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Monster
As I'm sitting here, in this box-shaped room, staring at my prey three feet away from me, I am anxious. This child, an innocent child, will die. She is nothing to me, nothing at all. When she wakes, only then will she notice my presence. She is sleeping calmly, probably dreaming sweet childish fantasies of blue skies and purple unicorns flying to see a magical princess. Little does she know that in a few short hours her rosey red complexion will fade away to meet a dull white color. Little does she know that the curls that surround her face will fade and cover a life-less dull face. Little does she know of her radiant blue eyes fading with the sunset. Unlike the sun, her eyes will never surface again.
~Little does she know of the monster I am~
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This article has 207 comments.
Nicely done! Reminds me of John Gardner's "Grendel". Great book.
By the way, I recently wrote a piece entitled "A Fantasy," and I'm afraid people might not read it because the title is, admittedly, lacking. If anyone would be so kind as to read it, I'd deeply appreciate it.
