The Perfect Devil
It wasn?t expected to find Malcolm ? science whizz and DnD player dead, at his dorm of all places. People gave him a lot of flack, but from his aptitude tests in the University it was obvious he was heading places.
There he was though, body burnt to a cinder outside the doused remains of his dorm.
It hadn?t even seemed possible; the fire was only in his room. It hadn?t spread any further, but there were chemicals on the ground.
So the explanation was accidental death, due to chemical explosion.
And we all thought that it was the end of it, we moved on, and forget the nerds death. We?re not cruel, we just saw it as tragic, but honestly who would miss him? He hadn?t socialized with any of us, he?d been to be honest a little creepy. To say the University did anything except hold a funeral at the chapel is true.
The famous tune played, and we listened to the Mother and Father, tearfully exclaiming how much they would miss Malcolm.
Some of the girls cried, but it was only a facade, we all lied.
And then that was end of it.
My name is Graham, I?m what you would call cynical, I prefer realistic. A funeral is just a big display for us, not for them. Malcolm, didn?t get two damns what we did, the boy was charcoal in a coffin. Yet we were meant to act like we had even known the kids name.
I?m a Wrestler and ironically enough my favourite movie is Fightclub, I hate lies or displays of false emotions/actions. I take wrestling seriously, not like WWF.
So perhaps I?m cynical, it?s perhaps this that made the truth escape me for so long.
Or perhaps we knew this wasn?t the end, but all pretended it was.
Waking up, it had been a week since the squirt?s death, and strangely enough I?d thought of him, tossing and turning one thing kept burling through my mind at an indefinite pace, like the kid was smart, he knew how to work chemicals, so his death didn?t add up, and why didn?t the fire escape out his room? Movie logic showed that chemical explosions are huge and often dangerous.
Grumbling he stood up just as his mobile rang, ?...Hello...?
?Graham, you sound awful.?
?I feel it Mark, so what?s up??
Sitting back on the bed, I slowly lay down, beginning to stare boredly at the ceiling.
?To be honest, I don?t know, but Malcolm said something to me, before his death, it?s nothing I?m sure, but it was like he knew he was going to die. Premeditation perhaps??
My heart stopped for a second, but just as it stopped common sense kicked back in, so I resumed my ceiling watching half listening.
?Mark, I think you?re right, suicide it has to be, the kid wasn?t dim.?
Of course it was suicide it made sense, complete sense. Then why was I still doubting that.
?So... you seen the new twins, Almo and her brother Oscar??
Yep seen her, fantasized about her, and many a Kleenex could tell you what I thought of her. Sitting up on the pillow I laughed a little and thought of that beauty, she was stunning, ?That?s between me and my bed Mark.?
?Graham, I know you been thinking of Malcolm, don?t lie to me you liked him.?
That totally came out of nowhere, sitting up, I figured maybe just coincidence.
?Don?t deny it Graham.? He continued.
I blushed, it was true, I found the attraction of both girls and guys indescribable and knowledge was a turn on for me, ?I say at best a crush Mark, but honestly, kid?s dead, lets move on, I?m not ?that? into him.?
Mark laughed over the phone and I just groaned, ?Anyway, don?t avoid the point idiot. You want Almo, don?t you??
?A little less than you wanted Malcolm.?
Sighing I replied, ?Okay drop it. Do you plan on bringing up anything else or just plan to remind me of my inability to talk to the same sex a certain way??
?Calm down dude, I was only messing... This murd--- I mean death has you really wound up.?
?I know... but so many things don?t add up.?
?Maybe, just forget it mate, you wanna know--- oh shit my parents are up, have to talk later!?
Hearing the dial tone, I fell on bed.
Great. My bestfriend had seen my attraction to Malcolm, perhaps it been a mistake going to his funeral, not like I?d really wanted to. Instead, I?d cried at home and was sure that be the end of it. Move on, forget it, but I couldn?t forget seeing him the day before, the face untarnished as of yet but his eyes so very tired.
Growling in frustration I put my mind to Almo, slipping back into bed and letting my imagination be my partner for tonight: wonderful brown haired goddess, with a smile that could excite and dark green eyes that grabbed the heart.
I then remember only fire, and a shape, a shape I?d come to know in due course. I knew at this point this wasn?t a fire of chemicals; it was malevolent dark and twisted. It spoke with guttural shiek, in melodies that hurt the ears. I remember the eyes. I remember the eyes.