Where new writing finds its voice
Short Story

When the Sun Sets, the Moon Rises.

Alex Lima

Phil is a nice guy, a really nice guy. He is a serial killer too. But this apparent conflict in his personality does not bother him. Actually, he finds it kind of funny.

A little problem afflicts him, though. He can’t drink water. Every time he tries to do it, he visualises the body of the women he killed rotting in the bottom of the lake. He can even feel their taste in his mouth. That makes him sick every time. He knows this is a silly thing, but he can’t help it.

The solution he found was to drink soda or liquor instead of water. In his mind the intense chemical process employed in the manufacture of these beverages dissolves the taste and particles of corpses in the water that they are made with.

That solution worked for a while. Just until he was caught and thrown in to Death Row. Here all he is given to drink is water. This has taken him several times to the infirmary to be treated for acute dehydration.

Initially, he had a little of a hard time adapting to prison life. But now all is too familiar, the rhythm is comfortable. He does not mind the extra hint of vengeance when the female nurses puncture his vein with the IVs: the camaraderie with male guards balances that, making the days go easy. The routine is pretty organised, defined and foreseeable which allows him to relax. He even knows the day he is supposed to die. If nothing else, he knows how much time he has left to not waste his life.