Sunday Scribbling -- Feeding The Monster
This week's prompt at Sunday Scribblings is The Monster. When I started to write, I intended to go in one direction, but I think the monster took over. When I ended it, I was aware that I could keep writing and turn it around to where I meant it to go in the first place, but the monster took hold of my hand, and refused to let me change it. Here is my 5-minute burst on The MONSTER:
The monster that comes to my door is a clever monster. He does not shout and pound at the entrance to my house. He comes quietly, and appears docile, disguises his true nature, and makes me open my door to his pleading and whining. “I’m hungry” he says, “so hungry.” I am not inclined to feed a stranger who looks odd, who looks, somehow, like there are dark and hidden intentions, but I am also polite, well-schooled in proper behaviour, and when someone says they are hungry, it’s only good manners to feed them, especially if they then say. “Please, please… just a little food. If you feed me, then I will go away.”
Folly! I should have known. (I do know, in the marrow of my bone, I do know, but I do not always listen to my promptings). What my inner voice says is “If you feed him, he will get stronger. If you feed him, he will think he belongs here. If you feed him, you will never be rid of him.” But, I offer a little, because I am a polite and well-brought up person. I open my cupboard, and bring bread. The monster’s eye glitters. “Bread” he says. Ah… “would you perhaps have a little marmalade I could spread on it? Something bitter and with a scraping of peel within?” My turn to retrieve the jar is interrupted with his request for tea. Piping hot.
Feeding the monster takes all morning. His polite requests turn to less polite ones, then to demands and orders, and I rush to comply. He grows as I shrink. He becomes stronger as I find my limbs shaking and my eyes unable to focus. When he roars for turnips with brown sauce, I find my chin trembling, and suddenly my tears are coursing down my cheeks and I am pleading please, please, go away. I have no more to feed you. You have taken everything I have.
The monster regards me impassively. “Oh no", he says, "I have not begun to take what you have. ... But soon, soon, I will begin. Now that you are ready to offer. I will begin."
There will be more Monstrous Tales HERE at Sunday Scribblings