My First Murder

I committed my first murder at the age of twelve. I had killed before, but before

there were always motives such as self defense mechanism and protection of property. On December

25, 1991, however, I killed for the carnal sake of killing. taking this life did not feel

wrong until the fraction of a second after it was too late. I remember vividly the pride I

felt in my steady aim, the rifle-sights barely moving from the tiny target I had chosen, and

then the crushing suffocation which replaced pride as soon as I squeezed my right index

finger. I was told that it was alright. My father say, good job. The government said that

I was acting within the limits of the law. Strangely, I felt no value in knowing I had my

father and the government on my side. I still suffered prosecution, not from any judge or

jury, but from myself.

        I am sure that by now you are revolt (a little anyway) with me. It may not

change your feelings any, but at least allow me explain that I did not kill any valet de chambre being.

The life which I took belonged to a squirrel, and squirrel was in season. some would call up it

a rodent, too stupid to get out of the path of their Goodyears.



On the other hand, I as well

as many others would call the squirrel and virtually other animals a dignified and noble

creature. Anyway, the life was a squirrels and the arm was a Crossman pellet rifle.

The weapon was a Christmas present, the squirrel was not included.

        Upon reach my grandparents farm for Christmas dinner (lunch for those of you

not raised in the country), I put up out after my adversary. Any adversary would have

sufficed, but it was the...

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