The Confession of a Murderer

"The Confession of a Murderer" by O. Henry is a compelling short story that delves into themes of guilt, deception, and the complexities of human nature. The narrative follows a man who, in a twist of fate, becomes embroiled in a murder investigation. As he grapples with his conscience and the consequences of his actions, the story unfolds with O. Henry's trademark wit and clever plot twists, ultimately revealing deeper truths about morality and the human condition. With its engaging dialogue and unexpected turns, the tale captivates readers and challenges their perceptions of justice and redemption.

• Short story

								
He is dead and I killed him.

I gaze upon him, lying cold and still, with the crimson blood welling
from his wound, and I laugh with joy. On my hand his life blood leaped
and I hold it proudly aloft bearing it accusing stain and in my heart
there is no pity, no remorse, no softness. Seeing him lie there
crushed and pulseless is to me more than the pleasure of paradise. For
months he escaped me. With all the intense hate I bore him at times, I
felt admiration for his marvelous courage, his brazen effrontery, his
absolute ignorance of fear. Why did I kill him? Because he had with a
fixed purpose and a diabolical, persistent effrontery, conspired to
rob me of that which is as dear to me as my life. Brave as I have said
he was, he scarcely dared to cross my path openly, but with insidious
cunning had ever sought to strike me a blow in the dark.

I did not fear him, but I knew his power, and I dared not give him his
opportunity.

Many a sleepless night I have spent, planning some means to rid myself
of his devilish machinations. He even attempted to torture me by
seeking to harm her whom I love. He approached herewith the utmost
care and cunning, wearing the guise of a friend, but striving to
instill his poison into her innocent heart.

But, thank heaven, she was faithful and true and his honeyed songs and
wiles had no effect. When she would tell me of his approaches, how I
would grind my teeth and clench my hands in fury, and long for the
time when I would wreak a just vengeance upon him. The time has come.
I found him worn and helpless from cold and hunger, but there was no
pity in my heart. I struck him down and reveled with heartfelt joy
when I saw him sink down, bathed in blood, and die by my hands. I do
not fear the consequences. When I tell my tale I will be upheld by
all.

He is dead and I am satisfied.

I think he is the largest and fattest mosquito I ever saw.
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