Die is cast

People won’t like me.

I get that.

Hate even.

Fear perhaps.

But as my old grandmother used to say, you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. Change is always difficult for people to process. Change requires an element of destruction, destroying the old to make way for the new. It breaks the usual routine, the status quo.

We’re creatures of habit, generally. The cops will look for patterns in the madness. Some who walk on my side of the street try desperately hard to avoid patterns but with their conscious thoughts, they will unwittingly create them. The same area of town, the same type of victim, the same colour car, it’s buried so deep you often don’t even realise you’re doing it. But sometimes there is no pattern and I think that’s what scares people the most. That it could be them. That tomorrow they might meet me. We all know we’re going to die, and I think we all make our peace with that abstract concept but the thought that it could happen so soon and on someone else’s timetable, gets to people, deep, deep, down - scares them.

I decided a long time ago that if I wanted to make a career of this, take it seriously as a profession, it had to be random, no hidden messages, no clever riddles for the detectives to solve, just pure mathematical probability at work.

A six-sided dice, the very symbol of chance, seventeen per cent of possibility per side, rounding up.


For when the die is cast, another must die.


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260 words



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