Is It Really Murder? (writing sample)

Usually it won't kill you to give someone a gift. But when my husband gave me a new set of kitchen knives for our anniversary, it was different. 

A year ago, or a week ago, or even yesterday, I would have been horrified at having committed murder. Although, until today, the way that I looked at the world was much more linear. But today I'm feeling pretty okay about murder. He wasn't exactly innocent anyway. Did he really think that cheating on his wife wouldn't have any consequences?

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that death by kitchen knife might be a little too harsh of a punishment for a guy sleeping around. But you should have heard his apologies. Killing him didn't even cross my mind until I listened to him try to explain his behavior. In fact, it never really crossed my mind.

"It was just hormones!" he had justified. "I didn't even care about her. It was like my mind wasn't even a part of it."

"Your mind wasn't even a part of it?" I nearly choked on the words, heart throbbing, cheeks streaked with tears. But a part of me always wants to be understanding. I always try to look at things through other people's eyes.

"Yeah, it was like I was just observing the whole thing. I was just doing what my body wanted to do and it was like it wasn't even me doing it. It was passionless!" He pleaded, "I mean, I know it happened, physically, but other than that, it might as well have not happened at all. And it doesn't change the way that I feel about you. I promise!"

I had never thought of it like that before. I had never thought that an act so intrinsically meaningful could be viewed in such a detached way. It was kind of a new idea for me -that emotions don't have to be tied to even the most life altering actions. Suddenly I wasn't trembling anymore. I felt calm.

I think he knew by the look on my face that I was internalizing what he had said, and that I was trying to understand. He looked relieved and he let out a sigh. Then he opened his mouth, probably to tell me that he loved me, or to promise me it would never happen again.

That's when I did it. That's when I picked up the kitchen knife and drove it right between the ribs on the left side of his chest. And that's when I understood him. Because what I did was so simple. So emotionless. Like my mind wasn’t even a part of it. I just picked up the knife, pointed it at his chest, and leaned into it. I think I understand what he was explaining. Because it was hard for me to believe that the shocked look on his face, and the way the life went out of his eyes, could have been connected to an action that was so mechanically simple and meaningless for me.

I thought about trying to reassure him, as he started to slip away, speechless and confused. I thought about telling him that I wasn't angry and that it wasn't emotional. I thought about telling him that I understood him, because I felt like I was just observing and like it wasn't even me that did it. But I didn't say anything, because I didn't think he would believe my sincerity. I couldn't think of a way to make him understand that things really were okay between us. Everything I could have said would have sounded so cruel and vindictive.

And when he was gone, it felt so strange… because it didn't feel strange. I know you might think that killing him was an act of revenge. You might think it was a 'crime of passion'. But I was calm when I did it. I didn't feel like I had to do it. I just did it. So I really don't feel like his cheating and my stabbing were connected at all, other than through him showing me a new way of thinking.

Did I really murder him? I'm not sure. The immediate cause of death would be loss of circulation and therefore loss of oxygen to the brain. But that was a result of the knife in his heart. I put the knife there, but he gave me the knife. My part in the murder is just one link in a chain of causes and effects. It seems kind of arbitrary to point at just one of the links in the chain and put all the blame on that link. And you have to admit there was a lot of irony and stupidity in my husband's decision making today. Who cheats on his wife, buys her a set of kitchen knives for their anniversary, and waits for her to open the gift before deciding that now is the best time to tear down her world with the news of his infidelity? Can you really say that he played no part in his own demise?

I realize now that no one needs to be blamed. And I don't need forgiveness. And it's not because we're 'even' now. It's because it wasn't really murder. It was a meaningless action. It was passionless. I mean, I know it happened, physically, but other than that, it might as well have not happened at all. Our actions don't matter. It's how we feel inside that really matters.

That's what he wanted me to understand. Right?

Fire Breather (writing sample)

"Jake. Jake. Jake. Jake. Jake." Jake wasn't responding even though Odi was increasing in volume at a constant rate. Maybe Jake was just pretending to still be asleep because he already knew it wasn't important. Odi could never tell what Jake would think was important, and he couldn't remember if dragons were a good thing or a bad thing. This dragon seemed to be playing with him though, so maybe it wasn't important.

Odi kept his eyes locked on the dragon. It was part of the game they were playing. The morning sun was shining on the dark red scales on it's back, which were visible over the top of the grass that it was hiding in. Odi turned away for just a second before whipping back to see that the dragon had moved considerably closer and was now holding still partially behind a tree. It made Odi laugh and smile every time. He had first spotted the dragon when it was very far away, and it took a little while before he realized that it was playing a game with him. He was amazed that the dragon could hold so perfectly still as long as he was watching, and then move so far in the brief moments that he looked away. Odi was slightly troubled though. He had seen a painting of a dragon before, so he knew what it was when he saw it. He always remembered things that he saw, but he had a hard time remembering all of the other stuff. And now he was having trouble imagining how this game would end.

"Jake. Jake. Jake. Jake…"

"What!?" Jake groaned, now half awake and grumpy.

Maybe it was a mistake, Odi thought. Maybe he shouldn't bring it up directly. Jake was usually only annoyed by questions, but when Odi made wrong assumptions Jake would make him feel like an idiot, and Odi didn't like feeling embarrassed and stupid. Questions were safer.

"Jake, are dragons important?" Odi tested.

Jake, eyes still shut, wrinkled his forehead, "Is this question important?" Jake already seemed irritated.

"It might be. I don't know." Odi was already regretting bringing it up.

"Well, if you figure it out, let me know." Jake rolled onto his side to fall back asleep, then added, "Unless you figure out that it isn't important. Then let me keep sleeping."

Odi had been looking at Jake while they talked, but then he remembered the game. The surprise of seeing the dragon so close almost made him fall backward. It was crouched low to the ground only twenty feet away and it's wings were half spread as if it had been preparing to pounce when it had frozen still again under Odi's gaze. Odi laughed again, delighted at the creature's skill, and marveled at it's beauty and elegance. Now that it was closer, though, he noticed that the dragon's expression didn't appear playful. It stared straight into Odi's eyes with a perfect stillness that seemed to require too much focus for a game. Of course, how would he know if a dragon's facial expression looked playful or not? Still, it made him uneasy.

He thought of asking Jake again. Odi really didn't want to feel like an idiot again, but ignoring the dragon didn't seem like something normal people would do. On second thought, maybe it was normal. Odi could imagine people ignoring a dragon just as easily as he could imagine them reacting any other way to a dragon. How was he supposed to predict whether or not Jake would think it was important? Odi really needed to ask one last question, just to be sure.

He decided to risk it, "Jake. Would you want to know if a dragon was nearby?"

Jake's eyes popped wide open.