Confessions. Short Story.

So we’re on day four of a five day event! Tomorrow the usual series will go up, but so will a short story. The short story will go up a little later than the next installment of Deadly Secrets. Probably only an hour or two after though.

My throat might be doing a little better too! Both sides are evenly swollen now, but they only feel as sore as they did yesterday and the day before, so that is an improvement. Every other time they’ve gotten so much worse each day. I’m taking this as a good sign.

Lots of college work to be done now though, particularly as the semester ends, which is a little saddening, it does not feel like a (college) year has gone by. It’s kinda crazy. Still, work to be done and the like!

On with the show!



This is the end now and it is what’s best for everyone. I know many people will wonder why I’ve done this, but some will not. Don’t worry though, you won’t be burdened with my secrets. I intend to let everyone know, after all it isn’t as if I will be around to see the aftermath. It began a few years ago, it seems even longer. I don’t know if it was always there, if I could control it then, or if it just manifested. I know I tried to convince myself it was the influence of something, some outside agent, it had to be. But I know that wasn’t the case. I suppose I can admit that to myself now. What is there left to hide? I will step from this life and into the next, where I will face my punishment. I never really believed in an afterlife until last night, but I know that there is and I welcome it. I do not deserve to be here any longer. I cannot stand the thought of it taking me again. I had worried at first that I would change before it happened, stop myself from shooting, vomit up the pills. I have ensured I cannot stop it. One way or another, I will not leave this room alive. It sealed behind me. The door will not open for at least a week. There is no food or water in here, it is air tight and there are plenty of methods for me to choose from. I don’t know what I’ll do yet, though it won’t matter to you, will it? You’ll know soon enough.

I killed Jane. It was not an accident, it was premeditated. I had dreamed of it for months, her death haunted my dreams. Each night she was killed by new and fantastic ways until I could bare it no longer. That is when I set to planning it. It had to look like an accident, that was the most important thing. We all knew she was getting a little off in her advanced years, so no one would question that she had taken her pills twice. That was my doing. I reminded her twice and I assured her that she hadn’t taken any. I guided her to the stairs, she was feeling faint by then and was walking with obvious difficulty. I told her I would be there every step and held out my hand. When she reached for it, I stepped back. She couldn’t grab the bannister in time. I watched her fall, listened to the crack of her bones. I knew she couldn’t survive it. Yet she did. She lay at the bottom of the stairs, breath gurgling from her throat, I watched you know. It took her hours to finally give up. Of course, I denied being at the house that day. Amy was the one who found her, as you all know, and for that I am sorry. I planned to be there first, but you see I couldn’t. It was the first good night’s sleep I had had. Devoid of any dreams, I slept right through until it was too late.

I didn’t fear getting caught, not then. I knew I was safe.

The next was Uncle Jeff. That was considerably trickier. Derrick, you know some of my involvement, but not much. You knew that I spent the day with him. He spent most of the day drinking and you all know how horrible he could get then. I refilled his glass periodically, but never bothered to drink more than a few sips of my own drink. When he passed out I set fire to the house, leaving one of his cigars on a piece of paper near his head. I don’t know if he woke up before he burned to death. I hope he did, he deserved to feel the pain. Luckily not too much of the house was destroyed.

There were others too, I became more hands on. Father wasn’t killed during a burglary gone wrong, no. That was me who shot him. Mother didn’t intentionally over dose. Though really, even if you didn’t know I was behind it, would it have surprised anyone if it had been an accident? The amount of pills she was taking it was a wonder she hadn’t gone years ago. One by one I killed off everyone. Most were old so no one looked into it too much. I did it slowly of course, no more than one or two a year. Still seven years to get them all. Believe me when I say they deserved it. I was a harbinger of justice, but I will not lie, not now. I enjoyed it. I really did.

I left all of you alone because you were better than that. I pruned the family tree so you would all have a chance to grow and flourish. This is just a precaution on my part, I don’t think I can control it much longer and if that happens I don’t know who I’ll go after next. Their crimes were great, so I think that will go towards mitigating some of my own punishment, but not by much.

They visited me you see. All of them. They came to me in my dreams. They confessed what they had done, one by one. All of the old wounds were drained of their pus. They revealed their plotting against one another, there were no secrets. I learned so much, things I didn’t want to hear, but they made me listen too. They wanted me to know why I had done it. They told me something else It wasn’t the first time this has happened. They didn’t know, not until it was too late. Our family is rotten at the core. Every few generations someone is born, someone whose job it is to mitigate the evil we cast on the world. Judgements are passed to them and they have a choice. They can act on the desires or they can deny themselves. I was helping the world, but I committed crimes too. I know that and I accept it.

I tell you this, not as a warning, but as advice. Do not let the darkness consume you. One day one of your own children could be in my place, but if you do no wrongs then there will be no need.

I am sorry for the pain I caused. I am sorry that it had to be done, but I am not sorry for doing it.

Take care of yourselves. I will see you again one day. Hopefully by then I’ll have atoned for my wrong doings.

Yours sincerely,

John T. Hatton.


About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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