An actor's curse

           Comatose: Diary of a serial killer

 
''...to inhabit a role. To pull it around you like a cloak; to immerse yourself in it. To become one with the character you portray.... That is the hallmark of a great actor.''


I continued on to amble and saunter along the less crouded streets of Nairobi as I allowed my mind to drift off. It was 2200h. The street lights cast a somewhat blinding glare on the tarmac. The cold night air was chilling on my frail frame. Yet the drops of sweat went on with their incessant cascade. I could feel my blood throb on my temples as I pondered my mission for the night.
    ''It must look like an accident!''  
   ''It must look like an accident!''
 I couldn't shake the thought away. It was mine. Mine, and mine alone. As loud as any shout, I could feel it reverberating with every heart beat.
   ''It must look like an accident!'' 
What could I do...but proceed with my henious act.


The door to the hotel room felt a strange warmth as I slowly turned it. The door clicked open. Inside an affluent aura of class engulfed me and I immediately realized how worlds apart people are with their brothers. A beautiful maroon carpet blanketed the entire room. The off-white walls were shod with expensive paintings from abroad  that either attested to our lack of talent in art, or our sheer joy to enrich dead artists as our own continue to sink deeper in poverty.
   ''Pity,'' I exclaimed as I admired an exquisite Da Vinci piece.

On the bed,she lay. Peaceful. Calm. Her soft breathing music to my ears. I took a step towards her, feeling the weight of every muscle that turned. Her lush,dark African hair was anything but lovely. Beyond mere beauty. I could feel my heart beat increase with every step. My breathing went up. My eyes narrowed on my target.I tightened the grip on the blade. Closer...and closer...and closer...and....

   ''Hey there girl,'' she exclaimed. ''Why so late?''
   ''I had to stay a little bit longer,'' I told her. ''To make sure that he was well satisfied...with the price.''
   ''Do you have the weapon?'' She asked as she sat up on the lush bed.
   ''Ofcourse.''
I took out the the dagger and gave it to her. She smiled as it shimmered under the flourescent light. ''Any conditions?'' She asked.
   ''It must look like an accident,'' I told her as I sat on the bed. ''Its not going to be easy is it?''
   ''Weeelll.....,''
   ''Well what?'' I asked her.
   ''Ever hear of  'An Actor's Curse' ?''
   ''No.''
   ''William Shakespeare said that we are all actors, and this world is our stage. An actor is a person, a performer if you will, who manipulates himself or herself for the joy and entertainment of others. What Shakespeare never told us was that once you are on that stage,you completely loose yourself. You have no control of who you are. You cease to become yourself''
   ''You become another person.''
   ''Correct. Whether clown, husband or wife...''
   ''...or even a killer.''
She came closer to me while wielding the sharp weapon.She brandished it closer to my face,merely whiskers away. ''Or even you,'' she said before pursing her lips together and dabbing mine with a sinful kiss.
   ''Subtle,'' I said with the warmth of her breathe still replete. ''Yet I beg to differ.''
   ''Oh really,''she said. ''How so?''
   ''An actor chooses to be lost. He decides whether or not he is going to be completely emersed in his character.''
   ''Then he is not a good actor.''
   ''Not exactly. You see,what ought to happen is this; an actor is supposed to create a whole new character. We need to stop performing roles and characters that are well over passed there era. Come up with something never seen before.''
   ''Read your Bible hunny. There's nothing new under the sun.''
   ''True,but what about above the sun?! Why does the Bible say 'Behold, Am doing something new'? Why does it say that 'God is going to do somethong that no eye has seen, no ear has heard, nor has it come to the minds of men what He will do through those who love Him?''
   '' So what are you saying?'' She asked obviously curious.
   ''What am saying, Ophelia, is that it's about time we create  another Sherlock Holmes. A character who is going to revolutionize this planet. A character with amaizing ways of doing things. Lets stop riding on the success if others and make our own.''
Ophelia looked at me and burst out laughing. Apparently, my dreams and ambitions struck her funny. Yet deep down I knew what I was talking about. I was sure of my mission. No longer was I going to continue to laze around. No. Not any more.

  We are all actors. And this world is our stage. Whether city or village,it's a platform. And you are expected to perform. Stop emersing yourself with what goes on around you,stop taking another form. From sex to drugs. Poverty to wealth. Play your role. Do not become another person but remain your own. As unique as your print...do not plagued by anothers copy. Do not be plagued by an actor's curse!

       ''...a murderer. A person who in that moment of pure passion realizes feelings that have been buried inside. Takes hold of the knife and begins to slash and slash and slash and slash!...until life ebbs away... Only to be plagued by guilt later on. When the director yells 'cut'...the deed is done and can't be undone. Careful,for in the same way every play has an ending,so has every life...and life's short. There's no time to rehearse!...''