The night I contemplated murder

Despite the docile tones of Moby washing over me, I still wanted to kill him. I hated him and everything he stood for – essentially comfort and peace – and considering that was a state of being I wasn’t going to achieve that night, I felt he deserved to die for it.

It was about 4 or 5am, and I had been awake for hours. Staying in an eight person dorm I found it extremely hard to believe I was the only one awake from this guy’s thunderous snores, and I was wondering if there was any way I could somehow catch the attention of a dormmate and enlist their help in my illicit plan to murder a man as he peacefully slept.

I felt if someone bore the burden with me I might actually have the courage to do something about the desperate situation I found myself in. To be fair, he was so out of it we could have held a seven person war council in the middle of the room discussing tactics and stratagem at lengths without any fear that this behemoth would wake up.

As they say in war, “never know the face of your enemy; it makes any order that much harder to fulfil.”

The fact that Alex, the amiable American, and I had been boozing only a few hours before made matters worse. Firstly, I felt partially responsible for 1,000 decibel battle horn that seemed to be reverberating and resonating within all four walls of the room. And secondly, I liked the guy. So much so that I would have mourned his passing.

Take Alex out of his sedative state and he was a barrel of laughs; in it, he was a monster, a horrible human being who needed to be put down, if not for the sake of mankind, for the sake of the six other people who were subjected to this devil’s own personal purgatory.

I lay there, watching him for hour after hour, contemplating every single avenue, considering every way out of the situation, and they all lead to the same conclusion – murder.


Now, you may be sitting there reader, saying to yourself “why didn’t you just wake him up?”

Don’t take me for a fool. I had tried every known means possible, even a few unknown means, to try and wake him from his sleep, but he was dead to the world. That’s how I came to the firm decision that it might be better if he were actually dead to the world.

So, it lead me to murder.

The execution of this simple plan would’ve been easy; a single pillow over the face until a blissful and poignant silence descended upon the room. I have no doubt no one would have stopped me. Heck, I may have even turned around to recognised acceptance that I did what needed to be done.

Alas, the opportunity was stolen from me as the rosy fingers of dawn crept into the room.

Instead of stewing in my own manifested cauldron of hate, I thought it was best for everyone, most importantly myself, if I put the room and my feelings with it behind me.

A few hours later Alex found me in the common room with a mischievous grin playing across face. Somehow he knew the inner turmoil I had put myself through.

“Sleep well?” he asked, and all I could do was laugh… indexTo prevent this happening to you, I suggest you read my article on sleeping in a dorm room – I give some handy hints and tips so you don’t have to contemplate murder in the middle of a dorm room…