of my rage, my ecstasy. Today was certainly a call to action; today he had unknowingly come face to face with his fate, and he would pay for both of their actions. Tunnel vision and my pounding heart still blocked the rational plans I had carefully devised for this occasion. Now in the war room my mind had become, shame and revenge were counseling my thoughts. A Picasso of distorted logic, shrinking rationale, pushing and pulling between my conscious and my unconscious emotion was tearing away inside me. It was clear; he must die! But, I had to think; I had to act clearly, nicely, intentionally.

This would not be difficult. He was an exchange student thousands of miles from family and friends. His few college acquaintances tolerated him, like me. They befriended him out of charity and for the occasional boost of intellect he inserts into their otherwise mundane conversations. He was worldly. Despite being born in Florida, he attended an all male school of the Koran in Pakistan. He lived in London, Switzerland, Paris. His father was a surgeon, and a very traditional Muslim. It was obvious Haliil was a smart fellow, but his mannerisms, his femininity, his arrogance put him at odds with most of us….except the girls. He was tall, thin, and olive skinned, but the girls didn’t normally find him attractive, he was more of the ‘gay friend’ of the group, and that was exactly why the guys hated him. He was certainly not gay. He used this inside approach to gain comfort with the girls. He was a trusted peer to the women, a friend. He had a position most men covet and despise at the same time. He moved in with a friendly hug, a caring shoulder, some fashion advice from Europe, a little humorous talk about the guys; he only needed one chance to score. And his chance came. But why her? Why the forbidden one? Why the married one? Why the one person with the most dire of consequences? Why the one with a husband from the back country. The one with a husband experienced in dealing with his kind of people. The one who moved from state to state to escape the ugliness he was capable of. One night of too much alcohol, too much trust, too much curiosity, and a little too much privacy would cause the extinguishing of this bright, young Pakistani.

He smiles as he leaves. This will be far too easy. He has no idea that I am aware, that I dream nightly of their erotic scenes unfolding, that I awake to his life gurgling out between my calm, calloused hands, and that I can’t return to a peaceful sleep, because I know these are not nightmares. This is not new to me, it happens often. I know in my dream, these are memories, but in physical life they have yet to happen. I also know how simple this act has become. I plan unconsciously in my sleep; I plan in my daydreams; the plan is perfect. It is my most primal instinct. It is simply survival. Survival of my species, my family, my self, he is of less importance to this world than I, and far less important than her. I don’t even have to remind myself anymore that he doesn’t matter, he no longer exists, he is living in a borrowed, sinful, soul-less body. I must protect my family. I must do what is necessary.

For this to work, Saul’s boat must be available all weekend, my brother will have to take a trip for me, and I will have to disappear on Friday night. My alibi will be impregnable. My loyal younger brother would be happy to lie for me, but that is risky. He has to be unaware, he can then truthfully defend me, pass a polygraph if needed, and look steadfast into Amy’s eyes. I need to check with Saul first, it is his boat, and I need for him to buy my apology, my cancellation, and my good intentions. Haliil will smell trouble if I am not very careful. He surely feels the added weight of his guilt around me. Even in my supposed ignorance he will be edgy. Hurry up and ring, “Tire’s R Us, this is Saul.”

“Saul, what’s up, you going fishing this weekend? . . . . .Work! . . . But it’s gonna be beautiful out! How is the boat running? . . . . . Great, what have you been catching lately? Shark! You don’t still use that big, gaudy chummer do you? . . . . . .You are a dinosaur! . . . .HA! I was trying to take my brother and a buddy out this weekend, but if you’re too busy it’s fine, we’ll do it some other time. . . . . . No, I couldn’t just take it; I’d feel bad for you working stiffs back on the shore. . . . . . I know you owe me, but it’s still better when you come along. . . . .Fine. We’ll go this weekend, and Wednesday I’ll help you out at the house. Thanks man! It’s already in the water isn’t it? . . . .Great!”

I feel better. My stomach is tight, like the butterflies I used to get before a big game in a small football town. I enjoy this feeling, it pulls my shoulders back, my head is higher, my posture is perfect. I wish I could give my brother more details, but it will only give him problems. Matt is a good kid, a nice kid. At six years my junior, people still think he is my twin. His main difference is an infectious smile. The switch has worked before, and it continues to work today. He befriends people, and I move in and seal the deals. We are perfect together, but sometimes he has to work blind. He couldn’t pull it off, if he thought anyone could get hurt. I know he has always longed to be involved in my secret dealings, but I have to protect him. He helps unknowingly, because I have to protect him, because I know he would protect me, and I can’t let him pay for my crimes, or worst yet, my sins.
edit on 18-9-2011 by getreadyalready because: (no reason given)




posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 05:24 PM
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“Hey Matt, what’s going on. You weren’t at the gym, were you sleeping? Hey that reminds me, can you do me a favor this weekend. I have two appointments Saturday. I have to go to Albany for some warranty work, but I am supposed to have a first meeting with an important builder in Jacksonville, it will be a quick meeting, but it’s really early Saturday morning. I know you hate getting up, so you can go on Friday night, I’ll give you my check card, and you can spend the night. Get a hotel, have dinner, fill your truck up, I don’t care; just make sure the builder thinks you are me. I don’t want to lose this account, because he thinks I sent a flunky over to meet him. Just to be safe, use my name the whole trip in case you bump into someone else he knows, we look enough alike, if I meet anyone later, they’ll never know the difference. You are a lifesaver. I’ll bring my card by, and all his contact information this Friday.”

I wish I felt worse for this deed I’m planning. I wish this evil would go away. I have never been suspected in any crime. I never have a lack of opportunity to apply my trade. It’s not just Haliil. There is always someone who crosses the line, someone who doesn’t know when to let things be, someone who threatens to sue, someone who threatens to call the police, someone who just will not stay out of the way. I don’t remember how I became responsible for all those someones, but it is necessary. Every one of them had an opportunity to be reasonable, to compromise, to be a good citizen, but these someones always think the world owes them something. In the end they are right, and I’ve been chosen to deliver their justs. These deeds are undoubtedly evil, but still….they are necessary. I am necessary. I free a garden of its parasites, its aggressiveness, the weeds that infiltrate and smother the good seeds, the insects and their greed. I make room for the juicy, generous tomatoes, the Matts, the humble while majestic sunflowers like my father, and the morose roses like Amy, with their soothing fragrance.

I do wish I could share my successes with another human, but it is too dangerous. The people I love and trust could not handle the conscience of these activities. The strangers who eventually become aware do not share my enthusiasm during their final moments. At least this time, I’ll get to imply my involvement to the person who created this mess. She’s seen it before, a newspaper article, a note on a former colleagues door. ‘Random carjacking ends in murder,’ ‘Strong arm robbery leaves man paralyzed,’ just enough to remind her of the seriousness of her indiscretions, although oddly she has never once acknowledged noticing any of the little reminders. She never questions why I like to move out of each town after a couple of years. I guess it is a courteous silence, it would be quite an unpleasant conversation.

What a mess of traffic; I hate turning into Saul’s store. Just last week a girl here honked at me for no reason and cursed out the window, but I forgave her instantly, she has youth, and I didn’t have an opportunity to give her the reasonable ways she could have acted. That is my favorite part, their anger and arrogance when I show them the proper, cordial, logical way to act, I only ask them to apologize and become a better citizen. Then comes the fear; they realize they have made the wrong choice once again, but now they are out of time. The choice is so clear to them, but now it is too late. I can’t understand why the someones always feel invincible until I show them the truth. I wish I could give them the lesson, and then bring them back as believers, but that would end my quest prematurely. Eventually one would forget the gift they had been allowed, the golden lesson they had brought back from the edge of their grave. They would forget and decide to seek cowardly revenge. They would call the police or an attorney, maybe even a henchman. I would welcome the latter. A vengeful act of machismo to prove they are alive once again. They could attack me with a gun, a machete, a dying rage, a vigor for life, a raw animalistic instinct, and I would have no hard feelings. But to use a neutral party does no justice to their inner demon; it is a waste of the generous gift I allowed them. It is a waste of a soul. So instead, they have a one time opportunity to act reasonably, to be considerate of a fellow human, a fellow sheep in our flock. They can make amends for acting rashly. If only they would respect all the sheep as if they were wolves. That is how they must learn. That is how I must teach them. That is what Haliil failed to get from his Koran, he chose to covet another man’s wife, he chose to act rashly, in the heat of passion he forgot about the roaming wolves, and now he will only remember by meeting one.

edit on 18-9-2011 by getreadyalready because: (no reason given)



posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 05:25 PM
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“Saul, good news buddy, we can go out fishing together after all. I have to leave town Friday night, I won’t be back until late Saturday, so why don’t we all go on the boat Sunday. You can bring Kristy, I’ll bring Amy, and I’ll bring the beer and bait. Great! If you want I can have my brother go down on Saturday and clean up, and gas up the boat, it will be ready to go. Are the keys already down there, oh, no problem I’ll get’em on my way through the shop. See ya Sunday morning!”

Saul will be surprised at how clean I get his boat; he will have no idea how messy I will make it the day before. I need supplies, but I can only make one stop so it seems there is only one trip planned. Winn Dixie is the best; the butcher gives me all the bad cuts, the leftover bones, the scraps, the perfect meat to be ground through the chummer. These scraps of blood, meat and bone will go through the chummer Sunday, and help rinse any residue of Saturday’s dealings from the gears and teeth. We will go where I have left the sharks on Saturday, but it will seemingly be a lucky break, a great day of fishing. Then we will feast on the very beasts that devoured my enemy the day before. Beer (3 cases), bleach, cheap biodegradable toilet paper, ice (blocks and crushed), supplies openly bought Friday for ‘Sunday’s’ fishing trip. Pay by check, $20 cash back. Time to drop my card off with Matt.

It’s funny how a dream can say so much with just a few images. A great day fishing in shark infested waters 100 miles offshore. Good friends, good relationships, clear minds, and consciences. There are so many minute details to this plan, but in my dream it was only a few fleeting images, feelings, and thoughts. I knew what had been done, and I knew the alibis were perfect. Saul, Amy, and all my buddies would know I was in Jacksonville Friday night and most of Saturday. Matt would be busy the rest of the weekend, and since I told him I had a lot of work to do, he would never question my activities. Saturday night I would take Amy to a romantic late dinner. My mind will finally be at ease, the torrent of anguish will stop, and only the elation and eroticism will remain. In the unlikely event of an investigation, my alibi will check out with credit card transactions, and witnesses in Jacksonville. My sunburn, my hairs and any blood on the boat is explained by the fishing trip on Sunday. The cleanup of the boat Saturday with bleach and toilet paper will dissolve overboard in the harsh seawater, and Saul will be grateful for such a thorough cleaning job. The body parts of the perpetrator can easily be handled by the antique chummer on Saul’s boat, and the following days bait running through it will be an insurance policy. I won’t leave any pieces of him big enough for identification, but if I do the sharks, minnows, and crabs will take care of them in a matter of hours. He will be missing for days, before a teacher or someone notices, and then after his friends are contacted they won’t communicate directly to the police. They will probably call me, and after a couple of more days, I will call his family. It will be weeks, before his family can get to town, and then they will have no idea of his daily habits. They won’t be able to provide any leads to assist the police. The police will be skeptical at first because of Haliil’s nationality. The concern will be on the possible intentions of this missing Pakistani grad student, not his well-being. They will give a show of effort, but mostly the police will delve into his finances, his studies, and his family origins, not much more. If I missed any cleanup, or details, the harsh sun and sea will take care of it as the days pass. My fingerprints, hairs and everything else at his residence mean nothing; we were friends. One piece of evidence did exist; I made sure. My sole connection to that day, the Polaroid of me and him smiling on the boat on a bright, sunny Saturday, it too is in the sea. That Sunday . . . . . as soon as I pulled it from my pocket . . . . . as soon as I let her take a quick glimpse at it not knowing why it was important . . . . I let it slip into the breeze behind the boat. It meant nothing to her that day, but she will recall it as the search for her lover intensifies. She will once again be aware of the harsh penalty her actions mandated. She will know the evil in herself, just as Haliil knew the day before. She will see the evil in her world, and she will know it can never go away. She will look for the evil in me, but she won’t find it. I am at peace. I know evil well, and I know we are necessary.



posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 05:25 PM
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You need to moderate yourself...

A wall of text?



posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 05:26 PM
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reply to post by roughycannon
 


LOL!

Cut and Paste issues. There are paragraphs now.



posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 05:26 PM
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reply to post by roughycannon
 


Leave him alone, even mods need to vent.



posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 05:28 PM
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reply to post by getreadyalready
 


I see its fixed now, think I got into the thread too quickly before you fixed it!




posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 06:30 PM
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Wow. I am so very familiar with all those feelings you are describing in your story. For different reasons, though. Pity that scumbag will never choose to be on a boat, just with me, sailing far on waters rich in sharks or any other nasty predators



posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 06:59 PM
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Awesome!

Loved this part : "I don’t remember how I became responsible for all those someones, but it is necessary. Every one of them had an opportunity to be reasonable, to compromise, to be a good citizen, but these someones always think the world owes them something."


Creepy character you conjured up, but I kind of empathized with him, in a small way. Thanks for sharing!
edit on 18-9-2011 by queenofsheba because: add quotes



posted on Sep, 18 2011 @ 07:02 PM
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reply to post by queenofsheba
 


This was written long before "Dexter" hit HBO, but it is a similar character. A creepy darkside, but only when people deserve it, and only when they have been given a chance to be decent, and they refuse.

Tinges of my own darkside in there, but luckily it only escapes into fiction, LOL!



posted on Oct, 12 2011 @ 11:15 AM
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I love this!



posted on Oct, 14 2011 @ 04:50 PM
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reply to post by getreadyalready
 


Very nicely done. I got hints of dexter before I read your post about that, it's odd how sometimes we write things long before they become our television realities hey...
I loved the use of sentence fragments as he is trying to justify his actions, his sense of right for an act the mind considers wrong is very good also, it really gets inside the mind and the way we think when humans consider moral questions.
In all enjoyed reading this very much, well done



posted on Oct, 14 2011 @ 07:54 PM
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reply to post by 74Templar
 


Thank you very much!!


It was the hardest to switch between actions, inner-dialogue, and actual conversation. It made sense in my head, but when I put it down on paper it didn't make any sense, LOL! I hope it wasn't too difficult to follow.



posted on Oct, 14 2011 @ 09:42 PM
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reply to post by getreadyalready
 


Writing is often like that, a slow process that takes more than putting words on paper (or computer in this case). I have sometimes written entire pages, gone back and realised they were no good. Experience from life is a good thing when putting thoughts into words, I often ask myself how would I think about that or how would I react to that, and that's a good start when writing out thoughts.
Honestly though, even though the genre is not my preferred topic, I found myself unable to stop, always a good sign from a writer's presepctive.
Keep up the good work man, and remember, don't be afraid to get your work out there.



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