Ghost Writers. David Shaw
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look for trouble and I tend to avoid any situations where confrontation is likely to occur. On the other hand, if one of my family members should ever be attacked or abused by any individual then a part of me is likely to surface that I cannot control. That part of me is a combination of all my collective fears, all rolled up into a monstrous ball of revulsion that would even petrify battle-hardened mercenaries. Now imagine tying me to a bed and throwing holy water over me, whilst bellowing out the Lord’s Prayer. I think you would find that my reaction would make Linda Blair look like Mother Teresa!
I’ve only ever experienced this malevolent side of myself once before. I was sixteen years of age and I went searching for a gang of girls who had attacked my sister for no reason other than they were bored. Thankfully, I didn’t find them. They will never know how lucky they were.
We all have something in our past that we need to keep shackled –children are no different. There have been many reports of children having to suffer so-called exorcisms at the hands of religious fanatics, where it is often claimed that the children scream profanities and blasphemous verses that they would otherwise not have in their embryonic vocabulary. But the subconscious mind of a child will still harbour memories of past lives where barbarism would almost certainly have prevailed, with the resultant behavioural characteristics appearing totally unchildlike should they ever resurface.
The only demons you are ever likely to find are the ones that you have self-created through your own thoughts or actions. But they are your demons. They haven’t manifested through some anti-biblical sphere to take over your soul and drag you back to the shores of hell. That’s only in the movies. Life is not always that simple. We must learn from our many mistakes before we can truly enjoy an existence bereft of fear. Fear makes us human. It is only our lack of understanding why fear exists that prevents us from living a more fruitful life.
Man’s greatest fear is of the unknown, and the biggest unknown is what happens to us when we die. But surely if we truly believe that life is indeed eternal, then the fear of death could be construed as nothing more than an exorcised demon awaiting a call from another Hollywood scriptwriter.
‘No one knows whether death, which people fear to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good.’ PLATO
Don’t fear the reaper
A trickle of ice-cold tap water slowly removes the soft lather of soap wedged between the fingers of the most perfect hands you could ever imagine. As both palms meet in perfect synchronicity, a symphonic resonance welcomes a single droplet of water as it gracefully cascades sideways to reunite with the continuous flow. Each alternate finger carefully intertwines in perfect unity as the last remnants of the lightly scented lather follows suit along the contours of the gleaming ceramic hand basin.
The impeccably clean hands are gently dried using a plain white hand towel, freshly laundered and folded seamlessly in preparation for this most delicate of procedures. A creamy, smooth moisturiser is hastily applied to ensure that these immaculate hands would even be admired by visiting royalty. Finally, a sterling silver nail file finely sculpts each fingernail with a precision that would even leave a master craftsman impressed.
It is difficult to imagine such fine-looking hands engaging in anything other than pastimes suited to celestial activities. However, these unblemished hands belong to a child killer. On five separate occasions, these hands were responsible for murdering young children and consequently destroying the lives of their respective families, and no amount of self-cleansing would ever remove the stain of death from these well-groomed weapons of hate.
The dimly lit sky hides behind a small round window that dominates this featureless room. There is clearly a subtlety about this domain that highlights a need for security, yet at the detriment of extravagance. The sparseness of the room lays bare the notion that the idiosyncrasies of killers are often reflected in their habitat. The walls and floor are both immaculately clean, yet they lack any real affluence. This is clearly a dwelling place that was created for purpose rather than comfort.
The child-killer opens the window slightly, allowing the cold night air to filter through, refreshing his naked torso as it eagerly searches for an escape route. He closes his eyes before drawing a deep breath. Quickly reopening them, he sluggishly turns around to peruse the remaining contents of his life. His neatly folded clothes lie at the foot of an impeccably made-up bed. A black leather belt sits uncompromisingly on top of a small circular table, with the large metal buckle overlapping a handwritten note.
Impetuously, he picks up the belt from the table and loops it around the catch at the top of the window. Then, he thrusts his head out of the window for one final gasp of air, his whole body shuddering with the violent force of his actions. The cold air continues to filter through the window until the night suddenly turns to day.
As the early morning mist clears from the window the welcoming rays of the sun announce the arrival of a beautiful summer’s day, just as a distant blackbird serenades the early risers. A familiar noise then breaks the peace and calm of the moment as the sound of a key turning in a lock heralds the beginning of another day in the life of a prisoner.
The cell door opens and two prison officers find our child-killer’s lifeless body hanging from the window frame. The consequent sound of the alarm acts as a devastating reminder to every other prisoner that another soul has ended his pain, only to recommence his torture.
Afterwards, the parents of the murdered children are offered the opportunity to read the suicide note left by the killer. Naturally, they find this suggestion repulsive, yet they all reluctantly agree to hear his words – hoping for an explanation as to why he chose to commit these appalling crimes against their children. As far as they’re concerned, the fact that he had chosen to commit suicide didn’t justify an apology in any context whatsoever.
‘To whoever may read this note, I solemnly promise that these words are sincere and honest. That is the very least that I can offer under the present circumstances. By the time you read this letter the world will be a better place. Of that I have no doubt. This will be the last life that I take and the only one that is morally just.
Sometimes, when you try to make sense of an act of cruelty, there are no words to convey the nature of such an atrocity without appearing sanctimonious. This is not my intention here. My words offer no explanation as to my actions for that would be as barbaric as the crime itself. I only offer my sincere apology for the grievous acts of depravity that were committed against the innocent children and their respective families.
It has been widely reported that my crimes were committed as a result of hearing immoral voices in my head from the Devil. I do not believe in any devil. If I did then I would also have to believe in God, but what kind of god would allow a monster such as me to join his flock?
The crimes were committed by me and me alone. I am totally responsible for the deaths of five children and it is only me who should be judged in this instance. My own death will not compensate for what has already transpired but it may highlight that I am aware of the grief that my actions have caused and the torment that shall last indefinitely for those affected. My own mental torture shall remain private as I do not deserve nor look for any sympathy whatsoever.
To that end, I wish to publicly apologise. I can only hope that if there is any justice in the place that I now go to, I will finally find a reason as to why I have acted so abominably and brought eternal shame upon my own family.
As I now contemplate the end of my wretched existence, I fear not death; it is only life that I truly fear. The inferno that still burns deep within my soul shall surely diminish with my imminent passing. I can only hope that the love I desecrated during my time here can return to save me from myself.’
There are very few souls in this world who can honestly say that they have total belief in all that they do. Occasionally, you will come across exceptional people who, for some reason, have found a worthwhile cause that they are conscientiously dedicated to and