Poems

a short tale

What makes good people do bad things?
Situations? Circumstances? Or an innate evilness lying in wait in every human being waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike?
  The woman was clearly guilty. The blood was splattered all over her cream terylene dress, her hands were soaked in it. She was kneeling on the black lush carpet sobbing loudly, the serrated kitchen knife clutched lightly in her right hand. The victim was lying prostrate on the floor. He really had no chance. The young cop could see no less than 15 stab wounds jaggedly distributed round the victim's body. His stomach rolled and curled with nausea within him. Why was he the one called in? His shift was supposed to end in 15 minutes time. His partner had stepped outside two minutes after arriving at the scene to call for an ambulance and most likely to puke. It was a gory scene. Silly excuse seeing as it was quite obvious that the victim was dead. The murderer was still on scene. She most likely placed the call to the station herself. It was a clear cut and solved case but it was gruesome.
    "Ma'am, please drop your weapon and step away from the body" the rookie cop said.
   The woman dropped the knife into the pool of blood around the body and shuffled backwards on her knees. _smile. John. Smile. Smile while I cut you open_ she thought. The Chelsea smile she left on his face was a nice touch. After all he did to her, he expected her to live with it happily. His skin peeled back exposing his teeth. _I'm free from him. Forever_ she sobbed louder. Tears of joy. Of freedom. She willingly stretched out her hands for the young cop to cuff and she got lost in her thoughts. She was free.