The Ballad of the Quoxe Killer

There is no crime in Quoxe

Poison is often a tool of our own tongues

My only poison is the drop of a bottle

But the city of Quoxe has poison its own

One glance at a capital camera

your face, thoughts, profile, foreseen forever

Yet one man exists, a killer, has evaded city grasp

They say he's monstrous and ghastly

A face that can transform in a second

Eyes that could suck a soul, one bright

one dark and tall and slender as tree bark

Passes from frames as a shadow, as a

lightning strike beneath a swift of clouds

I stated it all impossible, I designed the cameras.

But the calls added up with the bottles

The first call, when I left in a haste for my

medication. The doctor asking how my sleep

had been, and if recent killings had deprived

me further. "Killings? Of course not. There is no

crime in Quoxe."

The second call, at dusk, in a knock on my door,

an officer reporting two bodies, but when I

checked the footage in the small of my home,

nothing. A slight blackening, so split you could

miss it, then a body. Two. Three.

I was called into city counsel, gave my reports.

"It's an error on his part!"

"Suicides, they are! There's no crime in Quoxe!"

Indeed, there was no crime in Quoxe.

But there indeed was a killer amongst the high ranks.

"Gentlement, your attention," I stated with a grunt,

"My technology is perfect. And in Quoxe there is no crime.

But I will investigate to ease your consciouses."

I went first to the house of crime, where the bodies

were identified.

Alice Jenson

Carrie Ply

Stuart Ty

All employees of the council, humble servants of the lords

Alice Jenson was my scretary, responsible for

upkeep and small favors, she one proposed to me

Carrie Play was the janitor, she once locked

me in my office by mistake, then proposed to me

Stuart Ty was my assistant, often inquiring about

advanced payments and promotional opportunities

A moment I left, back to city counsel,

I pulled out of my bag, a small mask, looked like another

I returned to the council, another human entirely.

"I am Detective Narwal. I am investigating the three murders

committed by the designated Quoxe killer."

My suspisions fell to the council, six members who

for privacy's sake I must simply call by number.

One told me that there was no crime.

Two pulled off my mask.

Three called for the guards.

Four stipped me down.

Five escorted me out.

Six revoked my title.

They say he's human but uneasy

A face that can transform in a second

Eyes that have never slept,

dark bags slender as tree bark

Passes from frames as a shadow, as a

lightning strike beneath a swift of clouds

The next day the camera mysteriously collapsed

A technical error, no doubt

And another face appeared

And suddenly, dead

One, two, three, four, five, six.

The mirror provides hints,

every now and then. No drops

from the bottles. No lights or

detectives. No council, no promotion

no proposals, just the gouge of loneliness

Fortunately, I have nothing to fear

The footage is missing, engrained in my mind

There is no crime in Quoxe.