by Mark Holme
A democracy should mean that you all have a say, what do you have a say on? You vote for a man you want to run the country, you got a combination that was never offered. Why are we incapable of ruling ourselves? Are we children incapable of fending for ourselves, not wanting to share our toys?
When things go wrong we try to escape, we try to do what Leonidas does and find any fantasy that fits. Some go the other way, some deviate towards the worst possible outcome from little blips in their rollercoaster life. Just accept how things are and act upon them!
“Every man is a creature of the age in which he lives and few are able to raise themselves above the ideas of the time.”
You are all tied down by the views of others, it was once acceptable to behead someone who disagreed with you. To keep slaves like animals. To treat women as second class citizens. Racism was not only acceptable, but encouraged. Spartans murdered there disfigured children. It was brilliant.
Only two men have ever elevated themselves above the age they are born to. Adolf Hitler, and Leonardo da Vinci. The brutality and the genius. I have taken inspiration from both. I am elevating myself to rise above them all.
Some men are born great, some men evolve into greatness, and others are like you. Others are useless.
“It takes billions of years to create a human being. And it takes only a few seconds to die.”
Billions of years to create what you have become today. You are a disease. No other animal causes so much destruction, and worse of all you do it with a clean conscience. Giving humans intelligence was the worst thing that ever happened to this world.
You think you know what you are doing, you do not. Making decisions you do not have the right to make. Playing god when you are an ant.
I hate humans. I love your ignorance. Your destruction of each other is inspirational. Your inability to cooperate. If you disagree you kill. You could talk, you could compromise. With the whole world watching you do not want to appear weak, you want to survive. I’m afraid you have failed. I’m afraid you will kill or be killed very soon.
Leo will speak to you of human demise. He is a compulsive liar.Talks of how the world is, and how the world should be. He is as clueless as us all. A bitter monster. A manipulative being.
He is under my skin, I do not know what to believe, if I believe that Hitler won the war we are both going to be imprisoned for years, for our lives. If I believe that Hitler lost he will kill you all. I’m sorry world, it is me or you. Am I a good man?
A good man has the morals of a saint, but he does not give in so easily. He strives each day to be better than he was the last. To be kinder, to do more for the human race, to inspire ant to mountain. I am not a good man. Maybe I was once. A good child at least. I have not been a child since I was seven years old. I am barely a man. I am a monster. It appears that one good deed will not redeem what I have done. I know Leo did it, but Leo is me and I am him.
I know what the truth is. The truth is Hitler lost the war. The truth is you are already dead.
Marched through our own front door our mind works as one, it is like
someone finishing you sentence
for you. It is strangely empowering. Two minds are better than one, our minds are better than everyone’s. I regret that you will all die
but it is inevitable.
You are all slowly dying anyway, some quicker than others, but what is death accept the next step in life? You are mourned in this world, but who knows what doors death opens.
It closes all doors.
Are you not at least curious what happens when you die? Were you will end up? I am. I just don’t want to die yet. I’m as curious about what Leo will cause as much as I am curious what will happen when we are gone.
The world is beautiful through the eyes of a child, the innocence, the aspirations, the joy and wonder, the great adventure every day. The adventure of life. You could say this story is an adventure of life, or how to cling onto it anyway. It is also a story of Love. And Fame. And Friendship. And whatever else you choose to make of it.
The world is destroyed by the eyes of a child, they took away my innocence, my aspirations. The adventure of life is entertaining, I’m afraid this is an adventure of death now. My love story has ended. My fame is about to begin. I have but one friend. Myself. I have made my choices. Now you must make yours.
I look around and the mirage is broken, the SS officers are plane clothed policemen. The red flags do not exist. Detective Spencer is just a man. I miss my fantasy. It is like I have been living in that brief moment between sleep and life for years. Hypnopompic it is called.
Now that we are on the same page it is clear to me that I am the voice inside. I was a man once now I am an idea. Barely a voice.
As we are thrown viscously into the back of the van, two officers getting in with us, I know that Leo will set us free. I will kill them all. I know that we are safe. I wonder what happens if we die, am I trapped inside this body forever? A voice incapable of decaying. I live in the brain, if the brain dies, I die. To think all this time, he thought he was in control.
I smiled calmly at the guards. I confused them. I scared them. If they understood my thought process they would not be half as afraid but they will never understand us.
Our minds raced, overlapping each other. Building on each other. We were brilliant. It was like viewing the world in slow motion through a lens that gave you information on every tiny detail. The weak spot on the door lock. The tightness of the hand cuffs. The little look the guards gave each other, the look that said can you believe this guy.
I have planned all along, nit picking to the point of insanity. Together we don’t need to plan, we are no longer fighting the war at two fronts.
There is only one last choice to be made, to be deceitful or to be violent.We are so good at both I cannot decide. We have decided already.
Jack had abandoned us, he had given up. He was free.He was looking for his child. His child that sleeps behind our fridge. How could we do this? He is a child! He is a valuable asset.
“Out of curiosity, how many people did I kill? I lost count after the first four.”
“21, you killed 21.”
Bitterness like you can’t imagine! It almost physically hurt. Eyes attempting to pierce my skin. Even here, in this dimly lit metal box, these people of power. These people controlling us. They were powerless. Angry, but powerless.
“hmm, that’s less than I thought, are you sure that is right?” The tall guards quickly wised up to our game and remained silent.
“I see, the silent treatment. Did you know a limb can still ache once it has been decapitated? It’s the same with skin to, I have seen flesh burn clean from the bone yet the beast still scream in pain. I suppose you haven’t found that one yet. That one is in my private collection.” We licked our lips and closed our eyes with pleasure “The taste of roast flesh is delicious, you boys really should try it sometime”
One of them winced slightly. We saw it.
“You look at me like I am mad, yet you do nothing about it. You are not allowed to. I am guilty, we all know it’s true. You think I deserve to die, yet you take me to be imprisoned. You are pathetic”
“You will rot forever in a cell, being beaten daily by the inmates, think you’re a big man? Think you’re tough? You are nothing.” The fatter one spoke, not looking us in the eye. He was still afraid of us.
“I am the most important man you will ever encounter. We are nothing you cretin, I am just a bit more nothing than you. I will always win. You have rules. You have morals and ideologies you are glued to. They will be the nails in your coffin lid.”
We were angering them, we wanted to anger them. An angry man does not fight as well as one with a clear head.
“Win, you have already lost!” the other guard piped up. The gym addict.
“I am getting a bed and three meals a day, exercise and books. You may need more than this to be happy. I do not. It will be
one long relaxation holiday. A reward for my hard work.”
They were both sick of our words. A prisoner should be silent. Should be sad. We were on the verge of celebrating. We were on the verge of killing. Are you sure this is what you want Leo, are you sure this is righteous.
There was a silence. A silence that introduced something sinister. We all knew something was going to happen.
We charged at the closest guard, the muscular one, jaw open. Heads clashing, our vision blurred momentarily, then the blood sprayed out. Our teeth sunk deep into his cheeks, the tasty bits; moving onto the rest of his face as he struck us in the stomach desperate to break the grip. Two grown men could not remove us from his face, like a dog that will not release its grip.
We finished our meal with an eye ball; it tasted disgusting so we spat it in the fat ones face. The face we released was no longer a face at all. The bone could be seen clearly beneath the layer of blood as the man screamed. Blinded by his own body fluids.
A muscular grip held us around the neck, fingers picking us by our Adams apple and pinning us against the wall. He had so much rage he could not decide how to hurt us. How to kill us. No one would mourn the death of a serial killer.
It was almost the end for us.
The fat faceless creature ran towards the crisscross metal wire that separated the driver’s cabin, screaming like a baby. His fingers just fit, squishing through the gaps, the driver saw him in his rearview mirror and swerved uncontrollably.
Suddenly the van was upside down, then straightened, then on it’ side, shattered glass from the windscreen spraying our face. The muscular one released his grip as we floated around the back of the van like rag dolls. The fat ones fingers were sliced by the metal barrier, floating around the van as though in space. The exit door was blocked. Smoke was rising from the bonnet. It seemed so fitting to die this way. To burn like our parents.
Jack was ecstatic. Then he was guilty. His boy was safe, but he was missing. He could barely concentrate on the road as his red tt rumbled along at way over the speed limit. Trapped been elation and desperation.
His mind was completely taken over by his boy. Every inch of him wanted to celebrate, but to celebrate would be wrong, would be evil.
His mind was stuck on the little boy in the lift, the innocent child who had been the only contributor to the first murder, to Sam Morgan’s death. His step son had asked him in simple terms “Will you be my father?” and what had Jack said? He said no. he regretted this action to his core. He had taken his issues with the child’s mother out on the child. That is a terrible thing.
Taking your anger out on those who don’t deserve it is a cruelty. To make others bear the retributions for another’s actions is absurd, is it not? So why do we fight wars and die, because our leaders have fallen out? War should be a last resort not the first option.
Arriving home, he was tired of thinking about how he should feel. It was like trying to plan having fun. You have the most fun when there isn’t a plan. Guilty or ecstatic it did not matter. He would feel how his body decided he would feel not how he chose to feel.
The devil was living right under his nose, the scent hidden by his private life. He has to have a life. He has to catch killers. Is it better to be selfish or do what is right for the greater good?
Is it worth the effort to save a marriage? It may be better for all if you just walk away. You don’t want to walk away, you can’t walk away, you can’t be happy by yourself. Fliss had been so close to Jack since the loss of her son. If he is found will she still care for Jack? Tragedy for one is victory for another. Sometimes you have to say enough, you have to draw a line under the final chapter.
Chapter 20
Change
Many people struggle with endings. With letting go. It may be the finality of it all, the inability to change anything. If it is over. It is over. Life is continuously changing, adapting, growing. Without an end there can be no significant change, but some people cannot deal with change either.
Change is natural. Change in necessary. Leo understood that change was needed, but he cared about the planet - not the people. It is easy to say something is fixed if it is destroyed. Saving something is much harder. Much more strenuous. You need patience, skill, urgency. You need a miracle. Change is needed. The world knows it, it is trying its best, but is its best good enough?
We are all hypocrites when change goes wrong, forgetting that hindsight is invaluable. Mistakes are obvious to see after they have happened, but almost impossible to predict.
Leonidas has made too many mistakes. Caused too much pain. The world has won in the end. Leonidas is dead. Burned like his parents with them as his final thought. That is a change that he will not see.
So many what ifs. The butterfly effect makes it impossible to predict what would have been, what could have been. There are always going to be impacts of your actions that you cannot see. That you will never see.Every tiny choice you make has a huge impact on the world, even aiming for salvation you can cause evil. Leo thought he was doing right, he was not. Hitler thought he was doing right, he wasn’t either. Do not let us go down in history as the civilization that destroyed the world.
Jack doesn’t know about Leonidas’ death yet. He will not even care when he finds out. Jack is a man who does not know if he is doing right or wrong. Jack is a man full of bitterness and revenge. An unpleasant work obsessed man that ignores his own family. Leonidas was abused, but these children are abused just as much by Jack’s shadow.
His knee length trench coat swayed in the breeze as he walked up the concrete path. The iron railing along the way rusting. Sounds of arguing families floating down from the open window mixed with the scent of their meal. It smelt like bacon tonight.
Detective Spencer was tied down by his indecision, now he has made it he feels free. He was Apollo holding up the world, now he has given up the world. Tossed it to one side to let it float around in space, slowly disintegrating like a poisoned apple.
Jack was going to leave them all.
He was going to do what he wanted.
Something was wrong. The flat block door has a blood hand print on the handle. Jack placed his hand directly upon the hand print, to open the door, blood covering the palm of his hand. Sweat dripping down his face. Cold sweat.
A red blood trail led up the grey stone staircase, the red brick road.
Jack was shaking, holding the rail to help steady himself as he tentatively crept up the staircase. His black brogues tip toeing around the blood path.
His fears were realized when he saw the trail leading to his door, he opened it with his eyes closed. A small tear droplet in the corner of his eye.
Eyes panning the room, everything seemed normal. Blood splattered everywhere, but nothing that Jack hadn’t seen at any other crime scene. One thing gave Jack hope, despite the evidence. No corpses. His step son’s body was not lying at the doorstep. The door to the dining room had another red handprint on it.
Inside the dining room Jack’s ears filled with blood, the sound blocked out as his skin became numb. Hair all over his body stood tall, to get a better look at the wonder that was before it. The room was ice cold.
There are some moments in your life time were you feel nothing, your body is incapable of emotions vast enough to represent what has occurred. It is either too sad, or happy, for the brain to comprehend. Life changing moments.
Jack changed. This is the very moment that he regretted everything; that he truly gave up with the world. When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. You have no rules or restraints. No consequences for your actions. You are nobody, but you are a free nobody.
Jack had not yet reached this freedom, Jack was still numb.
Before him lay the most horrendous sight he could have imagined, before him lay his life torn apart. Around the table his wife and children sat, including the small boy John.
Their hands were nailed together in the image of The Praying Han
ds, barbwire holding their wrist together like prayer beads wrapped around so gently. Their faces turned towards him, the girl’s hair half hiding their faces, but the boy’s face was clear. The boy’s face was smiling. A smile forced onto his cold skin.
On the wall a perfect oil painting on white canvas lay, around 1m x 2m vertically orientated on the wall behind the faces staring at him. It was an image most men never get to see. Their own dead bodies staring back at them. Jack had been painted nailed to the cross in a desert. His heart pinned to a tiny cross beside his body.
Jack went into a rage that is hard to imagine. What would you do to the person who killed your family? Who took it all away from you, everything you had earned. A boy who laughed in your face, then killed them all. He beat his fist against the table again and again until he couldn’t raise his hand anymore. Tears of sadness never appeared, he had tears of rage. There is a phrase “seeing red”; Jack saw beyond the red mist into the fire that burned brightly behind it. He saw what anger really looks like; the personification of anger was unstoppable. The personification of anger was himself. So much anger that he could not think.
What did this mean? What was the symbolism behind it all? It meant there is more than one way to die. If you kill the heart, you kill the beast. Perhaps. Perhaps it was much simpler than that. Perhaps it simply meant what had been written on the table in blood:
You Lose
I did not lie when I said that Leonidas was dead. He is. He cannot return. Leo is very much Alive. We entered that police van together, I leave alone.
The smoke rising from the bonnet quickly engulfed the driver, the fat one was too busy crying over his injuries to notice us pick him up and ramming him into the locked doors. They sprung open with ease, the van lying on its side, the muscular one was struggling to stand.
I walked calmly away from the death and misery, walking casually towards my freedom. My hands tied together and my white shirt plastered with blood, I raised my hands as one to straighten my tie.