Killing the Queens

Note : I have no idea what this is, it started out as some form of murder mystery thriller which took a third person look at a series of university murders, but then it sort of turned into a manifesto about the sadistic nature of human society? Not quite sure if it conforms with the general specifications of a traditional short story or if it's more of a dark twisted fable, but at the same time I kinda like it so….. Enjoy, and let me know how bearable/unbearable the lack of consistent in depth narrative story telling translates into this odd accumulation of whatever is going on inside my head. 

The first murder had been written off as a mere accident, a tragic but reasonably plausible misfortune that sent the victim careening over the ledge of her second story windowsill. Lizzie Williams had been an exceptionally vapid young woman with a promising future of excessive power over more than a few of her family’s assets ahead of her, and the privilege of support from the most prestigious university that could be bribed to turn a blind eye towards her undoubtedly fabricated educational achievements. She was intensely frustrating and unquestionably despised by many, but to the point where there were grounds on which to murder her? Such a notion was utterly ridiculous. That was the authorities first mistake. 

Sure enough tragedy soon struck again, and the victim was none other than one of Lizzie's select social circle. This time the foul play involved was blatantly obvious, with Dasha Kepler’s mutilated body hung by the very silken bed sheets she adored above the main entrance to Caedes University’s library. Bloody fingers clutching a sodden slip of paper containing only  two words. Fakers Beware. The message was immediately clear once the events of Lizzie Williams death were reevaluated as potential murder. The A-list group of girls both victims had associated with exclusively were by very definition, fake, plastic, and horrifically vain in their narcissistic personas. The perfect clique of “Popular girls” that everybody both admired and abhorred. And also, the perfect selection of victims for a destructive and power hungry sadist, who had a thing for less than academically inclined individuals who dominated their community's social scene. 

And so when a third of the notorious circle of friends was repeatedly stabbed to death, and a fourth ran through with a chainsaw, any shock that might have consumed the student body was somewhat diminished. If anything, the thrill of a potential serial killer picking off the high ranking members of University society was exhilarating, intoxicating, and even encouraged. Within the cul de sac neighbourhoods of student accommodations, folklore surrounding the nature of the killer flourished. As the once untouchable facade shielding the “Queens”, as the public was now referring to them, crumbled, thousands of theories were cultivated among the morbidly enthralled students. Some referred to the killer as the saviour of academics, a benevolent spirit hell bent on eradicating the damaging class system woven into the fabric of the institution, of which the Queens were most certainly at the top of. Others believed the killer was some sicko stalker, one of the many the Queens had constantly accused of harassment for crimes as insignificant as neglecting to give up a seat when all the prime seating in the lecture halls was occupied. But perhaps the most popular theory was that the evil plaguing the lives of the Queens was none other than sweet karma come to seek payment for their no doubt numerous sins. 

With such an abundance of intrigue swathing them, the killer undoubtedly basked in their glory. A blog sprung up, where the killer unabashedly described their crimes and replied to questions concerning the intricacies of his inevitable plans for the Queens. Social media platforms both dedicated to and upheld by the killer were in their hundreds. Each declaring the killers every move in a bold show of confidence to the authorities, and even bringing in a handsome profit for the nefarious criminal behind the murders. Whoever the culprit was, they were charming, witty, even amiable and jovial in the manner in which they conducted themselves over the internet. Such openness about their own evils revolted most, but for the majority of those on campus, the killer's bravado was admirable and daring. 

And so, just like that, the killer had won the hearts of the community it was wreaking havoc within. Over the course of a year, throughout which the University went through multiple closings and re-openings, all those who even dared to associate closely with the Queens were brutally slaughtered to the soundtrack of applause and praise. Notes were left at nearly all of the crime scenes, letters of thanks and proclaimed love foolishly addressed to the killer by a greater number of students than the institute’s faculty would care to admit. In a mere twelve months the University had come to embody the very culture within human society that romanticised evil and condoned sadistic behaviour in the name of entertainment. Because that was all the murdered girls had become. Entertainment, grisly, horrid, and sick entertainment. 

Many would have you believe that such an atrocity as a society where nearly every member was in favour of their peers being killed for blood sport is preposterous. That the students of Caedes University, were merely all victims of mass hysteria, or some evermore terrible societal affliction. But moving beyond stories of brutalised Queens, and the destruction of social hierarchy, the darkness that consumed this small fictional academic institution continues to fester and grow in every dark corner of humanity. In both our reality and our fiction we are infinitely more intrigued and captivated by he who would slay his best friend than he who would justifiable slay those who would wish him harm. Thus with the conclusion of these few sentences, understand that this story is not a story, it is a truth, and a letter to the inner killer within us all. 

Fin