Hear No Evil

Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil. A phrase I lived my entire life by. Literally. I lived in a neighbourhood in which every set of parents looked up to me as their mentor, their guide, and a teacher to their children of the everyday enticements and evils that they should be vigilant of. I loved my work. The children would skip up to the door of my old Victorian manor, eager to learn about the bible and its intriguing stories every Sunday. However, the other six days of the week, I saw them exposed to unspeakable villainy and sin. I couldn’t bear to watch the children live like this, it sickened me, it made my blood boil and my skin crawl, to know that their parents were careless in protecting their children from such devilry. I had to act, I had to protect their innocence, if their neglectful families would not do it. They would regret ever letting their children slip through their fingers and into the hands of the devil. I was their only saviour.

It was a bleak and dreary morning on a Sunday in July, when I decided to execute my plan to save these poor children. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil. I came to my front door, dressed in my usual cream trousers and flannel shirt, leaning on the door post and waiting for my students to come with their smiles gleaming from their ignorant faces. Today would be the day I would show their parents what happens when you let in the devil.

My five, cheerful students came always on time, 10 o’clock on this bleak and dreary Sunday morning. I stood up straight, opened my antique door, and welcomed the children into my home, greeting each as they crossed the threshold, eager to learn a new chapter in the bible today. Three boys and two girls they were. From very well off families to, which meant I was always paid a good deal of money for my work. Of course, the fact of teaching these children of goodness and God was more satisfying the coloured notes. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil.

I started off the lesson with a few prayers with the children, before getting straight into the chapter we were currently studying. Each student raised their hands whenever I asked a question, and always got them right. Today however, one of the students named Adam, sat at the very back, didn’t raise his hand once and found out was playing his game console under the desk. That was maliciousness right there. At 12 o’clock when the lesson ended, I asked Adam to stay back while the other children left my home happily and walked back to theirs. Adam sat down on the couch in my lounge, right opposite me. He was still playing that awful game of his. My anger slowly rose, but I kept it at bay so as to ask Adam why he didn’t participate in class. After all, it wasn’t his fault the devil was winning against him. It was his horrible mother and father who didn’t care to notice which path he was following. Adam didn’t tell me much, except one sentence that cut me like a knife. ” I don’t like Sunday school anymore. I don’t want to go. Its lame and boring and I want to hang out with my friends who don’t have to go, instead.” Adam had been attending my teachings longer than any of my other students who I have taught gracefully, and these words just broke my heart, but also fuelled my anger at his parents. Is this the kind of sinful words that they have been feeding and spewing at him? How on earth had they been raising him at home? Poor, poor Adam, he has no guidance with his parents. I knew what I had to do. I asked Adam if he could put his console down for a minute, which he did, and then requested if he would like to try some of my delicious muffins before he went back home. A child could never resist a treat, and so he gladly accepted with that ignorant smile of his pasted onto his face. I told him I would be back in a few minutes and left him in the lounge, walking towards my kitchen.

Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil. My muffins were already laid out on my wooden, kitchen bench to be cooled. I had made them early this morning, for I knew what special ingredient I would have to add for my plan to work, to seek vengeance on the children’s’ parents, and the devil himself. I placed three, delicious, blueberry muffins onto a ceramic plate, and returned back to Adam. As soon as I placed the plate onto the coffee table, Adam grabbed one quite rudely, and without saying thank you, began to devour the muffin in a matter of seconds. I attempted to refrain from smiling, knowing what would happen to Adam in a few minutes, once he finished swallowing the muffin. Or two. ” What do you say? ” I asked of Adam, smiling now, and gazing into his eyes. ” Thank…thank….tha—” thump. The child was fast asleep. My plan was in motion, but I had to move quickly before his dreaded parents came snooping around wondering where he had gotten off to. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil.

I had added chloroform to the blueberry muffins. Adam went out like a light, and once he was unconscious, I picked his tiny frame up and carried him down to my basement. My heart was pounding ten times every second, but I knew once I had finished with the first child, I would get used to doing this procedure. Adam woke up to find himself tied down onto a hard, wooden table, with electrical tape over his mouth. I stood hovering over him, his fearful eyes staring up at me, then looking hysterically. He tried to scream as tears cascaded down his cheeks. I just sighed and stroked his head, pulled up a chair and continued to show some ‘affection’. This was the right thing to do, the only way to stop the devil from winning this round. ” The devil has taken a hold of you, Adam. Unfortunately, your parents are the people to blame, but they cannot save you now. Only I have that power, the way, to release you from this evil, to set you free. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil.”

I stood up, took one more glance at Adam, before picking up a bread knife, which lay next to an ice cream scoop and a needle and thread. Hear no evil. I grabbed Adam’s left ear with my right hand, and began to saw with the bread knife, with my left hand. I whispered prayers as I cut, listening to the bone and cartilage breaking, crunching, dispersing, and the blood dripping ever so rapidly onto the table, while Adam tried to scream even more, out in pain. Speak no evil. I lay the bloody break knife down and disposed of his two ears in a bucket next to my feet. More whispering, more attempted yells from Adam, as I picked up the sewing needle and thread, and grabbing onto his throat, ripped off the tape, and before he could begin to scream again, I then grabbed his lips, and immediately stabbed the needle threw his skin on his mouth, sewing quite quickly as Adam began to struggle, blood choking his throat and pouring out what were once his ears. See no evil. The last of what would be Adam’s repentance to God. As soon as I picked up the ice cream scoop, his struggling vigorously increased, his crying intensified, and I barely felt any sympathy towards him. I knew it was the right thing to do. I had no choice. The devil would take over my entire community through the minds of the children if I didn’t put a stop to this diabolicalness.

There was crimson liquid everywhere. Remnants of what was left of Adam’s sin. The loss of blood resulted in Adam passing out, and slowly but surely he passed into the next life. My first deed was done. The parts of the child’s anatomy that I had removed, I placed into a small jar and labelled it with Adam’s name, then went to the back of my basement in which lay a chest, and placed the jar carefully inside. Once I returned back to Adam’s body, my heart began to race. I had not planned on what to do with the bodies of the children, being so caught up in the act itself. I glanced over at my gardening tools to my right, and stared at my shovel. Ahah.

It was around 1 in the afternoon, and splatters of rain came from the heavens as dark clouds dispersed over the dreary sky. I had wrapped Adam’s body in black, plastic rubbish bags, and carried it out to the very back of my garden. I began to carefully dig a rectangular hole, sweat forming on my face and neck as I worked and worked. I dumped the small body into the ditch, and recovered it with the soil I had dug out. Thunder began to disturb my neighbourhood, and a violent wind soon began to form. The Devil? He was definitely still amongst all the children I had yet to save. There was much more work to be done before I could safely tell myself that Satan had disappeared from our lives here.

The weeks went by. One child every one or two weeks. Their parents’ never suspected, and the small town police were completely clueless. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil. Ears, mouths and eyes lay in jars in my chest in the basement. More graves, more prayers to God. More lives to save from the Devil.

It was after 5 children had been saved, that I began to have trouble sleeping. I knew the devil was at hand, yet I did not want to believe it. I started to have horrific nightmares, filled with violence, anger, murders, showers of ears, rivers of mouths, and eyes. Eyes followed me everywhere in my dreams, constantly watching me, scaring me, and every time I woke up in a cold, sticky sweat. Sleeping pills did not work. The nightmares continued, but I tried to ignore them, telling myself, they were just dreams, and I continued with my work every Sunday.

On a cool night in September, I sat in my living room, the wood fire burning embers of yellow, orange and red, while I drank a small glass of brandy. It was 9 o’ clock. The wind outside rustled the trees, and caused the chimes hanging near my front door to sing a song. My eyes were sleepy, opening and closing, opening and closing. Eventually, I drifted into sleep, my hand still holding my glass of alcohol. I couldn’t even hear the crackling of the fire, which once I had closed my eyes, faded and there was nothing but small hints of smoke. CRASH. I woke up startled, my entire house in pitch black. I stood up, and moved slightly forward, hearing the sound of breaking glass under my feet. Damn it. My drink had slipped out of my hand. The wind had grown more violent, and I could hear its howls and screams as clear as my own thoughts. I struggled to find the lamp, feeling with my hands over couches and tables, till I came to the switch. Flick.

I yelled.

I couldn’t move. I stared, eyes wide open, at the walls of my living room. Dripping in blood, were the words I had lived my life by. I shook my head, closed my eyes, and reopened them. This can’t be real, I thought. I must still be dreaming. I ran throughout the house, the same messages written in blood on every wall, every surface. Who’s blood though? I heard whispers in my head. Whispers that manipulated me to run to my basement door. I stood right in front of it. A huge, bloody eye had been painted onto the door. The whispers continued, cries of children, evil laughs which compelled me to open the door. I did, and cautiously walked down the stair. This is but a dream, I kept telling myself. But as I walked down each wooden step, I found it harder and harder to believe that so.

I stopped at the end of the staircase. Devilish screams filled my ears, and the faces of the children I had saved penetrated my eyes. Stop. Stop. Please stop. Stop it!!!! I yelled. But the voices wouldn’t, and childish laughs complimented their faces. I closed my eyes, hoping that once I opened them everything would go away. I lifted my eyelids slowly, the faces were gone, but the voices weren’t. Instead in front of my was the table I had dismembered the children, and the three tools I used. A horrific voice entered my mind, telling me to move towards the table. My skin crawled at the voice. That evil voice. The devil. He had invaded me, after using all the children, he had come to me. And I knew what I had to do, to save myself this time. To join the children.

Hear no evil. I yelled in pain, and blood dripped down my clothing and pooled onto the floor. I keeled over onto the table, dropping the knife and attempting to pick up the needle and thread. The voices continued, growing louder, malicious laughs filled the basement. Tears formed in my eyes as my bloody hands sowed my mouth together, and I screaming from my very throat I thought my voice box was going to jump out my sealed mouth. The wind howled even more, the screams continued as I finally picked up the ice cream scoop. The eye I saw from my dream, I felt all around me, like the devil and even God himself was watching me as I performed the last ‘ritual’ on myself. I could barely scream anymore, as I dropped the ice cream scoops, and stumbled forward. I felt my feet squash my very eyeballs that had fallen onto the floor, and I stumbled forward, silently yelling in pain, as I crawled on my body, up the stairs, a trail of blood following me. My mind was going mad. I could hear screams yet my ears were cut off, and blood cascaded out of them. My heart pounded in my chest, as I reach the basement door once again. But too much blood had been lost. More blood then I had expected. My blood that had been used for those messages. Blood that had completely escaped from my body, resulting in me ending up like those children.

But at least I had escaped the devil. And saved my soul. That thought was with me to the end.

Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil

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