Klik hier om dit verhaal in het Nederlands te lezen.
I am not a bad person. Those who learn what happened at the Welcome family’s house often think differently but did not witness the facts themselves. I use the word ‘facts’ very consciously here, because that is what they are. Anyone who learns only afterwards from an indirect source what has allegedly happened, will inevitably be presented with a subjective story, tainted by a prejudiced narrator who, consciously or unconsciously, withholds essential information or, on the contrary, adds utter nonsense based on lies. That is why it is important that you read a truthful report of the facts that is not contaminated by the vulgarity of journalistic opinion, which has been sullying the credibility of the national press for weeks and, at the same time, smearing my name. I promise you that, as an eyewitness to the facts, I will tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. My version of the story is by far the most reliable, since the only other two witnesses are children, whose minds are incredibly malleable and cannot possibly understand that morality, given the right circumstances, can be particularly relative and contradictory. I therefore warmly invite you to read this objective, unfiltered account of the events that took place at the Welcomes’ house with an open mind, critical where necessary, but also willing to take a different viewpoint from your own, or from what has long been rammed down your throat by the press and the public opinion. Only in this way can you understand what has occurred, how everything went down and, above all, why the facts needed to happen in the way that they did.
From a very young age, I felt that I had a more important role to fulfil in this world than that of your regular city boy who went to work every day to earn just enough money so that his wife and children would not starve to death. No, I was never one to follow the masses and always did the exact opposite of what society expected me to do. So when I became of age, I did not immediately look for a job, nor did I look for a woman with whom I would have to rot away in a ridiculously tiny house for the rest of my days, and who would give birth to a child that, as a baby, would keep bothering me with its constant shouting, drooling and strangely coloured excrement, and would bore me in the following years with meaningless stories about cartoon characters and its third favourite dinosaur species. No, such a meaningless life was not for me. I had a greater purpose. My existence on this earth had to genuinely mean something. I did not know exactly what that greater purpose was, but I did have it. And I had plenty of time to figure it all out when I left my parents’ house on my eighteenth birthday, wandering across the countryside in search of my place in the world. Living independently without luxury and financial recourses was more challenging than I had initially thought. Nuts and fruits I found in the forest did not suffice for me to consume the required number of calories a day, and whenever I encountered a restaurant on my trip, the owners were usually not too keen on offering their leftovers to a vagabond like myself, no matter how starved I may have looked. As such, it did not take long before my energy was significantly reduced and I could walk only with great difficulty. I refused to give up, however. I was determined to keep looking for my purpose, which I would certainly not find in my hometown. Of that I was certain. One evening I lay down almost completely emaciated on the grass on the edge of a forest. On the other side of the street was a house with a sign above the front door on which the name ‘Newland’ was painted. The name of the house just had to be a sign that I was on the right track. New land represents hope, a bright future full of new possibilities. But no one seemed to be home. Shivering from the cold and exhausted, I fell asleep there, right across from house Newland. Had I arrived at the house a day later, I probably would not have made it to the next day. But that is not what had happened. I had got there just in time to be saved from starvation when the residents of house Newland, the Welcome family, worriedly took me into the house the next morning. It simply could not be a coincidence. For me, it was proof that I would find my life purpose there. I willingly stepped into the house under the arms of the master and the lady of the house. When they were about to call me an ambulance, I stopped them and explained to them why I looked so miserable. I told them about my search for my life purpose and that I was bound to find it in their house. They listened eagerly and immediately offered me a bed. They allowed me to stay as long as I needed to. Their hospitality, though admirable, made them appear incredibly naive. Especially when you consider that they had two children. Who in their right mind would bring a stranger into the house without checking his background first, especially with two vulnerable children nearby? Their naivety probably implied a low IQ. But what Mrs Welcome lacked intelligence, she had in abundance of beauty: her light grey eyes contrasted beautifully with her dark hair, her full lips suggested that she was a great kisser and her voluptuous body invited any healthy man to grope it from all sides. Her husband could seemingly compensate his low IQ with his muscle power and his talent as a hunter. He knew like no other how to sneak up on wild animals in the forest opposite the house and shoot them when they did not expect it. He did not care much about the fact that he sometimes killed a female standing right next to her young. Even when a shot was not fatal, any concerns about the well-being of his target were largely absent. He usually took his sweet time to approach a wounded animal that was visibly and audibly suffering, before finally slitting its throat. In doing so, the beast had to suffer longer than when he shot it a second time to put it out of its misery, but another gunshot would make the other animals nearby flee further away, which would mean a less lucrative hunt. Mr Welcome may have been physically privileged, but due to his intellectual incompetence his moral compass was flawed, to say the least. Those who are as naive as the Welcomes may argue that the master of the house was in fact intelligent, since he always knew perfectly how to approach his prey. However, those who know better realise that his apparent cunning is but a very primitive thing, something savage that every creature develops when it is too far away from the civilised world. The animal heads that hung on the walls like trophies at House Newland also alluded to a lack of morality. Hunting was not merely a source of food to the Welcomes, but it was also a hobby. They took pride in the number of animals that fell victim to them on a daily basis and hung body parts of their preys as showpieces. It had something reprehensible, something barbaric to it. It was clear to me from day one that the Welcome family was different. Inferior, even. But as long as I had not found my purpose in life, I had to stay at house Newland. Mr and Mrs Welcome eventually began to see me as part of the family and taught me how to survive on my own, so that I would never again have to find myself in the same situation as on the day that they found me lying across from the house. Mr Welcome taught me how to hunt and Mrs Welcome gave me free cooking lessons, teaching me which wild mushrooms were edible and which were not. He showed me how to fix things in the house, she made sure I knew how to clean the house and do laundry. He showed me how to grow certain plants in their kitchen garden, she explained to me how to sew up holes in my clothes. Well, they always taught me a sloppy basic technique, which I consistently perfected over time. After a few months I had learnt how to take care of myself. However, my search for my life purpose remained fruitless. Until their two children unconsciously made me come to a realisation. Since am not particularly fond of children, I avoided those two half-grown creatures as much as possible. In the end, however, contact with them inevitably became more frequent, and over time they both fell seriously ill. Apparently, I had given them a germ that I was not aware I had. They had been lying dead sick in their beds for days, while to me the disease only felt like a mild flu. They survived the disease, but I did wonder why the germ had such a significant impact on those children, whereas it barely affected me. And then I had an epiphany. The disease was a warning. The germ had only had a small effect on me because I was superior. My intellectual capacities had allowed me to develop a more sophisticated way of life than the Welcome family’s, making me healthier, stronger and more resilient. The children lived like their parents and were therefore weaker, both intellectually and physically. It was my duty to change that. I had to raise others to my level so that they would live a better life, spread my way of life, and help build a better world. That was my purpose, and I had to work on it as quickly as possible. I knew it was too late for Mr and Mrs Welcome: they refused to adopt my better way of life and continued to do everything in their own, inefficient way. The children copied that behaviour, because that is what children do. If I wanted them to live like me, I had to permanently keep them away from their parents. The children would eventually understand why that was necessary. Their parents were a bad influence that had to be eliminated. They were not even worth living in House Newland. It was such a beautiful home, which they had ruined on the inside with carcasses and tasteless furnishing. So, their lack of intelligence clearly showed in their ill-considered interior as well. They were not deserving of living in such a beautiful house if they were not able to fully exploit its potential. But I was. I did deserve to live there. I had faced starvation, recovered from it and even came out stronger. What had they ever achieved in their lives? House Newland belonged to me, and the Welcomes were standing in my way. So, they left me with no choice but to eradicate them. When I went hunting with Mr Welcome for the last time and we shot a hare, I walked towards him with my arms wide open to give him a hug. During our embrace, I took his knife out of his pocket and planted it in his back, between his ribs. When I came home without her husband, I told Mrs Welcome that he had gone after a deer that he insisted on catching and that he had told us to start dinner without him. I suggested making the soup all by myself, which I secretly prepared using all the poisonous mushrooms I could find on my way back from the forest. Obviously, I only gave a bowl to Mrs Welcome, who eagerly slurped every last drop of it. A little while later, she lay low on the sofa and closed her eyes forever. I told the children that she had simply fallen asleep. In the meantime, I removed all the ugly animal skins and hunting trophies from the house and replaced them with an interior that showed intellect and sophistication. I gave the facade a fresh layer of white paint and flipped the sign with Newland written on it, and on the back I painted the new name of the house: the White House.
So as you can see, the facts are completely different from what the press would have you believe. Yes, I killed two people, but it was not pointless or without reason. I did that because it was my moral duty. I have the heavy responsibility to help others live a better life, and in doing so, to create a better world. That is my calling. I did not choose it myself, but I will do everything in my power to fulfil my role in the new world, even if it requires human lives, for it is my manifest destiny.