I woke up with Porphyria, laughed with Porphyria and lived with Porphyria. Every aspect of my life included some part of her. Wherever I went, she was always with me. Her eyes were looking down to me from the sky and her body brought warmth to my bed when she slept with me. Porphyria kept me reasonable and calm. We loved each other that night. I love her and she loves me forever now.
Porphyria and I were made for each other, made to be as one together. She is mine and only mine. I cannot imagine another man touching her apart from me. Other men do not deserve such grace.
Everyone asks me how I committed the “crime”. I’m not a killer. I consider my actions to be sane; therefore my so-called crime is not actually a criminal offense. I tell you Your Honor, Porphyria has eternal beauty, eternal sleep and eternal love, which can never be taken.
On that cold night, the rain started earlier than I expected. The rain brought the wind, which was so vigorous that it tore the elm-tops down and even annoyed the lake. As I watched the rain and listened the sound of the wind, I sat there with my heart to break. I hopelessly waited for my Porphyria to come. My expectations of meeting with her slowly diminished with the sullen wind. And then, just when I lost hope, Porphyria came with rain and wind and glided through my humble cottage door. She filled the cottage with her warmth and love. She lit the fire in my grate and with it came a burning love.
I have never been so happy in my life. I wasn’t lonely anymore. Frankly, I was with the person who I loved the most. Porphyria stayed with me in this miserable weather rather than wasting her day with her educated and arrogant friends. At last, she came to me with her free will.
Porphyria took off her cloak and the shawl, which perfectly fitted her body. She then slowly removed her gloves from her delicate hands and the hat that hid her long, blonde hair. There she was, with her hair fallen to the side, standing there with such pride.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when Porphyria approached me and sat by my side. She called my name with her gentle voice. At last, we were together after I’ve waited for so long in my lonely cottage for Porphyria to come. She sat down next to me, I put my arm around her and rest my head upon her shoulder. There, she revealed her true, long-lasting love to me, which she kept in secret for all those years. Yet, she was too weak to free herself from her pride to give herself to me. Porphyria was having doubts about our relationship just because her reputation in the high-class society would be lost if we would be together. But, at the end, love beat her pride. She even chose not to attend that night’s gay feast just to spend time with me.
That night, I knew Porphyria worshipped me. She wanted me as her only lover in life. I wanted to live and keep this sacred moment for the rest of my life. Porphyria gave herself to me with pure and good intentions. She only belonged to me.
I held Porphyria’s sweet soft hair in one yellow string and wound it three times around her slim throat. I strangled her with all my might. After all, she felt no pain since that’s what she always wanted, to be put out of misery to keep our love everlastingly.
I don’t care if a person calls me a “murderer”. I was never a murderer and I will never be. I don’t care if I go to jail. Because nothing will change my mind and the way I feel about Porphyria’s death. I t had to be done for our love’s sake. It had to be done to satisfy Porphyria’s wish. I feel no shame or sorrow from my actions. Even God didn’t “punish” me for my actions, so why should I worry? I have got anything to lose.
Sincerely yours,
George Benson.
