Today I'm going to kill something. Someone. Anything. I feel the obligation to, that time has come around again. Every fortnight it is. Two weeks later and another person will be lucky, just like that.

        I kept to myself at school, not that I had any choice, the other little brats would not come anywhere near me. They knew I was too clever for them and the poor ones who thought they could overpower me knew where to go; they would be kissing my feet. I could have changed the world if somebody had let me, but I do not need to be given a chance on a plate to do so. Today I am going to do it. By myself.

        I look around the scrawny flat. It is a tip and always has been. I see the goldfish bowl on the floor and pick it up. I stare in and look at the little blighter. It hasn’t been fed in about a week, it did not deserve it. What does it do for me? All it does is swim around in it’s own little world and I am sick of it. I swish it around and it bashes against the sides. This is good. I sense the panic within the bowl and decide to put it out of it’s misery. I pour it rapidly into the bog. It swims around, and gets accompanied to it’s surroundings. Flush. It’s gone. A smile creeps around my face. I know I’m ready.

        There is a tense atmosphere in the flat now, I claw for the cat but it steams off. She knows I am a genius, a superstar, a God. There’s nothing that can stop me. I pull the phone off the hook and stab in the number to the local radio station. They tell me I will be on air in a few minutes and I stamp my foot impatiently. I’m on. I tell the man he’s talking to a superstar  and that...he cuts me off. I slam the phone back down, this has infuriated me. Nobody ever takes notice. But they will after today. I take out the bread-knife and emerge from the front door.

        I walk down the dull grey road. It is just one of those days today, an ordinary, boring day. Mondays are always the same, everybody hates them. I know you are close now. Still, the clouds overhead glare at me like great monsters, reaching out to get a piece of me. Everybody wants to get a piece of me. I am a God after all. I play with the knife in my trouser pocket, it makes me feel so solid, people look at me strangely as I walk down the street. They obviously think they have known me from somewhere before.

        Suddenly the World brightens up, everything around me glitters. A phenomenal rush runs through my body, I’ve seen you . There you are, ready to write another of your stories. You sit there all pretentious in your office but I know you will be out soon. I grab a paper from the stand and read another one of your successes. Front page this time. Soon your name will be on the front page for another reason.

        I stare a hole through the words you write. They are like poetry, like another language. Shakespearean or something. I would not know, English was not really my strong point. Well, you won’t be getting the front pages any more, soon they’ll realise I am the one they should have been writing about all along. I check my watch again. You never thought time could be such a precious thing but your eye will be forever upon it now. The demon from within me remains strong and will always seek justice. I imagine gauging through your precious make-up, scraping your skin, severing your organs and slowly grabbing the life away from you. Another smile emerges on my face and the sky becomes so light I cannot see, but it’s not the sky that produces the glow. It’s you. The dark clouds fade away to reveal your stunning figure advancing  ahead of me. I touch your arm.