"Monsters"

Based on Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein," this was an assignment for my literature class; to write a story from the creature's perspective of Frankenstein.

 

Prologue

“C-cold? Ba-ck? Ab-e?” he thought. He had heard these hollow words only once; two beings with long booming sticks were wandering the forest when he heard it.

“It’s cold, let’s head back, Abe.” What did these words mean? What were the beings speaking of? He tried to understand what it all meant and why he couldn’t speak like the two loud men, but no answer he thought of seemed right. He kept forward; into the moss lined forests of Geneva where he could be alone to try and understand.

                                   *

The wind dug through the creature’s rigid skin, gliding through each of his crackling bones. The glowing white orb that shone greatly against the blackness cast a dim path of light for the creature to follow. Where he was going, he was unsure. Anywhere would have been better than back at that dungeon he was born from. 

He heard a noise; a loud howling of sorts that seemed to echo in the wind. The wind draped poisonously around his battered body, the sky had lost its color and was sunken into a dark permanence, the creature believed, and now someone"something was following closely behind.

The creature approached the base of a hill, barren of trees and jagged shrubs. Atop the hill sat a cottage with one faint candle burning within it. He tried to call for help but all he could muster was a vicious scream that shook the birds from nearby pines. He screamed and screamed until his teeth, as bronze and crooked as they were, were possessed by the bitter wind. He screamed again but this instance was due to pain; his teeth seemed to vibrate in his mouth as the cold rattled them.

His shouts proved futile; the glow of the distant candle abruptly died and the cabin faded into the blur of the darkness. Fearing the monsters trailing him and the ghostly calls of the wind, the creature ran to a grove of mighty pines just a few stomps away. The grove appeared to have been home to something else, as it was lined with sticks and broken leaves but was now empty of life. Within the grove he went, barely cradled between four trees. He wrapped his arms around his veiny legs yet he still wasn’t comfortable. 

As he tried to find peace in the awkward space of trees, the wind growled with the howls of the mysterious beasts. The creature wondered if he had truly been reborn by his Creator, or if he had previously died and reawakened in Hell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following day. . .

A narrow fog crept into the grove, seeping its way along the creature’s legs and wrapping tightly around his sleeping body. The creature awoke with a startle; his eyes, matching the color of his teeth, bolted open and he let out a bellow that seemed to shake the ground beneath him. He dreamt of his birth room; the radiance of light that struck the sky and caused him to awaken. He remembered the daze he awoke to: the sounds of his creator beckoning with hysteria, the whirring of machines and the smoke dispensing from them, the surge of pain he felt as he flickered into consciousness.

The dream had felt more real than the moment itself; and this frightened him. Without realizing what he was doing, the creature wept with agony. He stared at the tears he wiped from his austere skin; “What was this? What am I feeling?” He thought. His stomach then rumbled as he continued to sob.

He removed himself from the grove and reappeared at the edge of the forest; the cabin was still lurking at the hilltop, no candle flames lit in the windows. The creature was overwhelmed with a cat-like curiosity, he was also hungry, his skin felt raw like butchered meat from being in the cold all night, and he had slept roughly against the bark of the trees. Within a few paces, the creature stood at the cabin’s front door. The creature was taller than the door itself and could almost see over top the cabin’s low roof. With a swift force of his fist, he punched the door in, revealing the innards of the cabin.

The shack was dimly lit; the faint glow of the sun shone upon certain corners while other walls and corners remained draped in shadows. The one room consisted of a furnace glowing with heat, a wooden bed that seemed too short for a man and even tinier for the monster. A hand-crafted rug separated the monster’s feet and the chill of the planked floor, and a draft from outside carried itself strongly through the only window in the cabin; the same window that the candle sat upon the previous night. The window was hardly an appropriate name, as it was only a square-shaped cavity void of glass or frame. Hanging above the “window” was a tattered curtain bouncing against the breeze; it too seemed purposeless.

The creature stalked within the cabin, and his head collided with the ceiling causing an arduous grunt. Sadly, the height of the cabin had not proved appropriate for someone of the creature’s size. There was not much room for the creature to move around; he could touch two of the four walls just by out-stretching his arms and gracing them with his fingers. He was too tall to stand comfortably, and he almost could feel the wooden planks give in under his weight. He turned to leave, feeling uncomfortable and out-of-place; as he did anywhere he went, and standing in the frame of the dismantled door was a creature concealed by the shadows of the cabin.

*

The silhouetted being, only half the size of the door frame, frightened the creature, and he let out a short gasp as his body shook with panic.

“What are you?” Spoke the darkened beast.

The creature was scared and could only respond with what he remembered.

“C-cold,” he uttered.

“Are you a man or a monster?” The beast spoke again, its voice deep as an undersea trench.

“Man?” The creature copied the words of the beast; he thought that appeasing it would mean leaving unharmed.

“But you are tall"like a tree or a great mountain. Taller than any man I know"or knew.” The beast stepped towards the frightened creature, his arms extended, perhaps to grab a weapon.

“Tall?” As tall as the creature may have been, he felt small in that moment.

“Who are you?” The beast stepped into a curtain of light, revealing itself to be a man, a shorter man than the creature had ever seen before. Was he a child with a man’s voice? The creature remained clueless.

“Man. Tall?” The creature was guarded as the tiny man skulked towards him.

“You look scared,” the man noticed, “you have been shunned from them too?”

“T-them?” A flurry of chills sailed through the hole where the door had been, causing the creature to wince with dread.

“The villagers down the hill,” the man explained, pointing out the door, “they call me the ‘Baby Man,’ but I am who I was born as, that I cannot control.” The man realized the intensity of the creature’s face; his pupils massive and the presence of grooves along his arms.

 “You do not have to worry,” the man rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, “I am not going to hurt you, but the idea that I scare you does frighten me.” He laughed as he sat on a creaking wooden stool adjacent to the furnace. He reached into a leather satchel lying under the stool and grabbed two wedges of coal with his battered hands.

“Scare?” The creature slowly relaxed; he lost the chill that possessed his spine and stared at the small man, dazed.

“No, you do not scare me. I’m not scared easily, especially of people. We should be afraid of what is outside not what is in our own home.” He again pointed to the village as he threw the coal into the furnace.

The creature continued to stare.

“I apologize; you do not seem to understand a word of what I’m saying. Is my tongue foreign to you?”

The creature remained silent.

“Let me teach you some words, my friend. The world is fierce without words.” He offered the creature a seat on the floor with a gesture, and the creature carefully sat down, hoping he wouldn’t fall through the thin floor boards.

“My name is Cephas. Can you say that? Ce-phas?”

The creature tried to understand and pronounce the strange word.

“Ce-phas,” he spoke.

“Good,” Cephas patted the creature on the shoulder, but he learned it was a mistake to do so. Once his sweaty palm touched the creature’s shoulder, the creature flew up from his spot on the floor and howled with a confused rage.
While most others would have ran or called the creature names, Cephas spoke warmly to the creature, trying to calm him.

“It’s alright, my friend. I see you are still not fond of people.” He gestured for the creature to sit down again as his voice, although low and with a devious accent of sorts, had a soothing tone to it. The creature hastily sat down again, keeping an eye on the small man.

“I promise you are safe here. I will not hurt you. We are outcasts, driven away with shouts and insults like we are demons or cave dwellers. But listen to me, my friend; we are people just like them.”

 Cephas’ finger was pointing down the hill before he even stopped to breathe, like it was an instinct.

“We are humans too. We are just different.”
The creature thought about everything he just heard; the words raced around in his brain trying to make sense to him. He saw this man, this small man with a stubbed chin, oak colored eyes, and an untamed mop of hair; yet he was still a man. A friend.

“Hu-human,” he echoed.

 

Three weeks later. . .

“Cephas. Fire. Dead.” The creature spoke in broken sentences and choppy words but could speak nonetheless. He sat in front of the furnace warming his hands, watching the final flicker of flames fade into dust.

“Throw some more paper or sticks in there; it’s going to be a cold night.” Cephas sat on his hay bed sewing together a scarf made of thrown away from fabrics from the wealthy. 

The creature grabbed sticks from a pile, in which he had been in charge of collecting each day, and tossed them onto the last glimmer of fire. In the time that the creature had been staying with Cephas, he helped him fix the door, put a block in the window gap to keep out the bitter winds at night, and had a fire going each night now. He relied on the creature to get through each night, and the creature relied equally on him.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Cephas released the needles from his hand, “I’ve been calling you ‘friend,’ ‘man,’ ‘friend,’ again, but I never asked your name. I assume though that you do not have one. Would you like a name, friend?”

The creature thought about it; a name? For me?

 He smiled.

“Good then. How about. . .,” Cephas tapped his chin with his thumb as he tried to think of a name, “How about Alexander? My uncle’s names it was; the only one within my family to ever treat me as a human.” Cephas seemed bitter as he spoke of his family, and the creature could easily see that he was still angry at them, angry for making him live out in the woods alone.

“Who needs family? Who needs those damned villagers anyway, right?” Cephas chuckled but the malice hid, deeply, within his words.

“Hungry,” the creature announced.

Cephas stepped off his bed and stretched, “Yes, dinner. I’ll get some vegetables from the garden and you go to the stream for water.”

“Stream. Water.” The creature reiterated. With a few paces, he stepped outside into the dusk skies. It felt good to move again, as he felt cramped and packed inside the cabin.

The stream was down the hill; into the more dense area of the forest where light could scarcely shine through. For the first time since his Creator rejected him, he felt happy; an emotion he couldn’t quite grasp yet. He had a friend, someone who seemed to care about him, and a place to live, and although sleeping on the floor of the narrow cabin wasn’t too cozy, he didn’t bother to think about it.

He approached the stream with a brown pale and filled it to the brim with fresh water, it may not have been clean water, but it was all they had. He was beginning to head back to the cabin when he heard a rustle from the opposite side of the stream.

“Hello. Something there?” The creature called out, his monstrously fierce voice echoing through the trees.

“H-hello?” A tiny voice called out from behind a bush, it was squeaky and sharp like a mouse.

“I am friend. Do not cry.” The creature saw movement behind the shrub.

A face of a child peered over the bush, its pale glow beamed with youth. 

“Friend?” The child called out, carefully coming out from behind the shrub.

“You are child,” the creature said, smilingly uncomfortably at the small child.

“I-I’m Gretchen, w-who are you?” The girl had a long curtain of dark hair falling from her skull. She spoke softly and with a ghostly tone, and her skin was as flushed as the other villagers the creature had seen before.

“You from village?” The creature asked, gesturing to the opposite side of the hill.

“Yes,” Gretchen remarked, her shyness fading with each step she took towards the creature, “I was playing with my big sister in the woods, and then I got lost.”

The creature, although like a monument to the little girl, seemed to mesmerize her with his openness and amity.

“I help. Follow.” The creature motioned for Gretchen to follow and she did just that. He walked her around the hill while staying concealed within the thick expanse of trees. He asked her about the village and what life was like there, to which she responded modestly and with a sense of boredom from her life. Although life in a society seemed like fantasy to the banished creature, he was fascinated by how groups of people worked and lived together, and at night he often dreamt of mixing in with others without fear of ostracism. He hoped to, someday, live among others and be seen as one of their own, not as a monster. 

A dirt path separated the condensed wood with the village just out of sigh; the creature often walked the path each day to peek into the lives of the villagers he remained envious of. His prints had now become molds in the dirt.

The creature explained to Gretchen to follow the path straight to the village, and she would be home within minutes. She stared down the path and could see trees and shrubbery blocking parts of it, and she also was in fear of rabid animals or thieves who might hurt her.

“Can you walk me to the village?” She asked, concern dripping from her words.

“I cannot.” The creature responded, flatly.

“Why?”

“The villagers. Scared. Hurt me.” The creature wept but his envy still hid within him.

“They won’t hurt you. Some of them are really nice, especially the Baker, he made me a--”

“Leave!” He wailed, challenging the roar of thunder. He turned away from the child to signify her departure. She stared at his back with a curious grace, until she finally ran.

As the creature wiped the tears off his lips, he looked back towards the path, hoping that she might be looking back at him too.

*

“Where have you been?” Cephas asked, peeling small potatoes into a rusty pot.

“A child. Lost. Helped her.” The creature tried to explain the story but could only manage a few words; he placed his pale of river water on the stool beside the furnace and sluggishly sat down on the floor.

“A child? From the village?” He dropped the half-peeled potato.

“Yes.”

“You helped her get back to those b******s?” Cephas spit onto the floor as he spoke of the villagers.

“I did.” The creature had no hate for the girl, he only wanted to help return her to her home at the bottom of the hill.

“Next time you see one of those snotty brats, bring ‘em up to the cabin, we’ll show those damned people not to let their children wander alone in the woods,” he laughed slyly as he struck a potato with a small dagger.

“What you do?” The creature asked, confused at Cephas’s words.

“I’m peeling potatoes for dinner, of course.” Another slice with the dagger.

“No. To children.”

“What would I do to those kids?” A third slash.

“Yes.”

Cephas propped his legs up onto his bed as he laid back.

“I’d make sure those parents would remember, that’s all.” He threw the skinned potato into the pot with little care for grace.

“That sounds. . .,” the creature tried to pick the most accurate word, “cruel.”

“Cruel?” Cephas looked firmly into the creature’s eyes. “It was cruel that they threw me away because I was a joke to them all. It was cruel when they locked me out of the village after they had their fun with me.”

He gripped his dagger.

“Was it cruel when they were scared of you and tried to kill you?”
The creature pondered the question, “Yes.”

“We are not monsters, just remember that, my friend. We are not the monsters.” He placed his dagger, a small kitchen one, almost dull, with a wooden handle, under his pillow.
“Now let’s have supper,” he added.

 

 

 

 

Dusk, two day later. . .

“I think our meal will be quite pleasant tonight,” Cephas said, skinning the fur off of a blood soaked rabbit.

“Why kill animals?” The creature asked, sitting on the floor of the dank cabin.

“For meat, my friend, for meat.” His hands were dried and callused from working in the garden all day, albeit the failing garden, but now his hands were painted with the blood of carcasses.

“They are not cruel.” The creature watched the detachment of the fur with hesitation.

“No, but they are animals. And we need meat to live, my friend. We’ve been over this before.” Cephas threw the hollow fur onto the cabin fur as he prepped the pink body for supper.

“I will get water,” the creature stated, wanting to leave the butchering.
“Alright, just be back before sundown, no wandering.” He cut off the rabbit’s head with one strike of his clever.

            The sun was slowly sinking into the horizon, splashes of soft yellows and peach pinks flooded the sky like a canvas. A warm breeze tickled the creature’s bare arms and legs as he exited the cabin. He grabbed his pale from beside the door and sauntered to the stream below. He thought about the death of the rabbit; he didn’t want to throw a spear through its heart but Cephas said they needed food, as the garden wasn’t providing much. An ounce of guilt in his stomach made the creature feel uneasy. Upon reaching the river, he splashed his unsightly face with water, the chill of it causing him to twitch.

A voice called to the creature. “H-hello?”

He turned with a quick jolt, like a spider had crawled across his arm. There, behind a wide pine stood Gretchen, her long hair now in a bun.

“You!” The creature was caught by surprise.

“I wanted to visit you again.” She stepped towards the creature, her tiny feet crunching fallen leaves.

“Visit. Me?” The creature tried to wrap his mind around the idea.
“You live out here alone, by yourself. Like my brother.” She stood directly before the creature, he felt horribly large compared to her, like one of the trees.

“Br-other?” The creature took a step towards the girl, smiling at her warmth.

“My brother lives in the mountains all alone. I miss him.” Gretchen turned away and stared into the columns of light traversing through the gaps of the trees.

The creature kneeled down and met her eye level, his yellow eyes hazy and his breath rotten.

“Thank you,” he said.

From upon the hill came a shout; Cephas was hollering, telling the creature to return as dinner was ready. The creature jumped at the sound of Cephas’ voice echoing across the valley, he remember what Cephas had said a few nights before about seeing any more children.

“You eat dinner. I talk to friend. Follow.” His words were jumbled but Gretchen seemed to understand; together they walked to the top of the hill where the crooked cabin sat. The creature warned Gretchen to stay outside until he convinced Cephas to let the girl join them for dinner.

He entered the cabin with a smile and his bucket of gray water from the stream, Cephas sat on his stool with his plate of potatoes and rabbit, the smoke rising from the rabbit’s cooked flesh.

“You seem awfully happy,” Cephas said, biting into his rabbit leg.

“Cephas. I have friend.” He moved closer to Cephas, his arms shaking from excitement.

“Yes, we are friends, now sit down and eat.”

“No. Other friend.”

Cephas raised an eyebrow, holding his rabbit leg firmly with his jagged fingers.

“Other friend? Who?”

The creature gestured outside, hoping for a gentle reaction.

“From village. Little child.” He walked to the door and called for her to enter.

Gretchen walked into the cabin with a youthful sense of naiveté. She held her hands together and smiled as she approached Cephas, her hair streaming down her back as it contrasted with the sunset’s golden cast.

Cephas’ jaw hung loose as Gretchen entered, he stared at her like he had never seen a child before like she was a monster from a fairy tale. His rabbit leg fell from his grasp and onto the dusty floor as he gawked at the girl.

“Who is she,” he mumbled.

“Gretchen,” the creature stated, patting her back as she stood there graciously.

“Well,” Cephas began, “You have made her your friend?” He stuttered as he spoke, wrestling each syllable with his tongue.

“Friends.”

Cephas laughed to himself and smiled, pondering the conversation, almost like he was weighing an idea. “Alright,” he said, “she can join us for dinner.”

The creature smiled almost as brightly as Gretchen as the two of them sat on the floor, eagerly awaiting their supper. Cephas grabbed another wooden plate from his shelf along the wall and cut Gretchen a piece of the rabbit, and a harsh silence drowned out any noise. 

“After dinner she must leave, if the villagers find that she is missing the first thing they will do is look at me--us.” He sat back down onto his stool as he tried to regain his appetite, glancing at Gretchen with a smirk.

“Gretchen. Eat,” the creature said, holding the plate up to his mouth.

“Did you live in the village?” Gretchen asked, looking curiously at Cephas.

He frowned, “I used to, I do not any longer.”

Gretchen took a bite of her sliver of rabbit as she continued to gape obsessively at Cephas, her pupils widening with each question she asked.

“Everyone used to talk about a dwarf man who ate babies and was run out of the village, was that you?” She asked.

Cephas’ patience seemed to be thinning, but the creature was joyfully devouring his dinner, pleased at his guest and friend conversing.

“Yes, I am small, but I have never eaten babies, understand?” He bit down on his rabbit leg, ripping the last piece of burnt meat off the bone.

“My brother used to tell me that story when he was living with mother, father, and I.”  Gretchen nibbled at her share of the rabbit and cringed at the smell.

 “No more talking, just eat, girl.” Cephas clenched his teeth as silence replaced their conversation.

*

A few minutes passed as everyone finished their plates clean, except for Gretchen, who had hardly bitten into her rabbit or potatoes. The creature belched as he finished his meal, freeing a laugh from Gretchen’s chest as Cephas’ eyes rolled in his skull.

“There’s no need for that,” he said, eating Gretchen’s scraps.

“Gretchen amused.” The creature replied, laughing with Gretchen.

“She needs to leave now, her parents are probably looking for her.” Cephas turned away, throwing the bones into the furnace.

“Gretchen go?” The creature’s eyes drooped.

“I should get back to my mother and father,” she stood up and glanced out the window, “it’s almost dark.”

“Gretchen come back?” His eyes glimmered with hope, and Cephas tried to ignore the conversation.
“Maybe, if I can sneak away again.” She and the creature walked outside where the sun had almost completely sunken, the moon was barely visible in between the blurs of golden and blue streaks in the sky.

As they were about to walk to the path, Cephas stepped outside as well, “Alexander, make sure you are back soon. Do not wander off this time.“

A call rang through the valley; a woman shouting a name worriedly. In the distance, where the path to the village was hidden, a glow of fire was visible above the treeline.

“That’s my mom and dad,” Gretchen exclaimed, unaware of how long she had been absent from her home.

The color in Cephas’ face vanished, “They know she’s gone,” he said. His legs shook and he collapsed onto the grass, “They’re searching the hills!”

The creature was baffled; surely he could return Gretchen to her parents, if she could see that he was polite and cordial then hopefully her parents would too.

“I take Gretchen to them,” he said, and he and Gretchen began walking down the hill.

Cephas spit at him, “No, you fool! They will think you have harmed her, then they’ll get the rest of those b******s up here and they’ll kill us. They’ve been waiting for an excuse to kill me, I just know it!”

“No. We human too,” the creature tried to persuade Cephas, but he was now too forgone from the reality of the situation.

“It is not that easy, you idiot! Get back in the house, now! Let the girl go to her parents!” Cephas got to his feet and flew open the door to the cabin, awaiting the creature’s return.
“No,” the creature was determined, “I make friends. We are people. Cephas tell me ‘we are people too.’”

Cephas stomped his foot and his eyes seemed as crimson as the evening’s colors, “I will not lose my life over your foolishness! We are not people to them, we are monsters. We are the stories that her friends tell her at night, we are the ones lurking in closets and underneath beds!”

Gretchen looked to the creature in confusion, “My parents are almost up the hill, come on. I’m sure they’ll like you.”

Cephas’ panic continued to escalate, his arms waving and his eyes booming with fear until, abruptly, he was still. He then smiled at Gretchen and the creature, grinded his teeth together, and chuckled.

“I know what we can do,” he said, grinning devilishly, “Wait here.”

Cephas ran into the house as the creature and Gretchen waited outside, the calls of her parents grew louder as moments passed. Cephas returned only seconds later, his dagger held tightly in his left hand.

“Bring her to me,” he said.

The creature wasn’t sure how to feel, he trusted Cephas but he was worried what he would do, so he stood there and stared into the sky, thinking. Gretchen clung to the creature as she realized the severity of her predicament.

“I said bring her over to me, hurry! They’re almost here.”

The creature nodded to himself and looked back to the parents who were close to the cabin. He closed his eyes as he picked up Gretchen, who was terrifyingly stiff, and handed her to Cephas.

“What you do to her?” He asked, watching the dagger closely.

Cephas licked his lips, grabbed Gretchen and held the knife to her throat. She sobbed silently as Cephas silenced her with his empty hand.
“I’m going to get what I deserve, what we deserve. I’m going to trade the girl for food, rights to a clean water supply, everything we should have.” The fine edge of the dagger graced Gretchen’s neck, and with one twist of his arm he could end her life.

“That is. . .nice?” The creature could not understand Cephas’s ways, but Gretchen looked to be afraid, and he did not enjoy the sight of her in fear.

“Nice? Who cares about being ‘nice?’ Those damn villagers are not nice, they are cruel, devious b******s and they should get what’s coming to them.” He could see the group of torches through the trees, the family would reach the slope of the hill soon and find their daughter a hostage.

“Gretchen, are you sad?” He kneeled down to Gretchen, who was staring away from the creature, ready to scream if she was given the chance.

“Gretchen?” He asked. “GRETCHEN?” He asked again, much louder and forceful. His bellowing voice struck terror into the girl’s soul, she wept more until Cephas’ palm was dripping with her tears.

“Quiet, you idiot! They’ll hear you and know something is wrong!” He continued to watch the clearing at the bottom of the hill.

“She is scared. Of me?” His words sounded tearful, his soul tainted with image of the crying Gretchen. 

“Good, her fear is what will get us our food, our water, our everything!” Cephas smiled as he imagined the idea of having everything he had lost.

“But she is scared. Cephas. What you do to her?” His tone was desperate and pleading, he wanted Gretchen to look at him as a friend again, not a nightmare.

“Shut it, I think I see them.” The dagger was right on Gretchen’s skin, her veins ready to burst from the pressure of the knife.

“No. I will not let her cry. She is friend!” He wanted Gretchen to stop crying, he wanted Cephas to stop hurting her, and he wanted all of them to be back inside eating dinner like friends. He grabbed Cephas’ arm and released Gretchen from his grasp with little force. Cephas fell back as he lost balance, releasing the dagger from his grasp.

Gretchen fell to the ground and continued to bawl, loudly and with horror embedded in her screams.

“Gretchen, do not scream!” He approached her but she only managed to scream more, he looked into her eyes but only saw regret as she screamed. He dropped to his knees and draped his hands across his face, hiding the look of a defeated man struggling with agony.  Two figures were approaching at the bottom of the hill, their legs were moving quickly as the light of their torches were fading in the wind.

Cephas stood back up and caught his breath, “No, don’t let her get away!”  He grabbed the dagger from the dirt and ran to Gretchen, who was screaming and frozen to the ground, scared to move even an inch. Cephas pushed her to the ground, raised his arm, and thrusted the dagger into flesh.

            The screaming had halted; the lands were silent aside from the approaching parents screaming for their daughter. They had yet to learn that the grass was dripping with her blood, and that a dagger was sticking out of her body. Cephas stood up once again, staring at the limp body of the girl. He saw the parents cautiously approach the cabin; he could not make out their expressions but he could clearly see their appearances. He plucked the dagger from Gretchen’s chest, kicked the body down the hill to the parents’ feet and yelled to them.

“This is what happens! This is what years of pain and misery cause!” He no longer looked the amicable friend the creature met just a few weeks ago; his long hair was ragged and thin, his eyes, which were once approachable and kind, were boiling with a need for revenge, and his color was sickly and gray, no longer vibrant with life. He was a monster among men, a terror to the village down below, and he relished in the sense of intimidation he received.

The parents fell to the ground and caressed their daughter as their cries vibrated the air. The creature, meanwhile, had fallen numb at the sight of Cephas stabbing his young friend and her blood pouring out of her body and painting the ground. As the parents mourned their daughter and carried her body back to the village, he slowly rose and looked plainly at the man that was once his friend.

“Why?” The creature asked, exhausted and lost.

“I had to,” Cephas replied, dipping his hands into the water bucket to clean them, “At least they don’t see us as animals anymore, we are a threat to them.”

“I am not a threat. I am friend.”  The creature wept.

“I did this for us, my friend. I did not want to kill that girl but I had to. Things would be much worse if I hadn’t.” He dried his hands onto his ripped cloth pants.

“Gretchen is. . .dead? Like rabbit?” The creature asked, trying to make sense of it.

Cephas did not respond, and instead went into the cabin. The creature, looking for an answer, followed him, all while ready to crumble from grief.

“She is dead?” He asked again, standing uncomfortably in the cabin.

Cephas sat on his bed, staring at his hands and the bits of blood caked into the wrinkles.

“Yes, my friend, she is. . .dead.” He sighed. “I am sorry. I should not have done that.”

The creature stood there, adding it all up, trying to piece together the lives and deaths of people and animals. “Rabbit did not want death, Gretchen did not want death,” he said to himself, gripping his fists.

“No, they did not.” Cephas closed his eyes, trying to erase the memory of him killing Gretchen and her blood splattering onto him.

“You are monster. Monsters kill. Monsters hurt.” The creature’s tone drastically became resentful still while grieving over Gretchen’s demise.

“I am not a monster, I am trying to live.” Cephas argued, trying to defend himself.

“No, you are monster. You kill those who do not hurt!  Those parents have no child!” The creature could feel the blood pumping in his veins.

“I am no monster!” Cephas screamed with sorrow.

“I will not let monsters live!” The creature grabbed Cephas up with just one hand and threw him back onto the bed as Cephas pled for his life. The creature took the dagger from Cephas’ pocket where he stuffed it and stabbed him. He stabbed him twice. Then he stabbed him for a third time.

Cephas’ corpse bled out as the creature walked away, throwing the knife onto the floor and slamming the cabin door behind him. The sun had vanished from the sky and stars were fading into sight, the world was again blossoming with darkness.

 As the creature began to walk down the hill, he turned back and glanced at the isolated cabin one more time. The monster disappeared into the blackened forest as the sinister cabin crept at the top of the hill, forever haunting the world with its grisly past.

 

Author's Note

Ignore the grammatical errors, I know they're there.

Reviews

[Robert A. Lehman]

A couple of typos or document transfer errors I was able to catch. Should be obvious when you scan the quoted lines what they are:

“After dinner she must leave, if the villagers find that she is missing the first thing they will do is look at me"us.

“Alexander, make sure you are back soon. Do not wander off this ti"“

Classic speculative fiction reminiscent of Frankenstein and Grendel and the Brother's Grimm. There is some wonderful imagery throughout the story but at times the word painting creates vague images that you must squint to see. The characters are well developed and the reader cannot help but feel for both Alexander and Cephas. The story builds tension and conflict beautifully as the relationships develop between Alexander and Cephas and between Alexander and Gretchen. The story reaches a climax and settles briefly and then enters another rushed feeling climax when Alexander kills Cephas.

Wonderful job creating the world these characters lived in. I can clearly see it in my minds eye. The story is wonderfully original and has a true classic appeal.

[Salem Gray]

Yes, I transferred this over from Word and I haven't fully edited it yet, but thank you for pointing out those errors. I will fix them asap!

And thank you very much for your comments. I'm pleased that you enjoyed it and loved the imagery. I will make sure I'm more concrete with my description, as well.
Again, thank you!