Day 20 Writing Short Stories

Swamp Thing

Monsters are everywhere, according to the news. And I don’t doubt for a second it isn’t true. I have seen them with my own eyes. But what I have seen is not what the newscasters speak of. They speak about murderers, pedophiles, tyrants, greedy politicians, and so forth. All good and fine. You can call them monsters. I would have done in my old life. But monsters become more than that once you find a drooling swamp thing in your living room, trying to eat your insides just because it felt snackish when you strolled your van made into a house to its backyard.

And once you come across an actual monster, you need to think quickly and quit thinking that this isn’t real. My willingness to believe the impossible is the only thing that has kept me alive all these years. Once you see one monster, it’s like you become a flame, or as they see it, like a quick meal. I have refused to become one.

That hasn’t stopped them trying. I fear that the more I kill them, the more they want to get to know me. One succubus almost became the death of me. She was good, ancient, and beautiful, like Helen of Troy, and out to get me. She said as much with a smirk that didn’t leave me guessing. And that was the first of the clues that made me pull my knife out and cut her head off. I was relieved to find a monster’s body at my feet instead of a woman’s. Those things happen. So I have heard from other hunters.

Killing has become too easy. It’s not like they leave me any choice. You might get used to killing, but the work afterward is another matter. Trying to get rid of a three-hundred-pound mushroom-mad bigfoot isn’t exactly pretty or easy. You get pretty good at knowing your chemicals and power tools.

—

Oh, monsters! Monsters make me happy. So many rebirths and voyages that it was fun to write a story about a literal creature of terror, finally. Mind you, there had to be a comical effect as the lottery drew me a comedy as the genre. It also had to be a voice-driven, first-person narrative. You could say that the number generator was kind to me, or the gods of chance and fortune were. Mind you, there is no fortune here. I would complain about such a state of affairs, but I think that would only upset the gods, and we don’t want that. No, we don’t. It’s already a balancing act to exist in the universe as it is.

I have to stop typing. My cat is standing, his paws pressed against my arms, clearly trying to say something about the state of being and my function as a human being.

Thank you for reading! Have a functional day as a human being ❤