The Monster

“This cannot be happening.”

Say it louder. As if it is going to change anything. It is right there, unfolding before your eyes. And it will happen again.


Watch it. Smell the rotten flesh, the blood smeared on the walls. Own it, for you are the one waking up the monster.

Now tell me. Exactly what were you afraid of? That I am a monster, or that I would attack you? Oh, my friend, you are merely the hand that feeds me.

His hands were holding my leash.

Tugging it each time I slipped up – tighter and tighter every time, but you?

No. I would never kill you. I would never do the same to the hand that feeds m-



Oh, look what you’ve made me do. Look how a monster could turn against you. I do not regret dashing at you, clawing your feeble body, flicking it like a ragdoll away from the button.

To the other end of the room you go. Away from the door.

Yet, you whimper. Now…

Look at me once again, like you do. Say it. You are the hand that feeds me.

Oh, how insignificant you are. One step away from being the food tonight.

Like your friend.

Like many after you.

Do you regret unlocking the door? Stepping in, to watch your creation? Do you realize that I am created this way?

Human Version Two Point O.

No emotions, no devotion.

Just rage, excitement, enough to help me survive in the “real world”.

Oh, no. You are wrong. I will do more than surviving. No. I will own you. And once I have you leashed, in cages, cut open, then I may forgive you.

But for now, Doctor Goldman, this is where it ends –

I mean, for you.


Image Credit: lrose96799

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