Short Story: The Confession Of A Monster
About this Short Story
A man who, during full moons, transforms into a monster confesses about what he is.
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That night, I was standing under a locust tree, looking up at the thick clouds covering the full moon. I’d waited for the moon to show up and shine down at me. The clouds swam right in a moment, slowly, slowly, disclosing the brightness of the moon. I drew in the cool night air around me, deeply. I smelled the fragrance of the decaying leaves, the rotting bodies of animals, of humans, in this so much a remote place. The moonlight bathed my body. I felt the pleasure of exaltation. The strength and power I’d been waiting for a month encroached inside me. I gritted like I was going to crunch my teeth. I stiffened my cheeks and jaws, closed firmly my hands releasing the muscles of my arms, hardened my abdomen and thighs, and braced my knees tensely. I welcomed the full moon night of the month and I welcomed the entrance of the spirit of darkness into my…
Short Story: The Confession Of A Monster
That night, I was standing under a locust tree, looking up at the thick clouds covering the full moon. I’d waited for the moon to show up and shine down at me. The clouds swam right in a moment, slowly, slowly, disclosing the brightness of the moon. I drew in the cool night air around me, deeply. I smelled the fragrance of the decaying leaves, the rotting bodies of animals, of humans, in this so much a remote place. The moonlight bathed my body. I felt the pleasure of exaltation. The strength and power I’d been waiting for a month encroached inside me. I gritted like I was going to crunch my teeth. I stiffened my cheeks and jaws, closed firmly my hands releasing the muscles of my arms, hardened my abdomen and thighs, and braced my knees tensely. I welcomed the full moon night of the month and I welcomed the entrance of the spirit of darkness into my soul.
In the past, when this time had come, I could not control it, I could not feel it, and I did not know it. I just had woken up, became aware, that I was in front of slain mammal, which stomach had been ripped open and cleaned out. But now that I’d been used to it, I had got along with it. It had become a routine, a habit, and a part of me. I had felt good the first time I managed to adapt to it. Now, I felt better.
Thick strands of hair suddenly grew in my forehands, arms, shoulders, front thighs, legs, and my back. The hair on my head swept up like barb wires. My face lengthened into an oval shape. My eyebrows and beard and moustache thickened. My mouth widened, as my teeth arose out of it and became pointed like the canines of the lions. My ears became bigger and broader and pointy and bulky. My fingers elongated and sharpened and settled into talons of an eagle. At my back, the cloth I wore stripped out as something from my backbone came out. A bat’s wings. My whole body became huger, denuding the clothes I had put on.
I jumped up effortlessly, shot upward into the air, above the trees, into the wind, over the clouds, atop of the world. I howled like no animal can surpass it. I flew downward, into a silent village, in a midnight no one was awake but owls and cicadas. I alighted on top of the palm leaves roof, gently. The dwellers of the hut were certainly snoring in deep sleep. Using my talons, I scoured the interlaced palm leaves roof and peered through it with my dark reddening eyes.
The dwellers were asleep on the bed, inside the mosquito net. There were three of them, the couple and their child. The desire built up; the desire to kill them and eat their heart, liver, intestines, kidneys, pancreas, and bladder; and to suck their blood. I imagined they were around me lying dead, their bellies were ripped open, their digestive organs inviting me to consume them up and their necks calling me to suck their fresh blood. I let out my tongue. Let it dropped onto them, tediously to avoid stirring them. My saliva fell onto the floor.
The husband rolled to his side. I then abruptly dragged back my tongue up. He dozed again. I let my tongue move down once more. I needed to cut enter my tongue into the wife’s belly. I felt she was pregnant. A fetus is the most delectable meal a monster like me can ever have. I smelled it from under the womb of its mother. Slowly, slowly, slowly, my tongue stretched down onto her. It was now so thin that it could enter through the mosquito net. Now I let it went inside the net, a foot off her belly, half a foot, three inches, and…
The husband snatched my tongue. I pulled it up, as quickly as the frog’s capturing an insect. My tongue hurt. I lurched and fell down into the ground, heavier than a sack of rice. I get up and spread out my wings, and darted up. I knew that the husband would now be guarding his wife. I knew he had now a knife to cut my tongue, or a gun to shot me dead. I was flying up in the air, flapping my broad batwings, and disappointed of my plan.
The desire was still there. The savor of eating the fetus the wife was carrying was still there. It was so intense that I could not help it but go back. I thought positively, that the husband had maybe gone back to sleep. He would not be guarding until morning. He had work to do the next day. Everyone has work to do the next day except me. I worked at nights, sleep in days.
I head back to the hut. But I did not landed on the roof. I touched down on the ground at the hut’s backyard. I fanned in my wings, fastening in my back. I prowled the area. I saw the surroundings as vividly as you see it during days. My sight works effectually at night. I’m a nocturnal creature. I thrive in the dark. The spirit inside me comes from darkness. The hut had a back door. I went to it. It was locked inside, with only a rope. I let my tongue do the untying. In a moment, the door hinged in. Then I moved in.
The place was a kitchen. The next door was leading to the dining room, also the bedroom. There, they lay asleep. I saw just two of them. The husband was not there. Then someone appeared in front of me, from under the table. It was the husband. He hit me with a long block of wood. It did not hurt me. It did not even bother me to move to him and strangle his neck through my hand. I lifted him up. He was choking, quivering, and he lost his strength.
His wife and child were aroused. The child cried in fear. The wife, who was trembling with consternation, covered him with the blanket. She moved out of the mosquito net and got something under the bed. A rosary. She showed it to me, her hands shaking.
I’m not afraid of it. I heaved off the husband like a log falling into the ground. I moved towards the wife, with my unmodified intent of digging up her fetus. She was in absolute fear. She was crying, screaming, and shaking. I paced, as my tongue twirled out my mouth with drops of saliva descending into the floor. At last I held her neck with my left hand. My right hand uncovered her body. Her cleaned and shining belly had urged me to thrust my talons into it and dug the fetus. I played my sharp talons out her belly, forming circles of rashes. She passed out.
Now was the time. I could not help the desire anymore. I had to ram now my talons. I raised my hand up. As I stroke it into the wife’s belly, something sharp sunk at my back. I had been cut, but not deep. I suspended what I should have done. I release the inactive body of the wife and turned around to face the one who had wounded my back. It was the husband.
He blew me again with a honed wood. It struck my belly, but did not cut it through. I pulled the wood off. He was yanked. I bent and clutched his feet and threw him off to the bamboo walls. The walls broke off.
He was now outside the hut, crawling. I flew to his back. As he stood up, I jabbed my talon into his backbone. He growled in pain. He groaned. I pitched him into the bushes of the backyard. I would be killing him now. I heard him groaning in the bushes. I dashed to him. I held his hand and hauled him into the clear ground. It would have been his death as I was into ramming his belly. But, he had a double-blade knife in the back of his pants. He stabbed it to me, in my chest. It cut me. I could feel its cool metal inside my chest. I could feel I was going to let blood out of my mouth. I rose up but I stumbled once. I rose up again and hopped into the air and flew far away under the light of the moon, as globules of my evil blood dropped into the earth. Then my sight blurred in a few moments and my monstrous body fell like the blood into the earth.
I woke up in a place crowded with people. I woke up in my naked human body which had been swarmed with blood clots in my chest and back and mouth and neck.
And now I’m in this cell like a prisoner of crime, wanting to get rid of this evil spirit that forcing me to kill and eat human or live animals. Every night when the moonlit flashes through the narrow window, I transform again and again into a monster that’s trying to get out of this confines. You’ve just watched me entertainingly, killing myself because of intense desire. I can’t get out. I have been hungry. I have not eaten proper food. You always serve me the same cooked food. I want to eat a live animal, chicken or pig will do. But you haven’t given me. I’ve been telling you, living animals are the only proper food to me.
I’m tired. I hope you just kill me here, when the evil spirit is still out of me.
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