Red was his Muse
*This is an entry for March Blog of the Month Competition*
On 15/10/1956, Ether Delmar, a teacher at Vikea High School was found to be the killer of over fifty innocent citizens. Apparently, Ether had an obsession with the colour red and could not hold back his desire to colour the world with his favourite tint. His last words were recorded and assessed by psychiatrists of Huyul Research Organization. His statement was made public on 22/5/1958.
Ether Delmar
Age, 36
Time 8:20 PM
I see my little adventures end in this horrendous cell where I see nothing but walls of grey, coated with dullness. What the world thinks of me now and years from now does not affect me. I'm simply a man with a great obsession, a man who found his muse in the form of a visual phenomenon. The colour red, I've loved it since I can remember. New shades of this specific wavelength, when they strike my eyes, I feel rejuvenated. My mother loved this colour on me too. Maybe it's a family thing. But you see, I'm a man just like you. I'm a teacher. I love my profession. I love teaching. While improving the children's' English, I would teach them philosophy side by side.
They loved the idea of wandering deep in their minds and finding what they loved. As did I. As I ventured down my mind, I found a strange obsession with the liquid that flows in my vessels. I sensed euphoria when I saw myself bleed. But alas, I was a weak person and I had been declared anaemic three times in my life. Every time my blood got low, I would be frantic. My inner voice whispered about how this fluid ran in every person that passed me on the streets, every child I taught, even my own family. So I obliged. I simply gave in.
The first time scared me. I thought about what I did and tried to turn myself in. But that voice, it surfaced every time I tried to do it. So eventually, the voice became my own and the euphoria overcame the guilt. My life was complete yet it lacked something at the same time. I tried to find the missing piece and while doing so, more blood was shed. It didn't matter whose blood it was. I just wanted salvation. But I didn't realize I was on the brink of being caught. So, here I am after shedding the blood of my wife. I know she's the one that called the police because she started to suspect me. She was too late though. That night, I took her life because no matter how much I loved her, I loved the colour of her blood. This was the only time I cried after doing the deed. Because even after watching her blood, my eyes couldn't leave her face. Euphoria turned into misery, and even after hearing the steps of the police on my door, I didn't run. It didn't matter anymore.
Zoya Imran (Batch of 2021)
On 15/10/1956, Ether Delmar, a teacher at Vikea High School was found to be the killer of over fifty innocent citizens. Apparently, Ether had an obsession with the colour red and could not hold back his desire to colour the world with his favourite tint. His last words were recorded and assessed by psychiatrists of Huyul Research Organization. His statement was made public on 22/5/1958.
Ether Delmar
Age, 36
Time 8:20 PM
I see my little adventures end in this horrendous cell where I see nothing but walls of grey, coated with dullness. What the world thinks of me now and years from now does not affect me. I'm simply a man with a great obsession, a man who found his muse in the form of a visual phenomenon. The colour red, I've loved it since I can remember. New shades of this specific wavelength, when they strike my eyes, I feel rejuvenated. My mother loved this colour on me too. Maybe it's a family thing. But you see, I'm a man just like you. I'm a teacher. I love my profession. I love teaching. While improving the children's' English, I would teach them philosophy side by side.
They loved the idea of wandering deep in their minds and finding what they loved. As did I. As I ventured down my mind, I found a strange obsession with the liquid that flows in my vessels. I sensed euphoria when I saw myself bleed. But alas, I was a weak person and I had been declared anaemic three times in my life. Every time my blood got low, I would be frantic. My inner voice whispered about how this fluid ran in every person that passed me on the streets, every child I taught, even my own family. So I obliged. I simply gave in.
The first time scared me. I thought about what I did and tried to turn myself in. But that voice, it surfaced every time I tried to do it. So eventually, the voice became my own and the euphoria overcame the guilt. My life was complete yet it lacked something at the same time. I tried to find the missing piece and while doing so, more blood was shed. It didn't matter whose blood it was. I just wanted salvation. But I didn't realize I was on the brink of being caught. So, here I am after shedding the blood of my wife. I know she's the one that called the police because she started to suspect me. She was too late though. That night, I took her life because no matter how much I loved her, I loved the colour of her blood. This was the only time I cried after doing the deed. Because even after watching her blood, my eyes couldn't leave her face. Euphoria turned into misery, and even after hearing the steps of the police on my door, I didn't run. It didn't matter anymore.
Zoya Imran (Batch of 2021)
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