The lights flickered blur as we entered the complex. The silhouette of the ancient tower looked eerie in the moonlight. Time, like a deceitful chauffeur drove me with its foot more off the gas than on & everything appeared to move in slow motion. The liver's got a unique modus operandi to quench its insatiable appetite for the ecstatic brown spirit brewed in the Scottish highlands, it does so by creating a simmering crave in its keeper's brain while disgorging other things down the drain in its desperate pursuit. And so it was for me, as the music sent shock waves one after the other through my bones piling on the euphoria & reckless energy I needed for the trip. I was at the best party I'd seen so far as the lights flickered and the hips swayed... the hips swayed on
A passing red ant commands as much respect as the wailing red siren. As it walks twig over twig, leaf over leaf. It's given a priority by other inferior black ants of the same species as it single handedly claims their quarry .. a dead insect. I always arrived late to school, and the class was postponed for me. Every student I had an altercation with was rusticated & every professor that opposed me was transferred. I always wondered what was that anonymous bizarre hegemony behind me, that justified all my actions. And with that my obsession for power burgeoned exponentially. And tonight this obsession was further aggravated by the colourful lights, trippy music and the crave for the euphoria liquid. The lights flickered on going in circles & the hips swayed in unison to the thumping of thunder ... the hips swayed on
The intensity of delirium that comes out the brain at the cracking sound of the rifle, the perfect projectile of the lead coming out of it and the fresh aroma of gunpowder is gargantuan. Blame the yanks or blame blightey, my fascination for firearms started off by those American movies as Arnold pumps lead & the marauders get disintegrated & disembowelled into bits. I was even surrounded by people with heavy carbines wearing dark shades & grey suits looking like agents of the CIA & all of that for my protection...
Time is so fast paced & you're sprinting closer to death with your birthdays as milestones, but with the firearm in my hand and the glint of fear in my opponent's eyes slowed time & when I fired it just stopped still, it was Nirvana for me.Their despair was my euphoria .. That is when I decided to buy me a firearm & got a Beretta 92F licensed in my name. It was a beautiful semi automatic, issued only to those privileged to have dangerous terrorists threatening their life, well I had my own terrorists skulking in my skull between my ears. The predicament with this kind of firearm was it was a 9mm & it's ammunition a.k.a. ''prohibited bore'' was restricted to the privileged & every bullet had to be officially accounted for & besides it was exorbitant.. I therefore got the cheap & effective .22 calibre rounds & got myself a conversion kit shipped from Houston which in effect gave me a greater deal of flexibility & a longer range & the smaller ammo meant more in number. I was ecstatic even more so by the thumping music of the crowded dance floor while the hips swayed like crazy ... yeah the hips swayed on
He who cannot think is a fool, he who will not, a bigot & he who dare not, a slave. There was no dearth of slaves in the sugar mill I owned, all too gratified to my tyranny to sustain their fleeting existence. Their fear wasn't too obvious but wasn't too secret either. But a majority of them acted as if they were oblivious to my whimsical fantasies & those who didn't, well the Beretta needs some work doesn't she, say to decorate a few foreheads with blood and brains hahaha. The beretta, the bottle & the swagger in the tongue meant trouble for them, this was urchin country & I was the law. A place where adrenaline turned to blood & gore, where failed cupidity turned to diabolic lust only satiated against the will of the victim. It was all too common & I wondered what the big mighty capital city had in store for me & therefore I ventured out with my inebriated counterparts from the profoundness of the calm night to the glitz & glimmer of the hallucinating flickering lights of the capital. The cold metal of the beretta in the bowels of my trousers virtually gave me a hard on. The phantasmagoria of the music & the colourful lights pumped adrenaline like that into a fired up athlete while the hips swayed on violently ... the hips swayed on
Of all tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victim may be the most oppressive, it may be better to survive under the authority of marauder barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The marauder's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at sometime be satiated. However those who torment us for our own good will torment us endlessly, for they do so without the approval of their conscience. My craving for the paradise liquid burgeoned to a point that I started demanding drinks from other revellers like I owned the country and they held on to it as if their lives depended on them, I tried many a tactic upto the point of moral misbehaviour but their determination was relentless. In a state of forlorn despair I headed to the bar counter, flicked a fresh wad of notes & flashed it to the waitress at the bar. She refused. I dont take no for an answer but I was a little timid tonight, however she began ranting about my inebriated state & started ranting moral sermons about how I must behave myself. My trip was getting blown to smithereens & the hallucination began fading, the diabolic monsters screaming in me to red me off the bitch. In a sudden rush of adrenaline like the inferno out an exploding grenade I pulled out my beretta, fired a shot the air & pointed the barrel at her & fired another shot in quick succession straight into her temple, she whimpered choking on her own blood & collapsed on the floor as I walked out the bar.
My name is Siddharth Vashisht a.k.a. Manu Sharma & this is why I murdered Jessica Lal.
29/04/1999
