It was rounding to the 8th hour. The sun had settled and the stars were making their nocturnal appearance above our bungalow.
My mother hadn’t come home yet from work. For the past couple of months a resurgence of Monster Hysteria had come back in full force across the world, even more so with anthropocentric politicians taking office.
Monsters were never truly accepted. However, we have been generally tolerated across most parts of the world ever since the referendum. We were even given ‘safe havens’ that many ran to in hopes to revive our lives. The lives we had a right to.
But with every generation comes a time where the children become the parents and live in a constant state of pessimism whilst the parents try to stay ignorant and force themselves to think that they’re living better. To them, there’s no war so it must be better. It has to be because if not, it means they’ve struggled and hoped for nothing.
But the Humans have always been a contentious species. A group who have salivated at any chance to be the only.
Unfortunately my mother, braver than I in every way, refused to rid herself of her horns and still smiles with her fangs no matter how dangerous it is. Because to not be herself, is to relinquish her life and her entire being.
My heart had been in my throat till I heard the key turn in then lock. I ran to the door and she looked at me with delight and smiled as I encapsulate her with my arms. She thought I was being my affectionate self, the part of me that missed her warm hugs, warm food and warm presence. But she couldn’t see the vice that finally let go of my lungs. The lump that reduced in size as the smell of her vanilla lathered skin engulfed my senses.
To her, being out was something to do. To me it was a knife to the gut that twisted haphazardly.