The Monster

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
a horrible monster terrifies and haunts the memories of the eldest gatherer.

Submitted: March 21, 2017

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Submitted: March 21, 2017



The Monster -By Monte Lee

I'll make it " He vowed to himself. Clutching his stolen prize to his breast, his breath coming in short gasps, chest heaving from his sprint.

I'll make it ' I always do" he thought, as he carefully peered around the corner looking for his adversary.

I am the eldest now.

I have to gather food.

I must harvest.

The Monster.

The monster that had taken his brother in the past. And more recently Wick thought, his mother.

It was out there somewhere, but where?

He thought of his mother then briefly, how he'd found the mess of her, bloody ,dead eyes staring lifelessly upwards, her coarse gray hair matted to her head, and the blood, so much blood...

The sound from around the corner of the wall ripped wick back into the present.

He thought he'd heard it. But As he looked, he saw nothing but the nest of the beast. Empty now. Multicolored rags thrown carelessly into a makeshift bed. He could smell the stink of the beast as he had passed on his way to, and back from, the harvest.

He must find another place to gather food.

Almost on instinct, Wick hugged the small morsel of food he had been able to pilfer. He smelled the aroma and knew that this would feed his father and younger brother Wren for at least two days.

He smiled slightly, showing his yellowed teeth.

If they were careful, three days.

Then he would have to come back again.

And face the Monster.

It was the food (or lack of it, he thought) that had forced his brother Wyatt to lose his life.

Why does the monster torture us?

Why does it not let us eat?

In his minds eye he could see the creature. It was hairy and very large.

Sometimes it appeared to be sleeping or at rest, but you could never be sure. Easily it was was ten times the size of Wick himself, and Wick was as large as his father and much bigger than poor Wyatt and Wren had ever hoped to be.

It was the same yellow- orange color of Wicks well used and well worn teeth. The fine hair on its body made the coarse hair on Wicks shorter build stand on edge.

The monster had four long limbs, attached to a broad muscular body. He knew, had seen that each of it four limbs were equipped with razor sharp claws.

He had seen those same claws rip his brother's body from side to side, ripping and thrashing Wyatt to death before his eyes.

Wick had been powerless to stop it.

Wyatt had known the risks. He was brave. He was the eldest. We all were hungry for the food.

As far as Wick could tell, the thing fairly rippled with strength. It had a long hairy tail that would slash from right to left violently or twitch nervously in it's sleep, as if the monster dreamed of killing its prey. Although Wick had never seen the tail used to attack, he was sure it was a weapon of some sorts.

Of course the head of the beast was the worst! Frightening!

Long, sharp ears that matched the golden fine hair on the body that drew down to a triangular V, ending in a pink shiny snout filled with sharp, gnashing teeth.

The beast was mostly very silent. When it did deem to make any noise at all, the sounds it made sounded like thunder to Wick. Deep and resonant growling that came from deep within the creature with teeth sharp enough to rip Wick from end to end in the space of a breath.

Wicks father had always collected the food. Ever since Wick could remember being a smallbreed.

Living in squalor in the cramped conditions with his brothers. Wyatt was the eldest and had died gathering food.

Wick was the middle. Wren was the youngest. His father and Wren, were now waiting at home for Wick to arrive safely with the food.

Wick remembered the night when his Mother had left to gather food. His father had been injured by the monster only the week before.

He was very lucky to have only lost an eye to the beast,and had still managed to return home with the food. We tried to make that last bit of harvest last, but with many in the herd, food did not not last long.

Mother being mother, must feed her family. Gather the food.

Feed the herd.

At the time Wyatt the eldest yet was still too young to gather, as was Wick.

Wren had not even been born yet.

He remembered mothers coarse gray hair. Her large brown eyes that had bred him into the world. She would be quick and careful. She would gather. They would have food.

His mother had died in the slashing teeth of the monster. Not only did this creature murder us,but fed upon us as well.

Wick took a quick glance around the corner to be sure it was not there. Hiding, stalking him.

Why does it torture us?

This Monster. Why does it toy with us? And feed upon us?

Why can't it be merciful and release us to harvest? Why does it seem to take pleasure from our suffering,our fear, our flesh?

He had seen the beast toying with Wyatt when he was killed. Slapping him roughly from left to right. Saw the fear in Wyatt's eyes, as he struggled to escape. Wick had watched him struggle for his life from the same point around the corner that he stood at now.

Desperately peering at his older brother's dilemma. Hoping for his escape,but the Monster had finished the job. Whether by its evil intent or accident, my brother was dead. Joining his mother in the next life.

He could still picture the image of his brothers body,hanging bloody,from the jaws of the great evil beast.

That had been last night.

He was eldest now. He had gone tonight as now eldest brother, to gather. To harvest.

It was well known the monster did not always protect the food at the same time everyday. The Monster was gone now. Wren had passed safely.

That was the chance.

That was the gamble we as food gatherers must take.

Otherwise, your herd will go hungry.

He had already taken the already too ripe morsel of food from the harvesting place,and was still catching his breath behind his hiding place, when heard the loud slap-bang noise that was his only warning. He quickly glanced around the corner again.

That was the sound of the beast!

It came from the distance,and Wick knew it would mean the creature would be upon him in seconds!

As large as the creature was, it was very fast.

Almost faster than Wick.

He had frozen for a few precious moments analyzing the sounds.

His nose was twitching as he smelled the air for the trouble he knew was coming.

"Run!" his mind yelled. "It's coming!"

Wick wasted a few more valuable seconds sniffing the air until he heard the rapid thud -boom of the monster, coming from his right. He could imagine its long legs charging towards him.

He turned from his hiding place behind the corner and glanced towards the monsters lair. He wanted to run, had to run, but he must see where it was! How close was it?

There it was! flying at him, at what Wick seemed impossibly fast. He could see its yellow eyes staring directly at him,the pupils enlarged at detecting his prey.

Wick drop into his sprint posture a second too late.

As he sprinted to his right, he caught a glimpse of of the great fangs of the monster, inch's from his face!

He knew if he could avoid those fangs, he might have chance!

His heart was racing as he caught his breath and bolted to his right!

He could smell the breath of the thing as its orange fur and huge gleaming yellow eyes, glared down on him with mild curiosity and serious intent. This, more than anything, seemed to frighten Wick all that much more.

Heart racing, he dodged left, and felt the air of the sweeping claws at his feet. He used his natural ability to sprint quickly to the right then sharply to the left with the claws of the beast tracking his every move with dangerous accuracy!

The beast was fast but then, so was Wick!

With the creature in hot pace just behind him, Wick could see the entrance to his home only ten paces away. He would make it after all.

It took Wick a moment to realise his mistake...

He had dropped the food!

He had let go of the reason for his risk.

He must gather. He had to go back.

As Wick stopped abruptly, a moment's hesitation. A slight pause. Wicks thoughts evaporated into a sharp pink mist, as the monsters claws finally, inevitably, found their mark.

"I'll make it. I always do." Thought young Wren, Heart racing. "I must gather food"

This is the risk we mice must take.

We must gather. We must harvest.

Father is hungry.

The End

© Copyright 2018 Monte Lee. All rights reserved.

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