The Endless Murder

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Short Story by: Shogi

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Status: Finished | Genre: Mystery and Crime | House: Booksie Classic

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A man finds himself in a room with a dead body of his father. Did I kill him......?

Submitted: December 01, 2017

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Submitted: December 01, 2017

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When I came to, there was a dead body right in front of me.

A metal trophy is lying on the floor, just beside the smashed head.The blood seems to have already dried completely.

And this man with a painful expression; he was none other than my father.He was definitely dead in his dark, musty basement, where he shut himself up all day.I was looking at the very scene in a daze as if it had nothing to do with me.

So, WHAT HAS HAPPENED!? I questioned myself, but I couldn’t remember even a bit.But I wasn’t panicked, either.I mean,this always happens to me:my memory disappears every thirty minutes since the accident in my childhood.Well, to be more precise, what I forget is not everything.

I just lose the memory of what I have done in the thirty minutes.Of course, I can still write or speak, or even learn the circular constant by heart, which I had memorized a long time ago.

I found a memo pad hanging on my neck. What the heck is this? Written on the cover was the title ”memorandum”, and it said,”I decided to carry on my memory using this.”

I opened it, and found many kinds of events written along with the date and time.It was a diary, so to speak, for an amnesia patient like me.

Anyway, I read the latest page.

“I can’t forgive him.I’m gonna kill my father.”

...... I clicked my tongue.I was vaguely aware, but now it’s obvious. It seems like I am the one who killed my father. Hey, “past me”, I thought, you got me in a big trouble!

Then, I noticed that the letters written were kind of awkward, too messy for me.I also paid attention to the blood once more; why is it already clotted? I’m no expert in autopsy, but I was pretty sure that at least an hour has passed since his death.Hmm......

It wasn’t long before I arrived at a conclusion: I’ve been framed.Someone is taking advantage of my tendency to lose memories, and tying to put the blame on me for the murder.That unnatural handwriting is the proof that somebody tried to deceive me.Probably, the intention of the real criminal was to make me and the people who saw the memo assume that I am the murderer.Well, nice try, but that guy seems to have underestimated my intelligence.All I have to do is to delete the sentence.

After erasing it with an eraser neatly,I started to reflect on the next question.Who in the world killed my father? Who is it that attempted to trick me? I had no idea at all.

I may have to cool down a bit and ponder over this mystery in my room. I turned back and closed the door behind me.I went up the dusty stairs in slippers and headed for my room.In the room was a bookshelf and a closet.There was also a magazine left open on the desk. Without paying attention to any of those, I sat down on a sofa and got lost in thought.So, what should I do now......?

When I came to,I was sitting on a sofa in a bare room.What was I doing? I checked my memorandum, but there was nothing written in the latest page.Was I just sleeping or something? Then,I noticed a weekly magazine on the desk in front of me. Seems like I was reading this.I lowered my eyes and glanced at the headline: “The fearful experiment on human beings by the mad scientist Dr.S.”

I would just laughed off this fishy article, if Dr.S were not my father.Being intrigued, I read through the story to find out the shocking truth.The article said that Dr.S was injuring his children attempting to create the savant syndrome artificially.The example of a foreign nine-year-old boy who gained an extraordinary engineering ability after having a gunshot wound in his brain was cited.Of course, reality is not that simple, and some children are still suffering from the after effects of the experiment—.The article was concluded with those disturbing words.

......I was trembling.

......It’s me.

I am the victim, suffering this terrible amnesia.

A kind of emotion I have never experienced before arose.

My father ruined my whole life.In the first place, could I call these discontinuous days “a life”? It was impossible to control my anger.I couldn’t hold back my intent to kill him.

I scribbled on the memorandum: I can’t forgive him.I’m gonna kill my father.Then, I dashed out of the room without so much as closing the magazine.Needless to say, I headed for the basement, where my father is conducting research all day long.

I descended the stairs, step by step.I noticed that there were already some footprints of mine in the dust.It was kind of strange since I have no reason to come here usually.However, that question didn’t stop me from going downstairs. I kept on walking.

Finally,I reached the door.I realized for the first time that I haven’t decided how to kill him, but I soon recalled the existence of a metal trophy in the room; just the right thing to strike my father with.

I took a deep breath. I had no hesitation any longer.I turned the doorknob, banged the door open, took a step forward, and then—.

When I came to, there was a dead body right in front of me.