There is something incredibly satisfying in plotting the death of one’s own character. Whether it is a major one or a minor one, nothing can add to or diminish those gleeful thoughts of their demise. Knowing that you will not only plan their death, but meticulously carry it out and get away with it is a heady draught indeed. This godlike power is better than any substance that has yet been created.
Even if the poor wretch does happen to become aware of your intentions, it does not matter. Not even the panicked breathing of the Muse whose life you are about to snuff out, or the shrill, raised voice that threatens to splinter glass when his or her other headmates begin whispering about what is afoot can dissuade you. Soon, they will no longer inhabit the space. All the while, measurements are being taken for the character’s coffin (if they are allowed one) and other shadowy, less fleshed out characters wait in the shadows of your cranium,. They watch from the sidelines like ghouls and demons in the dark recesses of the Underworld.
My mind reels at the possibilities of it all!