MONSTER

MONSTER

Moonlight evening, silver clear

and the night’s blue billows,

sparkling waves, numberless,

follow one another.

Shadows fall along the path,

on the shore the bushes softly weep,

black giants guard its silver in their keep.

Silence deep in summer’s midst,

sleep and dream, -

the moon glides out across the sea

white tender gleam.

- Edith Sodergran ‘NOCTURNE’

<< | Prologue | >>

                The monster was once human. It had legs. Arms. Hands. Feet. A torso. Nails. Hair. And if he bothered to get a better look, he was sure it had a face. A face he knew so well. He wondered if it had a soul or had one at all. He wouldn’t know. All that remained now was a bloody mess, a mere shadow of its former self. All that remained was the monster, a grotesque creature that had killed many and completely obliterated one soul. It had been cruel, unable to control itself. Whatever humanity the monster had left was long dead. It was probably never human to begin with. And yet, as if willing itself to scream otherwise, each of its abnormal features quivered. The claws pulled inward. The oversized jaws shortened. Its massive height shrunk. The excessive muscular structure on its legs and arms dissipated. Everything changed. The monster started to reshape and mold itself to resemble something human. Yes, it was once human. And now it was becoming human again.

But there lingered the wounds, the ghastly sight of devastation too deep to heal or overlook. The thick flow of crimson mixed with a murky silvery substance continued to seek outside refuge. There was so much of it that one could taste the metallic tang in the air. Pain’s fire was felt throughout its body. It was heard with each sound it made. Even when the monster was determined to become what it once was, it whimpered. It cried.

The group of people who surrounded the monster looked at it with curiosity, joy, and hate. They weren’t scared, not even when they saw the claws and teeth retract. If anything, there were some smiles all around the small crowd. They held their cameras and captured the extraordinary event. Even he was impressed. It wasn’t every day humans stepped up to take direct action. He expected these people to be dead when he heard the first gunshots fire. He still wondered how they did it. Perhaps it was sheer will, luck, perseverance, and ambition that led them to their victory.

He wanted to leave, to head back into his office and enjoy whatever was left of this night. Mainly, he wanted to forget the previous months that led to this event. Despite the thick concrete walls and steaming pipes that surrounded them, however, he felt the night outside. He imagined the moon staring wide-eyed at the scene, glowing brightly. The night must have had an empty and blank look on its face. He knew, then, he would never forget this summer night.

An inhale. Deep. Raspy. Weak.

There was still life in the monster. It still breathed. It still struggled to live, to exist. The humans were too startled to react. They thought they killed the monster. The wounds were fatal and there were plenty. Indeed, too many to count. And yet, they stared wide-eyed, at each other and at the monster. He took a step back into the long corridor he came from. Let them take care of it. Let them finish what they started. It was better that way. Every nerve in his body was tingling and he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He, too, was disappointed. That monster was supposed to be dead. Gone. That monster was supposed to find serenity in its death. But why? Why struggle to live? Why live to destroy?

Raspberry and nicotine. Those smells… Ah, yes. How he never wanted to smell them again. After tonight, he’d hold his breath and keep those odors at bay whenever he came across them. He was halfway down the hallway until his conscious stopped him, though. No. Not like this. Turn back. Roll the dice and take a chance. There’d be no closure otherwise. There’d be no peace. He had to be the one. Only he could release the monster from its misery. He was the hunter of all surreal creatures. He was the destructor of the damned. Through his madness, he brought salvation. Now there was one monster to free from its shell. Yes, he would be merciful. The monster deserved that much.

Walking through the small crowd, he got a better look at the creature. The body was slanted against a wall. The legs were sprawled across the floor while the arms settled over the stomach. Its head tilted downward, the monster wailed. Its sound was reduced to a human moan now. The monster was completely human. Every part of him was made into recognizable flesh, made into the image of man. A flood of memories opened.

Raspberry. Carebears. Cigarettes. A pink room. Molly Ringwald. A torn photo. The disillusioned dreamer. Mirrors. Black pearls.

The memories. So many.

Kneeling beside the monster, he took at his face, carefully taking in the details. There a strong urge to save and condemn the man he saw. He would do both right now. However, he noticed something and his heart skipped a beat. The monster… he smiled at him. His pitch black eyes stared intensely at him and the quivering lips arched upward. He almost smiled back at the monster. But he didn’t. Instead, he positioned his sword straight into his heart. The monster gasped during contact. He let the monster hold him while he drove the blade in. It went in cleanly, smoothly breaking through tissue and bones. The sound was a quiet shriek. It should’ve been painless. Yet, the monster kept fighting. The monster wanted to live. The hands clung tightly on his shoulder. He heard the monster trying to say something, coughing up only blood. With the monster’s fate already determined, he plunged the sword deeper, wanting to end his pain quickly. Salvation claimed the monster at last. It welcomed him with her cold arms and frigid kiss. The monster’s body grew limp and the impaled heart struggled to beat.

Thump-thump-thump-thump… thump-thump-thump… thump-thump… thump…… thump...…… thump………… … thump… … … … … … … thump… … … … … … … … …

And then there was nothing. He set him free. Eyes still opened, the monster slumped to the ground when he extracted his blade. He told himself many things as he looked at the lifeless body. Among them, he said he had been merciful and that he was no monster.