The confessions of a cold-hearted murderer...

I guess I have killed the medicine ball, finally!

You see, it was not my fault. I can safely say it was self-defense. Doesn’t matter if every one says a ball is incapable of harming people. They don’t know this ball. I knew it.

Since the very first day that it came to our life, it didn’t like me. In fact, it even hated me. Mr. Alchemist had seen it in the store, bought it, brought it home, and filled it with air. Since that very first moment the ball turned happily towards him, played around his feet and carried him kindly when he leaned on the ball. Then came my turn. I leaned on the ball and it just threw me away! I couldn’t believe it. After Mr. Alchemist stopped laughing at me, he tried to demonstrate the exercise again, which felt like a charm. Smooth and easy. As soon as I went for the ball, it escaped, rolled over, and threw me again.

It didn’t stop there. At nights, I could hear the ball coming towards me, I would open my eyes very slowly, and the ball was just there, doing nothing, but I could swear it was closer to me than before. Sometimes I would squeeze in under an edge of a chair, or behind a stand. It would wait and wait, and when I was alone in the room, ironing or folding the laundry, would release itself and rushed to run over me…pretty creepy stuff, I know. But believe me, I was scared for my life. Specially that Mr. Alchemist thought I was paranoid. Whom could I turn to? 911? “Hello sir, our medicine ball is trying to kill me. I can feel it.”?

So I decided to take action. I waited for the right moment. Last week, an extermination of bed bugs was supposed to be done in our building. The preparation process required everything to be packed in big plastic bags. And there it was, the right moment. I put on my most innocent smile on a kind face, and with a cold heart, pulled the largest thickest plastic bag over the medicine ball. We left for the day, and by the time we went back home at night, the apartment smelt terrible, well, with all that poison and closed windows. Since then, I haven’t heard anything from the ball. I guess I have killed the ball, finally…

***
*In the anniversary of what happened last june in my country, with all my sorrow and desperation for I cannot do anything, with all the anger and sadness for the hopes that died away, this was the only thing I could do, to kill something, something, something...