Chapter 1: What am I?

“What am I?” the words ring loud and clear in my mind. I stand in the middle of a forest, listening to the sounds of nature, the animals, the trees, the running water. “They all know what they are. A tree is a tree, a squirrel is a squirrel. They are what they were born as, and they always will be. I do not have such a luxury.” I have no permanent shape, my body a constantly shifting mass. A walking mass of flesh and wasted emotion. I was human once, I think. I can feel it somewhere buried in my memories, in a place I can no longer reach, locked away in my subconscious. But whatever, and whoever I was I am no more. I am Formless. And I have been for many years. I’ve no home, no family, and no money. I’ve nothing to my name save a stolen coat and hat, and an old memento from an old friend. I look down into the stream and see it reflected at me. A single circle of steel with three holes, two at the top and one at the bottom. My sorry excuse for a “face”. But still, I hold this mask closer to my heart more than anything else in this world. That is, if I knew where my heart was in this ever shifting mass that is my body.

“That’s enough standing around feeling sorry for myself I suppose.” I proclaim to no one. I continue down a path I’ve been traveling for the past few days. It seems to be an old hiking trail that was long since abandoned. My hope is that it will lead towards a town somewhere. As much as I dislike going into such areas, I still need to eat. People in towns never take lightly to monsters arriving at their doors, asking for scraps. That’s how I’ve always been received, as a monster, a freak. Maybe I am, I don’t know. It’s why I had to take these clothes. Though it felt wrong to just take them, I had no way of legitimately purchasing them, and I had to hide somehow. So I hide in plain sight. You would be surprised to see how many people don’t notice an obviously suspicious man in a trench coat. You’d think that would draw attention or suspicion, but most people are content to just go about their day, not caring who or what has just walked into town. And as this thought crosses my mind, I can hear the sounds of the city, just over the hill. Cars racing, people moving, life carrying on as if a five foot walking slime pile in a trench coat wasn’t about to waltz right in.

And that’s exactly what I did. I quickly joined the hustling crowds of the city, moving across busy streets and packed sidewalks. The smells of the city are overwhelming. That’s one problem about not having a face; my senses are spread through every inch of my body, all of them seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, and, unfortunately, tasting all at once. Though for its few faults, my senses have proved useful in defending myself in the more dangerous parts of the city. I can see and hear all around me, unlike humans whose sight is relegated to a rather small window; and whose hearing is mostly gone from loud music and pointless screaming.

I was jumped in an alley once, three large men with knives tried to attack me, hoping for money. “Gimmie your goddamn wallet!” the man in the middle had shouted. “I’m afraid I do not own one. Though I would suggest backing away before someone gets hurt.” The three men looked at each other and laughed, then turned back to me, knives poised to kill. Or so they thought. Without a second thought, I sent out three tendrils from the bottom of my coat and lifted them each into the air, dangling by one foot. “It isn’t nice to attack strangers, you know.” I said in a calm, matter-of-factly voice. Two of the men began screaming and crying, while the third just looked at me with fear and whispered “what…what the hell are you?!” I lifted my hat, revealing the mask beneath and said coldly, “I’ve been asking that question all my life.” with that, I threw the three crooks into the alley and watched them stumble away in fear.

Luckily that was the last time I’ve had to deal with that kind of thing in a long time. Now I shuffle through the crowded streets, unnoticed and unseen. I hate stealing, but I’ve come to resort to it many times, sneaking a small tendril into passing food carts or shops and dragging food into my coat. I hate the feeling, but I have to eat, and people don’t generally take kindly to monsters walking into their shops. I sigh to myself, “monster…there’s a word I’ve heard far too often.” I continue to walk down the streets as the crowds thin out, dissolving a stolen apple and thinking about my pitiful existence. That was when it happened, one simple event that would change my outlook on life, and define my entire existence.

Reviews

[BrynnaW.]

It's a very curious way of looking at things and a very different view. Something without shape can be molded into anything and it would be very scary to know something like this was walking among us. But you give it such feeling that I can't help but feel sorry for this 'thing.' You give it such a personality and at the beginning with it struggling to know what it is itself, your character becomes very relatable. Many people wonder themselves who they truly are and your character seems to bear that same aspect. Having a character like this will give you difficulty but I can see that a story like this has a lot of potential and endless possibilities. This point of view though is interesting and I am excited to watch how this develops as a book. I can see that this will be a unique story and I am happy to read on. :)