Personal Narrative Essay: The Murderer

There were seven little soldier boys left on my island, and one of them came dangerously close to revealing me, that I was the murderer. I decided to throw out all of the logs so new lumber would have to be chopped down for the fire. Originally I planned to sneak up behind him and taking him out while he chopped, but they decided to have one person chopping while the other five watched out for a murderer. I decided to pretend like I was asleep while they were doing chores, so no one would suspect foul play. I knew the only time I could possibly catch him alone was when he inevitably went to the restroom. I hid in the closet and waited with a view of who was coming in, waiting to ambush my victim. I hid with a hatchet for hours, waiting. Right
But I did not, as I would have had to kill him too, and that would have been too much effort for one day. Then I knew I had to get cleaned up so no one suspected me or any foul play. As the others tried to figure out what had happened, I cleaned up quietly. I decided to burn my clothes and any evidence in the newly lit fireplace on the freshly cut wood, wash the chloroform from my hands, and hide the bottle and rag in the butler’s pantry to frame him.
I got dressed and went downstairs to join the others and asked what was going on. They told me how they were chopping down trees for firewood and my victim had hit his head and impaled himself on his hatchet when he went to the restroom. I began to think about why I murdered him. He had gotten too close to finding out that I was the killer. He knew how to analyze fingerprints and perform tests on the pieces of evidence. I had started being even more skillful at hiding evidence since he revealed this skill, perhaps I should have thanked him. Oh well, too
He talked too much, bragged about himself, how strong he was, how smart he was. It was endless, so it was not that terrible of a loss. He was a bright one though, it was fun to try and deceive him, it kept me on my toes. He almost lucked into figuring out I was the murderer. We were celebrating, happy that this ordeal was over and that we figured out who was the murderer. After dinner, one created a concoction made with honey for dessert. That gave me an idea for my next murder. Who would blame a sweet little honey bee for a murder? My plan was shaping up