Notes from inside

Actually, this is not what it seems. But why should anyone know? Cause I never did anything that would warrant this placement. Dude, just listen up here, okay? Eventually, we must all die. Forever is not real. God, I sound so fatalistic. Hold on though, let me go back and let me explain. I am not who I seem. Jokes aside, my name is actually Jesse. “Killer Jesse” as they call me here. Low-key, I didn’t do it, but for the purposes of my reputation, let’s just say I did. Man would my ass get beat if people here knew what I actually did on that night. No way in hell I’d ever tell anyone or anything–and that includes this diary that my friend from the outside gave me. Poor Pablo though, he’s the one who has to suffer the consequences of chopping off all those limbs. Question I often ask myself: does he get nightmares about it? Really, I’d like to know because even though I only touched it after it was dead, I still get nightmares.

Suppose I’d done it though, do you think I’d still be able to maintain my sense of humor? Tell me, is it possible to murder and still live joyously? Under different circumstances, I’d spill the full beans, but I don’t know who will read this. Very easy to mislead on paper, but not so much in person, right? Well, at least that’s my belief.

Xylophone!

Yo, my time is almost up, Xylophone is coming through with some mail, with love of course; and you know what, that’s not a bad thing. Zorro; I can be his Zorro.

[The exercise for this post is to write a short story with the following conditions: It is exactly twenty-six sentences in length. Each sentence begins with a word that starts with one of the letters of the alphabet-in order]