You live all your life in your body. It’s not the same as that of your brother or peers. You’re paler, leaner, don’t gain muscle as quickly. But it is your body and you are used to it, even if sometimes people tease you about it, that is normal.
Then a monster touches your hand and it turns the monster colour. At first you try to deny it, maybe the monster just cursed you. Buy your father confirms that you are one of the monsters. Those who eat naughty children in the bedtime stories.
Now you can’t stop staring at your hand afraid it would reveal the monster inside. You refrain from touching your loved ones so that you don’t accidentally harm them. You overthink why puberty hit you way too early. You bite your tongue with your teeth as hard as you can to check if they can pierce it. You stop eating meat fearing it would cause you to start craving children flesh. You stop looking in the mirror, you swear you can feel the phantom ridges all over your body. You wonder if being a monster made you perceive the world differently. Do you see colours the same with your red eyes? Does everyone hear people walking several floors below?
Your body is not normal and it is not your own. It belongs to the monster and you only know how to kill it. Your anger starts to frighten you. Is that why your parents didn’t tell you the truth? They didn’t dare to poke the dormant monster they managed to tame. But now that the secret is out, it is awake, and you can feel it taking over. It won’t need to touch the magical Casket to reveal itself. Its claws will flay the glamour along with your pale skin leaving not bloody red but only monster blue. You need to stop it before it’s too late. You need to kill it, kill them all. Destroy everything. But is it you or the monster talking? What a pointless question now that you know you’re one and the same.


















