Murder in the Second Person

(1999?)
A high school English teacher once told us that stories are told in the first or third person. Never the second. Ah, a challenge.


YOU!
Yeah, you.
          You know you’re guilty.
                    You were there.

Maybe not in flesh, but in spirit.
Because you knew all the details.
Yeah, you had access to all the info.
          Maybe not every time,
                    but when it was all over, you knew.
Yeah, you knew.

At the very least you’re an accessory before, during and after the fact.
In fact,
          you’re the reason all these crimes were committed.

Don’t deny it! It’s true. Oh, yeah, it’s true.
All those senseless murders are your fault.

YOUR FAULT!

All right.
          You didn’t actually with your own hands commit the atrocious deeds.
But you paid for ‘em.
          You bought ‘em.
                    What’s the legal terminology for hiring an assassin?

Oh! the price of blood. Spilled blood. Cold blood. The life was in the blood.
(Do you like that word “blood”?
          A kinda blunt word, blood.)

And for what?
          To entertain your passion,
                    your love of the hunt;
                              the chase.

And never the same.
No, sir. No one can pin an M.O. on you.
          Except for maybe who does the killing.
          You might stick with a certain “craftsman” of the trade,
          but you demand they vary their methods somewhat —
                    just to keep it interesting.
A gun.
A knife.
Exotic poison.
In the dark.
In the open.
Nobody knows. Everybody sees.
The more bizarre and fantastic,
          the better.
                    And yet,
you really don’t care how they die,
          just
                    as long
                              as
          someone is dead.

Dead for your pleasure.

And you just couldn’t resist
the temptation for one more.
                                        Just one more.
Seduced by the deception…
the uncertainty…
the romance.

You know you’re guilty as sin.
You know you never could resist a good murder
mystery.