The Serial Killer?

Jonas Zaithwa Chisi

She still looked longingly in my large eyes but I had already lost my conscience self

She stood there looking into my stubborn face with a faint and yielding resolution in her weak eyes.

I had not lived to her expectation, as always.

I was simply another jack in the street who manipulated her innocence into insurmountable misery.

Her eyes grew narrower shedding little drops of regret, pain, misery and…and love of course. Her lean shadow pleaded with my stubborn face which by then was focused on another figure formed so fast in my mind. A figure of another…another victim for my ruthless heart.

She still looked longingly in my large eyes but I had already lost my conscience self. I was simply a lifeless statue sitting on a rock next to an admirer who was lost in emotions wishing I could speak. Well, not to speak as such but just to say a word, “a single word” she said.

“Z..a..i…” she stammered.

I responded in a most awkward way that she nearly spit into my face. I shook my face jerkily as if waking up from a day long oblivion on the shores of Lake Malawi. She realised that all she had been saying were but a candle in the wind. But she was modest and valiant of all girls I had met so far yet my steel heart would not yield to her love. It would not melt to her warmth or shake to her disastrous reaction. She had to be the next victim. There was a trail of victims before her. She was no exception.

Soon she realised that she could not shake any hair on my lean body, that she should not open up the heart I pretended to hold so closely to myself because there wasn’t one. I was simply a fresh covering my bones. Nothing else.

I watched her walk into the glimmer of the evening light like a languid shadow trying to force away from a drowsy owner. I heard echoes of her steps as she negotiated her way through the stony path down the molehill we sat on. At the foot of the molehill she stopped and looked up to me for a single word that would save her from the agony she was going through. Unfortunately, that was never going to be me.

My mouth was plastered with aloofness, pride, self-importance, coldness…

I looked at her with no remorse and I was never going to say a word to her. I had done this to a lot of girls before. She was no special. I had sucked the nectar in her, she was falling like dry colourless petals into a welcoming hell of consuming flame, a fire so purging and purifying, a fire so…

The darkness engulfed her well curved thighs for her upper torso was still visible in her glittering jersey. The far she went the freer I became. Now I could talk to myself. Now I could spit a word, words. I picked up my phone and called…

“Hello babe”

“Hie gorgeous”

“We still going out?”

The answer was pretty obvious. She was gorgeous, marvellous, nasty, dirty…

I liked dirty. I descended smiling to meet my next victim as if I was a serial killer.

Wasn’t I?


I felt something so strong recoiling in my stomach. I wanted to get up but I couldn’t.

“You need to rest a bit more” she said and slowly vanished like a morning dew, like nightmare so…