Murder in the Meadow

Warning: the following content contains mention of murder and death

By Annabelle Kng

Something very peculiar is happening today. “Kill me, and fulfill the prophecy.” I’m engrossed with these thoughts. What’s going on, for heaven’s sake?

The young boy, no older than eight, runs around a meadow filled with hundreds of yellow daisies; an image of innocence and purity. Out he flutters, like a thrush. Enchanted by dainty daisies, the innocent boy looks me in the eye. His face fills with happiness, not one worry at all, unlike me. I surreptitiously check the serrated knife in my calloused hand, glistening in the crimson red. How can I do it while I’m surrounded by God’s way of cheering grieving parents when their baby dies. I can make these flowers represent the wicked.

A cool summer’s breeze brushes against my face, calming me down. I used to be just like the little boy -- no stress, just joy. If someone entered his brain, they would see paradise: candy, sunshine, chocolate, every kid’s dream.

A smile creeps onto my face pondering this paradise just as another voice fills my head, but this time a woman, “Don’t think, just kill,” my mother mutters, “Just kill…”

Her voice replays over and over again. My head starts throbbing abruptly and my legs shake, I stumble and cry as a piercing noise stabs me in the ear. The boy glances my way, his head leaning to the left, trying to get a better look at me with his wide eyes, like those of curious puppies. I stop quivering, look right into those puppy eyes and hold my breath hoping I didn’t do anything wrong. Then, like he could read my mind, he gives me a reassuring smile; it’s as if he is telling me, “everything will be okay”. Except it isn’t going to be okay! I have to make a life or death choice for another human!

The young boy vanishes into the rows and rows of bright, lively daisies. Another thought rushes into my mind -- I could let the boy go. I would be a shame to my family and that’s not something I want to be. My family always insists “evil will take over the world”.

Out of the blue, I see a bunch of the yellow daisies, held by little youthful fingers, up at my face. I peer down to find the young boy in front of me. My fingers grip the knife harder until my veins are protruding out of my skin, my muscles tensed, and my teeth grinding into each other. “Perfect position,” I can feel my father grinning, “Kill him right there.”

My breathing accelerates, if I move one muscle, I will kill the boy. “Don’t be a disgrace to this family,” my mother taunts in my ear.

I hear my teeth slowly turning into powder; I have to make a quick decision. “Kill him. Kill him!” My parents chant.

“Are you okay?” the sweet young voice asks.

My lips are eaten from the inside, my heart hammering. “Kill the boy, Ezra,” the deep crusty voices hiss in my head, “Kill him and make us proud.”

I scream in my head. My fingernails create moon crescent marks in my palm. “Murder the young, MURDER HIM!”

The death weapon in hand, I make a choice.

It happens hastily.

One smooth stab to the neck and the small body falls to the ground.

Stagnant eyes. Pale skin. Innocence and purity slump out of his hands. I feel his soul dissipating.

The ice-cold blood covers me like a glove. My hands tremble. Chills go down my spine. I drop the bloodied knife onto the dull grass. The flowers are wilting and broken. An ocean surfaces in my eyes, but it instantly drains back, and a blanket of black tucks into the summer light.

I stagger a few steps back and my head bangs down on to the earth.

Everything turns black.