Vokk, Confessions of an Assassin
Do you awake every night soaked in cold sweat screaming of fear and overwhelmed by guilt? I hope not. It is a terrible way to start the day. Believe me. I know.
My name is Vokk and I am murderer.
Somebody said once that when you kill a man you take from him everything he will ever get. His life. His dreams. His hopes and expectations. That is why always empty my victim’s pockets and they always fail to notice it or care, they are in enough trouble being dead.
Taking al life is an act that shatters the metaphysical fabric of the Universe and it is not easy task for any man, specially if your victim runs faster than you. The first killing is always the hardest. The first human life you take. I remember my first as if happened yesterday but then, alas I did kill somebody yesterday too.
Since a child I always was fascinated and attracted by Death until I found out what it was and I realized that it was better to keep myself a safe distance from it. I started playing with dead bugs and dead flies when I was three. Then I started again when I was five. As I grew up I began playing with bigger dead things, like rats and lobsters. I was lucky one day a beaver I though dead resuscitated when I introduced a knitting needle in its hear and bit my tongue off. If I had continued by that path today I would be playing with dead hippopotamus.
I realized that the best way to procure oneself with harmless dead bodies was to make them out of living people by the process of killing them. But for some reason neither my father nor my mother wanted to help me on my experiments in that direction. I guess they were too busy. My father smashing his fist in my mother’s face and my mother trying to peel off the cat in the sincere belief that it was turkey.
But I found the perfect candidate in a retarded child that attended my school and all other kids at the School for the Retarded made fun of for being the smartest of us. I devised a masterful plan to lure him with candy to a secluded place and crack his head open with a rock. But it was so nervous that I used the rock as a bait and tried killing him with a handful of strawberry candy. This anecdote gives you and idea of both how difficult is killing somebody and what a dimwit I was.
Because that episode my parents sent me to live away in a farm in the absurd belief that I could continue my education in a school for chickens. I was sorely disappointed when I arrived there and was told there is not such a thing. The owner of the vast farm put me to work on the fields with some scruffy silent men that turned out to be scarecrows. I killed him that same night by throwing his bed with him sleeping on it in the harvester machine at full power.
I never felt better in my live. I took off my clothes and howled to the moon like a madman, madmen do those things. Naked under the moonlight I extended my arms to touch the gracile flakes of skin and bone floating in the chilly the night. The air was clouded by a mist of blood and sawdust. Then and there I took an oath to make the goal of my life to kill as many people I could, and try to get paid for it with some money. Then I picked up my clothes because it truly was a chilly night and I didn’t want to catch a cold. There is nothing more ridiculous that trying to stab somebody in the face with a running nose.
The beginnings are hard at the beginning, later it gets easier and it is not a beginning any more, of course. First thing you want to do before killing somebody is to decide what kind of killing is going to be. That is not so easy as it may sound. Do you want the fellow murdered? Or would you rather slain him? May be too gory. Assassination could work but then you have to find for a bidder first and it is an hassle. Would slaughter do the trick? Too much blood. Massacre is good for groups, as it is extermination but if you prefer quality over quantity nothing tops good old homicide. This classification is very useful when you have a lot of killing on your curriculum and want to organize the receipts, but when you are a beginner it is headache.
My own method to decide who and how to kill is from a salesman techniques book titled How To Make Friends And Boost Your Sales.
Always dress well for a killing, you want too look good for the victim but never in black to spare him foreboding thoughts. Before leaving home you face the mirror and stare intensely in your eyes for fifteen minutes or until you start wondering what you are doing contemplating your reflection. Then you ask in a loud voice:
– What kind of killing do you feel like today?
If you don’t get an answer you leave and improvise something on the way. If you get an answer then you are probably insane and shouldn’t be reading this.