“Pay heed to the tales of old wives. It may well be that they alone keep in memory what it was once useful for the wise to know.” J.R.R. Tolkien

I like this advice, anyway, because I’m a literal murderer. Literary murderer? I like violence. Sometimes, it’s the only way to solve things. I’m the “kill them all” audience member. Adages like this one are described everywhere. I’m surprised we don’t start saying “Kill Your Dumbledore.”

Some apply this to three categories, a principle Character, Prose, or Extemporaneous…anything. Basically, if you appear to love it, kill it.

So, instead of getting philosophical about Darlings and Their Imminent Death in vague terms, it’s glaringly obvious, and going to be unpopular to swallow, in three ways.

I had to explain the term “jump the shark” to people at work. I hate it when people with doctorates don’t understand time-worn phrases, like they were too busy being “money” with education to bother with trivialities like television and its inherent dogmatic references. I digress.

So, let me stab at the first head of Cerberus. Supernatural and it’s very naturally obvious ending. Way back in Season Five. It’s not even that I’m not enjoying the Neverending Story. But with each season renewal, I wonder, aren’t we running a little low on lore? Even just talking Sam and Dean, these are two actors who have given the prime of their youth to this series. And while they may be hitting the stereotypical male prime age in Hollywood, nevertheless, they have been otherwise committed to Supernatural. Doubtless, this has afforded them not only a way to explore their craft, but has given them the financial security to pursue projects that will appeal to them, not just their wallets. I’d like to think that fans are to the point where they would like to see all the actors, and, ahem, writers, involved try on something new. Kill the Darling. And needs must when the Devil drives, as they say. In this case, into many a shattered heart.

Jurassic Primal Rage. Remember that game, Primal Rage? The Mortal Kombat Dinosaur game. Loved that! The first, iconic, Jurassic Park movie is legendary. A rite of passage for people to show their kids. The second one is a little too matter-of-fact about poaching and exploitation. A point that I hope has changed minds through entertainment. The third one, Jurassic Park…III…really just gave us Dr. Grant back. And the badass Primal Rage fight between T-Rex and Spinosaurus. However…we now have Jurassic World. Oh, me likey. Still a pro-animal, anti-exploitation message, this time bigger and with smart phones, with a little hint of man’s cooperation with nature over domination. But that is for another time. The whole time I’m in the theater, I’m thinking, this has to be an epic battle coming. The Boss Battle. What is going to happen? What can they possibly do to impress me? I like to call the end scene the “Dinosaur Fight Orgy,” for the sheer number of animals that are involved. I’d like to reflect on Bryce Dallas Howard’s lovely Fay Wray, by the way. Her acting, the costuming, the staging of effects, all of that pulled off to invoke a symbolic cultural image, is a reminder of just how many people are behind a movie. My “heart of the 13 year old boy” was delighted by the ending. So, now they are making another. And I’m asking again, what’s going to happen? What can they possibly do to impress me? Kill the Darling, please. Don’t let it destroy itself from within. Of course I’ll go see Jurassic World II, are you crazy?

I saved my most unpopular for last. The Third Head of Cerberus that has drug a whole series down with it.

Kill Daryl Dixon.

I don’t want him to die. No one does. But it’s the Zombie Apocalypse, not the Zombie Tea Party, or Zombie Sleepover. It’s almost like the writers know that they will lose the show when he dies. Should anyone survive? I’m not sure. Can anyone? I don’t know. But the social decay experiment that made me love the show in the first few seasons has devolved into jump scares for Daryl’s life. It’s taking away from the achievements of other core characters. People wonder why Rick has gone to extremes in character in the past two seasons. The written character has had to keep up with The Walking Daryl. Letting him take over the series has now become like a grown over blister, protecting and pandering fans into spoiled viewers that treat the show like a commodity, rather than a whole with an evolving cast. Either the show will die, eaten by the shark it has jumped, or it will die with Daryl. This is why he should have died with Merle at Woodbury. Or died at the hands of zombie Merle. Or disappeared for seasons on end, like Morgan. Morgan, who endeared us so with his struggle by just a few glances into his life. He’s evolved on his own and feels organic to the storyline.

Daryl Dixon Must Die.

Sad. But true.

This is a hard decision for writers to make. Who to kill, when to kill, why. And while many jokes are made about “be careful what you say to me, I will kill you in my novel,” or some such nonsense, I always thought my decision to kill was of the highest intimacy. I have had you in my life, thought about you, made others love you, and now for the sake of breaking to rebuild, for the deeper drive my character needs to survive, for the love I bear thee, you must die. Become deified and immortal in reshaping the entire story and everyone in it.

That’s why you kill your darlings. Alchemize the catalyst. Grind their bones to dust, and with their blood and it make a paste to choke the innocence out of the Main Character.

No one gets to a natural end of any story unscathed. Rather, we get there bitterly triumphant. Or not at all.