November 2000 ....................... [load original version ]

The beginning is a very delicate time, a rabid time for his distorted eyes. In the darkness of a neglected room, the sound of Alfred’s footsteps approached. Alfred was a housekeeper at a Scarlet Villa for a number of years.

Catherine was already there.

“Ah, milady, what brings you to these dark and shadowy rooms?”

Catherine smoked her usual thin cigarettes, the ones her husband bought for her when he returned from Africa last year.

“Love, my dear Alfred, love. Haven’t you ever been in love?” She strived hard to reach the depth of his baby blue eyes, as he gallantly stood there, in front of her.

“Yes, I was in love, long time ago…” with a hidden look he nostalgically spoke these silent words.

“Bad times those are, milady, I would rather not to talk about them.” He bowed and walked away to the door, wanted to get out of the room.

“Tell me! My dear Alfred.” Catherine said, as his hand reached for the door handle. “You work for me, and this is my request. Speak!” She was literally stabbing him with her dictator, yet very erotic look. Arrogantly, she shook off some cigarette ash to a table ashtray.       

With no obvious choice, Alfred talked about his memoirs from the days when he attended King’s Medical School. His story led to a usual end. Still, milady patiently listened to this melodic story about unforgotten romance of two student lovers.

Alfred prose.

“And then, one day, I found her in bad with my best friend…”

“Oh my god, how tragic.” Milady patronized him and puffed the cigarette smoke away. “For god’s sake Alfred, haven’t you ever laughed in your life? Haven’t you ever laughed… at life? Ah, how stupid and naïve you are, did you really expect her to be faithful to you forever?” Catherine sardonically laughed as he stared at her wickedness.  

While she was enjoying her loud and happy moment, Alfred turned to a fireplace, grabbed a burning fire-iron, and buried it madly into her forehead. Neglected room momentarily expelled the noise and once again breathed rotten, unbearable silence.

The blood scrolled down the Persian carpet, as Catherine’s unfinished cigarette still lived in between her numb fingers. The clock finally hit midnight.

“How stupid and naïve you are, did you really think you were going to live throughout the end of this conversation?”

He threw the fire-iron on the floor and walked out of the room with a smile on his face because he still has never told anyone the end of the story about his first murder.