I once met a man. I barely remember what he looked like, but I do remember his eyes. They were as green as the leaves of a tree in July. They were beautiful eyes. Eyes in which wisdom were rooted so deeply that it was apparent to everyone who glanced into them for more than a moment. When I looked into these eyes hope was regained in me. It was the hope that one day I could have eyes like his. That one day I could feel as he must feel. The more I thought about it the more incredible it seemed that a pair of eyes could stir up all these fantastic feelings inside me. I thought that if this man’s eyes could give me so much he must be an extraordinary human being. Almost a super-being with the power to inspire thousands in pursuing knowledge, in books and in life. To inspire them to use this knowledge to make the world a better place. To bring happiness and hope to everyone they meet. Such colossal ideas were formed in my mind when I looked into these eyes. I once met a man and I murdered that man.
The body count keeps piling up... - No, joking aside, I think you drew an interesting character here in the first person narrator/madman... He of course sounds a bit like Poe's narrator of Berenice who thought that her identity lay in her teeth (and therefore pulled them all out).
ReplyDelete