Evil's Monologue

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic


A short story about a villain who gets defeated. However, instead of feeling angry he feels something else...

Submitted: October 13, 2017

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Submitted: October 13, 2017

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Hello. I’m going to assume you found my hideout, because there is no other way you’re reading this. Well, I guess someone could have written it down and turned it in for an assignment, but why would they do that? It’s not very nice to plagiarize someone’s work. Especially if that someone is me. But alas, I am getting off topic. You didn’t traipse through a mighty jungle, tumble down a dark pit, and tiptoe past ferocious guards to copy down one measly paragraph. Actually, you did not in fact do any of those things. Because I am not at my base.

“But why,” you will probably ask, “is a cunning villain such as yourself not in a base?” I have a few things to say to that. First, you are quite the flatterer. Second, I would like to point out I am immune to flattery, the humble man that I am. Third, I agree that I am quite cunning. And though you wouldn’t know it, as you are staring at a paper with words instead of my face, I’m also very handsome. Lastly, my base was destroyed. A terrible tragedy, I know. That blasted hero-- I don’t remember his name, but he was an idiot-- somehow took me down with friendship. Can you believe that? The most powerful thing in the world, and they name it friendship. Heros have terrible naming skills.

Don’t feel too bad for me, this happens all the time. I manipulate some innocent heros, I rise to power, I get cocky, I receive my downfall... it’s happened so much, I’ve even turned it into a game of sorts. How long can I rule the world this time? Can I keep it for an hour? Perhaps I could snatch it for a day? Long story short, this isn’t the first time my demise has come. However, this is the first time I’m recording the epilogue of the previously mentioned events. The purpose is so people will know my story. The story of how I was captured.

Yes, I can imagine how you are gasping in disbelief at this very moment. “How could you have been captured, the wily snake you are? Didn’t you say something about a hideout?” Again, you are such a charming person, you. Also, I did say something about a hideout, didn’t I? Yes, the very hideout you are in right now, copying my life story just to get an A in your class. It is my secret bunker, kept for when my base is destroyed. How is it possible that I was able to get my words onto the pages inside here if I’m locked away in some dank, repulsive dungeon? The answer to that question is I’m not in a dungeon, though the smell in here would suggest otherwise. I am sitting on a rock at this very moment, churning my thoughts out through crinkly paper and crusty ink. I am not in jail yet, but I know I will be captured. Why? Because I will turn myself in.

Ah, there’s that gasp of disbelief again. Don’t worry, I didn’t expect this to happen either. Turns out, there’s this funny little emotion called guilt. Guilt shows up whenever it thinks you need a lecture about what you did. Every single time you do something wrong, it gets slightly bigger. Most of the time it minds its own business, popping every now and then to set you on the straight and narrow. However, some people-- people like me-- don’t listen to guilt. They shove it to the back of their mind in order to do whatever they please without remorse. The guilt whispers in their heart-- my heart-- telling them to turn back. But they don’t. And this guilt, it keeps growing bigger, stronger, meaner. By the time I realized that, it was too late to go back. It was too late to fix what I’d done. It was too late to stop the guilt.

I… I’ve done so many horrible, horrible things. I’ve stolen goods, I’ve kidnapped others, I’ve tried to kill several people, and I’ve even succeeded with that task a few times. Their screams still haunt me, their crimson blood staining my dreams at night. I can’t take this anymore. I now see why so many villains before have switched sides. Not because of laws, not because of morals. They didn’t want to cope with this unbearable pain. It’s always in the back of my head, screaming about what I have done and how I can never fix it. I may not be able to go back and fix my mistakes, but I can at least pay for them. That’s why I am letting myself get captured. If not to bring justice to the world, then to bring peace to my mind.

I should probably conclude this now, lest my teary eyed story go above your maximum word limit. All I ask is that you learn from my faults. Don’t ever do something you will regret. It may not seem like a big deal now, but your choices stick with you your whole life. Again and again, guilt will try to stop you. That is not a bad thing. Listen to it, so that you will not end up like me.


© Copyright 2018 Cassie Rust. All rights reserved.

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