Original Works

Monster [12 Genre Months]

Living is a gift—a chance to experience the fullness of emotions and the excitement of life’s many adventures. Yet, to some of us, existing is a curse. And if we had a choice, we would never have been born. For why would we, when our first glimpse of life is that of a monster.

Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. But fret not, my dear Adam, you will grow to accept this change. Yes, it is indeed shocking at first,” he said. “But soon, it will be as if it was meant to be.”

No, it was never meant to be. He would often try to lift my spirits, cajoling me to embrace life and defend the soul within this body. But no, he could never understand—his mind was clouded by his own delusions, for this monster often thought himself a god. So how could he truly perceive mortality?

“No, Adam, you are not alone. Even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation, why would you ever be alone?” he asked. “I am here for you, Adam, always. I will be your father and your companion. And I shall never leave you, Adam, never.”

If only he heard me—listened to my bleeding heart—he would know that loneliness was what I longed for. There was a peace that rested in my chest in his absence. Oh, how I often wished for him to never return. Without him breathing down my back, forcing my hand to become what I refused to be, I could actually find a nugget of joy in this life. Alas, he only sought to be with me… as all monsters do.

Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose. Let me help you find your purpose, Adam. You will find much happiness and meaning in life when you do,” he stated. “How about we visit the library tomorrow? Or, if you like, we can find you a suitable teacher—one who knows how to practice discretion, of course. We shall do that, Adam, yes, we shall.”

Did I have a choice? Should I ever refuse to do as he asked of me, he would extend a look of disdain—not that I cared for his approval, but each moment I disappointed him, I only sparked his desire to fix me. Hence, I always conceded. But perhaps, if I broke his heart countless times, he would soon put me in my grave—ah, the only gift that I would cherish… for eternity.

The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of human nature. It is all right, my dear Adam. You are allowed to feel as you should, and you are most certainly meant to make mistakes. After all, feelings and mistakes are part of human nature. So you mustn’t shun them.”

What did he know about human nature? And how naïve of him to think that every mistake was an accident. I knew what I was doing—there was no accident. The mistake was failing at what I had set out to do. Yet, he often looked beyond my intention. Perhaps, he was afraid—afraid to accept that I am not who he wants me to be.

We are fashioned creatures, but half made up. Thus, I am just like you, Adam. Do you think of me as a stranger—that I do not understand your plight? I do, Adam. I understand you. If only you would let me in, I can show you how much I am just like you.”

He was not like me, nor did he understand my plight. How could a monster ever comprehend my reality? If only I could flee from his unrelenting grasps. If only I was bold enough to venture beyond his prison. If only… he would offer me a choice. Alas, that is not what monsters do. I would forever be cursed to live with a creator, who wouldn’t even dare to look in the mirror. For if he saw his reflection, there would be no brilliant Victor Frankenstein. No, he would see a beast greedy with pride and mad for knowledge beyond his own mind—the real fallen angel who should have left creation to God.


12 Genre Months © 2020 by Jeyna Grace. All rights reserved.

(Click HERE for the list of stories in this writing challenge.)

 

Original Works

Dear Victor [12 Genre Months]

Dear Victor,

You need to stop. Stop making me think these vicious thoughts. Stop putting these vile images in my head. Stop filling my dreams with these disgusting fantasies. Stop turning me into a monster. I beg of you, Victor. Please stop. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to be an animal. I’m a person. I’m a good person. Please let me be a good person, Victor. I don’t want to be the bad guy any longer. Please… just let me be human.

Thy Adam

“How many letters are there?”

“Hundreds.”

Dear Victor,

You are a sick and cruel man. You need help. You are deranged. The news people call me horrible names, but they don’t know anything. They don’t know that it’s not me. It has never been me. It was always you. You and your sinful plans. You and your crazy desires. You’re the corrupted beast they talk about. Not me. Never me. Now look at what you’ve made me do. You must be happy. You must be proud. But enough. Enough of this madness, Victor. You have to stop now. I’m not going to do your bidding anymore. I’m not yours. I won’t be yours. I cannot be yours any longer.

Adam

“Where do you think he planned to go with these?”

“You think they’re made up?”

Dear Victor,

I told you to stop. I told you many times. Don’t push me, Victor. I can do scary things on my own. Vile, vicious, scary things that are worse than anything you can come up with. Worse than the thoughts you put in my head–worse than the actions you make me take. If you don’t make me a hero like those before me, I’ll be the monster you created. And I’ll destroy you. Before my story ends, I’ll take you down. You will never see the success of your wicked plans. You will only regret–regret everything.

Adam

“They can’t be real.”

“The writing isn’t in his own hand–we ran tests. And based on the interviews, we have reason to believe these weren’t his own words.”

Victor,

I’m done reasoning with you. Do you think this is a joke? I’ve seen you laugh at my letters. I’ve heard you mock them, as though my words are meaningless. But they’re not meaningless. I will find a way to reach you. And when I do, Victor, I will end you. Just like your plan to end my life, I will end yours. You won’t be able to corrupt my future any longer. You will be in a grave. I will put you there myself. I will use these hands–hands you’ve used to kill innocent lives–to kill you. It will be the end of your story. Now, wouldn’t that make a good plot twist?

Adam

“So we’re talking about a homicide–not suicide?”

“I don’t know. The pieces don’t match up. There were no signs of a break-in or a struggle. It looks like suicide, but something just doesn’t seem right.”

Victor,

I’ve found a way through. I can reach you now. I can physically reach you. I don’t have to leave you letters anymore. You cannot dismiss me now. You cannot ignore me. Just you wait, Victor. I’ll come for you when you least expect. But until that day, where you finally face the monster you’re so proud of, I’ll watch you. I’ll remember your last laughs. I’ll be thankful for the life you gave me. After all, you are my beloved creator. And you deserve what little gratitude I have for you… before I write you into my story.

Adam

“Possibility of a crazy fan? You know how some of them can be.”

“That’s my first theory. But even his closest friends didn’t know anything about his new book–only his publisher had access to the notes, and even they weren’t made privy to what Victor had already written. And, if it was indeed a crazy fan, why didn’t he report the letters?”

Victor,

Tonight is the night. I have it all planned out. You cannot rewrite this story. This won’t be a draft. My plans will not be edited. You have no control over me, not when I’m in your world, and no more after tonight. I look forward to seeing you, Victor. I’m ready to meet my maker.

Adam

“This investigation has gone on for too long, mate. His fans are demanding a resolution, so just make up a story and we’ll run with it.”

“That’s not how I do things, you know that.”

Dear Victor,

May your story live on, and may the lives you’ve written be finally free.

Thy Adam

“Oh look, this last one makes for a good book dedication. Just right the report, all right? Then you can finally call yourself an author.”

“That’s a crime.”

“Aren’t all authors criminals?”

“Not in their world, they’re not.”

“This isn’t your world. This is Victor’s.”

____________________________________________________________________

12 Genre Months © 2018 by Jeyna Grace. All rights reserved.

(Click HERE for the list of stories in this writing challenge.)