The Monster

Just the rough draft of some nonsense.

The truth hurts. Year after year I find myself in a new house, having no other intentions than just existing behind the scenes of life.

I do it for my family, I know that it may sound like it’s been said before, but in this case that’s what I am doing.

I am not an over achiever who wished to one day have a movie be made of my life, or a novel of my life, because that means that I failed . . . it means that they learned the truth.

It means that they know that my son plays with the monster.

Every night, I hear his shrieking laughter in the Midnight’s peak, I crawl down the stairs and into the living room where I lay; twisting and turning in troubled senses. I can’t bear to be near the monster, so I leave away from them, yet I let them play with my son " Am I a bad mother for that?

A mother knows, they say.

Only a mother’s instinct, they say.

Without warning the expectations that I had managed to conquer over and lock away have escaped; without any mercy they all fly around me, some screaming and others weeping in my ear; tearing down the walls that took years of construction, with the sole purpose to block my mind from feeling fear; fearlessness is bravery . . . right?

That was what I thought at the time, but then the monster started to come, and my son began to play; unconsciously pushing all of the humans away. And I began to back away, and found myself sleeping on the couch one day.

The night became longer and longer by the week, slowly it got longer by the day, until the nights began to feel eternal. A mother responds to a child’s tears, but how can I when I don’t know what his tears sound like?

My son laughs . . . my son plays with the monster.

My son knows that evil of the world and laughs at it, he encourages it " he plays with the monster.

Over and over again I lay down staring at the rooting ceiling, motionless throughout my mind-shattering thoughts, slowly becoming deaf to his laughter. But I can hear him, my eyes follow the sound of his foot prints running around the center of the room.

It was so sudden, the voices continuously trying to break into the last wall I had to become a part of me, as they were years before. As the last brick tumbled, they shot out to me, filling me with fear, doubt, inspiration, determination, anger, sorrow, and bravery.

I was going against the monster, I was going to get my son back.

The monster is our world, we all live in the monster " and I was going to fight against it, I was going to defeat it . . . I AM GOING TO SLAY THE MONSTER.

I raised myself to my feet, and found myself climbing each step until I made my way to the top, for the first time I could feel the blood racing through my veins, and the thoughts of all emotions soaring through my mind, but that only made me get to the door faster.

Without hesitation I swung the door open, and gasped. The air becoming thinner, and leaving me. I looked down, to see my son looking up at me; his face blank, and without care "the knife in his hand, and the monster crouched behind him. My first and last emotion was sadness, as my warm tear trickled down my cold and bloodless cheek, as I looked into the soul of what used to be my son, I was too late to save him from the blind hypnosis of world.

Life isn’t fair, that’s why it’s a monster.  

 

Author's Note

I hope you all enjoy,and if there is anything like things for better wording, or things that can be replaced,please leave a comment with your suggestion.
(Ignore grammar)

Reviews

[stanley]

i like your style of writing, pretty simple and great description of the every scene, but i find it hard to grasp the plot of the story, great story which needs a bit of work. i repeat your style of writing is unique

[Octavious]

Thanks so much, I guess I'll call them scribbles, I didn't' really know where this was going as a story :) But I agree there is a lot of work to be done on it still, thank you so much.

[Delmar Cooper]

I see you noted this was a "rough draft." Grammatical conventions aside, I congratulate you on the élan with which you charge into the horror genre. The story needs a lot of work to make it coherent and concise. The nature of the monster does not have to be precise, vague evil is more terrific than carved gargoyles, but it does need enough definition to let a reader feel the thrill of discovery. I hope to see a more completed version of this eerie tale. Thank you for sharing.

[Octavious]

Thank you for your honest, and I will attempt to edit it as soon as possible, again thank you and I am so glad that you enjoyed this piece of writing.