December 31

This is the last night. Not for the world, a popular sitcom, or for terrorism in foreign countries, but, this night. If I’ve left you curious, good. But I assure you, by the end of this you’ll understand.

The newsstands fill with magazine after magazine telling us, as if we don’t know, about the lives we just lived, history we just experienced—‘what happened this year’—as it all comes crashing to a halt. But this halt is followed by a metamorphosis. It is a good thing. A birth into ‘new’ life, new history, a new year. It is spectacular. Many nationwide rejoice, for it gives them another chance. With this, they can alter the habits that kept their character down. They can become better and make more of their lives all with this rebirth. Possibly, with this they can become rich, get married, have kids—possibilities are endless. A crashing halt, yet, a continuous, graceful course through time.

For weeks, many prepare to celebrate the birthday of the year. Plans, plans, and more plans. Though it may be a bit stressful, this preparation is good. It’s good for the economy; it’s good for life. It keeps people busy, looking forward to a time of laughter, drinking, and good, clean fun. The mind gets its exercise, even if in a miniscule way. So it’s not just the moment, but even the time before the time.

And day after day, we wait in anticipation. The seconds travel passed us so slowly. We hold out, for what else could we do? Sweat migrating down our face. It’s the day! Tonight will be OUR night. So, the celebration begins prematurely. Trembles, quakes, and quivers down your spine and back up. Perhaps more will happen this night than past nights. A girl gave you ‘that look’ the other day and you asked her over. Perhaps your boyfriend will propose. Maybe dad will let you have a drink, too, on such a night of celebration. You eagerly await for the few hours left until the time of happening. It is YOUR night.

Five… four… three… two… the ball drops. “Happy New Year!” Fireworks go off, emotions bust a spring, and rejoice—just rejoice! Alcohol spills over the glass, smiles on face after face, confetti becomes the air itself, and no other sound across the country except that of harmonious cheer. No one has any worries. This is the moment—THEIR moment. Celebration! Celebration! Celebration!

And you as well are caught up in it. For who can forsake such a time of splendor, who can forsake celebration? You cheer, you drink, and you party. But sadly, you are too caught up in the moment, that you have no worry. You are too caught up in the moment, too deafened by the celebration, that you don’t hear me. I break in during this time. This is the moment I wield my knife. This is MY time in which I kill. And this is the last night. The last night of your life.