Monster
by Isabelle Veronica Ma
This flash fiction is part of the student’s final bulletin project in T1 Mover. At the end of each term a student will produce creative narrative pieces with progressive complexity and lengths. Learn more about how you can also write & publish your own stories on our Instagram, and contact our WhatsApp for more information on when you can register for the next batch of Creative Writing.
Melissa woke up in a dizzy state, her mind full of only meaningless thoughts. One of them being the fact that her mind was full of meaningless thoughts and the other, the monster that was in the corner of the room. It did not have a face, for its only features on its head were spikes. It looked inhumane as the only thing human about it were its human legs. It did not breathe, nor shout, nor scream, and when it started to walk towards Melissa, it faded away to dust, it did not leave any debris and certainly no evidence that it was ever there.
With no sign of the monster, she shrugged off her thoughts with less worry than before and jumped out of her bed to prepare for school. Her uniform had been ironed and straightened out. She grabbed the hanger off the hook and quietly walked to her door. Her door had not been fixed, the hinges would crack and snap if you didn’t open it carefully. Melissa tried not to wake her sleeping parents as they were outside in the living room. Her father was still sobering up from drinking last night, and her mother was sleeping on the couch after cleaning up after her father.
Melissa gently opened and closed the door, then, touching the cold metal handle of the bathroom door. It was open, this time, only because it couldn’t close. She showered quickly and put on her delicate uniform. Melissa smiled at her reflection and it smiled back. She left the bathroom quietly and walked through the hallway of rooms. She took her bag from the hook and exited the house.
The walk from home to school wasn’t far, though, she wished it was, even if it meant walking further. Melissa reached her school and entered the hallway full of students that weren't nearly half as stressed as she was, and teachers who couldn’t even control their own classroom. Her class only had 17 students, which was significantly less than other classes. It would often go quiet on bad days. Like when the teacher scolded them, but that day was a good day. The teacher was late, everyone was loud, to her, it was the best day ever, even though she was never really a fan of loud noises.
Every second, minute, or day that she didn’t have to spend at home, she didn’t need to worry about herself. She often thought about it, how someone was suffering a loss in the same moment, how somewhere in the world that there would always be someone lying on their bed, sick and fighting for their life, and there was just herself, alive and healthy, complaining about the situation with her mom and dad, a situation that might seem silly to others.
Her thoughts were stopped by an uncanny feeling, same as when she had woken up in the morning. Melissa cautiously looked behind her to see the spitting image of the monster. Her eyes widened in alarm as her breath stopped short. A loud ring reverberated throughout the room. She gasped in shock. Everyone stared. She, however, did not care, Melissa was more quick than careful to put her books in her books.
The exit of the school hallways, the road between school and her house, the entrance to her home, was a transition from one world to another. On her way back home, she felt a lingering feeling of anxiety as the sun began to set. Melissa knocked her head once, then twice, then three times, it was an unusual way to calm herself down, but it worked.
“Get it together, Melissa, you’re doing fine,” she mumbled to herself.
She was prepared to find herself in the same situation she goes through, and what was normal to find was her mom cooking dinner, the only time she can see her mother finally have that tiny gleam of joy and sparkles in her eyes because her father was out drinking again, meaning that the house was peaceful during the afternoons, while Melissa was in school. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what Melissa was hoping for.
The door was wide open. “Mom?” The creaks of the door were louder than her call. She could only assume her mother was in her own room.
“Melissa?! Where IS that girl?” her father yelled. She was startled by the sudden voice coming from the living room, her first instinct was to sprint behind the kitchen counter without leaving a trace of her presence. She opened the utensil drawer quietly (though, that sounds hardly possible), and withdrew a fork, placing it by her chest. A fork is alarming to most people, but it was the best protection against her father. To stab or to threaten, neither had worked before, it was only a matter of time before her speed lost its advantage.
“Melissa, you’re there, aren’t you?” her father said, in a calm tone. It was even more dreadful than his drunk-self. She squatted and scurried into her room, silently shutting the door.
The clothes in her closet were all wrinkled. Her uniform had hardly been ironed, but she always put an effort to keep it tidy, clean, untouched, a clear distinction between the place she lived in, and her life. Melissa peeked outside, with her night gown in one hand, and the other on the doorknob. Carefully, she squeezed through the door and walked to the bathroom. The mirror was placed where you could immediately see it. A reflection was what everyone would be expecting, not a monster.
The same monster began following her again. She glanced at herself once more, making sure that what she saw wasn’t the way everyone perceives her. For a moment, she hesitated to undress, to expose her body to something or someone she could not recognize, the hallucination disappeared, and so did the feeling of its presence.
Her cold feet entered the shower place as she closed the fragile glass door behind her. The warmth of the water soothed her body. An hour later, after her body was almost too red and the floor’s half-flooded, she pats her body with the towel and puts on her nightgown. Melissa wondered if her father knew she was really home or why he did not bother to check the sound of the rushing water coming from the bathroom. She did not bother to close the bathroom door and snuck back into her room, locking it.
It was still early, barely close to midnight. The sunset was still visible from an angle of her window but her curtains did not let light through. Her lights were off, the bedside lamp was the sole source of brightness, There were only two books in her room: one, a book about surviving an attempted murder, a gift from her father a few years ago: an two, the wonderful travels of a girl who managed to enter a world opposite of her reality. The second book was always her first choice, as she had never read the first, for if she had ever been in a situation where she was targeted, she did not want to survive.
The corner of the room was the comfiest with her back bent over, her knees close to the chest and the book held tightly in her small hands. Every line of the page has been memories, the same words and pages she had been reading since she was six.
Her heartbeat thumped and rang in her ear. Melissa already knew what was in front of her. The book was covering the view as she tried to avoid eye contact. She closed her eyes as tightly as possible and drops her book on her way to the bed and melted onto it. She had became too familiar with her bedroom. On the bedside table was a velvet cloth that she uses as a sleeping mask, she placed it on her eyes and tied it around her head, making her hair messier.
She tucked herself underneath the warm blanket. “One sheep, two sheep, three sheep...” she whispered, trying to sleep. The blanket was being tugged with force, but she held back. On the last tug, it pulled her blanket away from her, exposing her bare thighs. Melissa did not flinch and faced her body towards the other side, pretending like she’s already asleep.
The monster pulled down her nightgown to cover her before moving swiftly to the side she was dancing. She shivered at its touch. It opened her blindfolds gently, careful not to harm her with its chain for an arm. It had a chain with an unreadable pocket watch for one arm, and a bouquet of scissors on one arm.
It shoved the bouquet to her face, the blades facing forward, almost scarring her. Melissa hesitantly gripped a pair of scissors, pulling it out from the bunch. As soon as it was separated from the collection, both the bouquet and the monster had disappeared.
She shuddered at the thought of interacting with her own hallucination. Her mind was not synchronized with her body as when her eyelids fell elegantly, telling her to rest. Melissa was still questioning her own sanity. Her hands held the scissors close to her chest, blade pointing to her chin.
The morning birds sang, the warm rays of light from the sunrise had shone to the floor from underneath the curtain. Melissa was woken up by a continuous pattern of a wet surface felt on where her bruise was. It was a creature she had never seen in person before, a little pig.
“Now, where did YOU come from?!” she giggled with excitement. She jumped out of bed, reminiscing of what happened last night. Before unlocking the door, the mirror on her door caught her attention. Her reflections showed no scars or bruises on her face. Melissa inspected every inch of her skin and found no trace of wounds.
The hesitation she found herself feeling wasn’t present at the moment. The door being unlocked and opened was a loud sound, but she did not care. At the end of the hallways, she tripped and picked herself up, looking ahead of her, she observed her mother fixing a breakfast for herself and her father, reading a newspaper by the bar. Had he finally gotten himself together? What an irregular view, Melissa thought. A thought crossed her mind once, where her father being sober for once was even stranger than seeing pigs fly.
“Mom, dad, something extraordinary happened to me last night, I’m not lying, I’m not being weird, I have evidence of it too!” she exclaimed, recalling the gift the monster left her to take last night, “A monster came for me last night, I mean.. It wasn’t necessarily a monster, it was nice, look at my legs and my face, my scars are gone… It even left me a gift last night-” A hand came flying to her face. The side of her cheeks now red. Her mouth was wide open, staring back at him and her hand while staggering backwards. Her father laughed in amusement, “Is this funny to you?” he asked, glaring at her. How could a father do that to their daughter... Melissa contemplated, still in disbelief that her own father had hit her.
“If you never want to hear what I have to say, maybe I shouldn’t have been born with a voice, then.” Her words weren’t clear and her voice cracking. Still, she learned not to shed a tear, because that would make you pitiful and she already pitied herself as much as how someone would have if they had seen her.
“You might as well regret your entire existence, ha!” his voice echoed through the hallway as she walked back to her own room. She was wrong, he may not be drunk, but his sober side was still probably more honest about what he thought of his own daughter. Her bed was in reach, Melissa laid on her bed, facing the ceiling, repeating his words silently in her head.
Oink, oink! The piglet made its way to her, stumbling across the untidy blanket, sniffing her body while smothering its snot on her. Its tongue was warm and sloppy but it continued to lick Melissa’s redness on her cheek. She pushed the piglet away numerous times, but it seemed to have resistance to Melissa’s force. “Stop it already, I’m fine,” she said with exhaustion. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d talk to her mom and dad. The most interaction she had were the exchange of glances to her mom or the smiles they reciprocated to each other when she returned home.
“Hey... Did you do something to my face—” She laughed at her own joke while looking at the piglet who innocently tilted his head. Curiosity got the best of her as she checked herself in the mirror.
“N-no way... Have you possibly got ointments on the slimy slobbery licks you’ve given me, or possibly magical powers that heals people once you see them?!” The piglet snorted as if answering yes to all her questions.
Melissa looked at her uniform on the hanger, waiting to be worn. She sighed, not bothering to sneak to the bathroom to shower after what had happened. She quickly changed out of her pajamas and scanned her appearance while buttoning her shirt. Her bag wasn’t neat, the heavy books and crumpled balls of test papers that were never signed by her parents were never thrown out, and took up a lot of space. Melissa lifted the bag by its ends and poured all her necessary and unnecessary items out to place the piglet in. After looking at the gleam and hope in its eyes, she chuckled out loud.
“No pig’s named Bob. You’re gonna be the first!” She laughed, proud of herself for giving such an odd name to a pig that she met less than an hour ago. She stopped in her tracks to realize that something was missing. While she was packing a few stationeries in place of the books she needed for school, she recalled the pair of scissors that she was still holding up until she had run to her parents that morning.
She rummaged under her blanket without looking and caught a pair of sharp blades. Melissa carelessly dropped it in her bag and zipped it up carefully in order not to accidentally pinch Bob’s skin.
Without saying a goodbye, she headed out to walk to school alone. Her classroom was loud as usual, she hoped that Bob wouldn’t attract attention with his grunts and snorts, though, everyone’s noise would’ve already fully drowned his squeals and whimpers.
The teacher walked in, glaring everyone down with a stern look. He immediately noticed how most students hadn’t prepared their books yet. With a loud slam of folders and test papers onto the teacher’s desk, he received everyone’s attention.
It was specifically today that the teacher decided to pick on Melissa. Any other day, he would’ve left her unnoticed and questioned the “bad kids.” Today was odd for sure.
“Why is it that everybody’s so lazy all the time?!” he wailed while shoving his pile of books to the floor.
“Melissa Jones, is it that hard to take your books out to your desk where I can see them?!” he asked desperately. “Would you like me to take out your bag for you? Maybe, even study for you? Ya’ might as well quit school!” he added, as he walked to her desk.
“No, sir,” she uttered quietly. Melissa, scared to zip open her bag knowing there were no books whatsoever, mobbed slower than his patience could take. Mr. Williams snatched her bag, taken aback by it as it was quite heavier than what normally should’ve been five books and some stationery.
“Melissa... If I open this bag and find no books, stationeries, you WILL be sent to the—” he paused. His finger still pointed and his eyebrows still arched. Melissa was aghast as it seemed like time had stopped for her classmates too. They did not move, nor blink, nor breathe, exactly like the monster she had hallucinated. As she wasn’t hurt or harmed by whatever is happening, she thought that maybe this wasn’t going to be disastrous either. Melissa waved her hand across Mr. William’s face, checking for eye movement. She zipped open her bag to find Bob sleeping and unbothered. She took the bag out of his hands. To leave or to stay wouldn’t change what was happening. She decided that it was better to do nothing in the comfort of her room than being all alone in a room full of people who didn’t even have the ability to move.
It suddenly came to mind that she never really observed the “gift” or perhaps, a message, from the monster. Society defines a monster as an ugly terrifying being. What also is a monster is someone or something that has done harm or damage. A person born with the right looks may be forgiven, probably because they’re easy to look at, but an ugly monster would be hated for simply existing. Melissa was trying not to be brainwashed by everyone’s mindsets of how beauty is easily forgiven and the ungifted wouldn’t be trusted. The “monster” was nice, she tried convincing herself.
The blade was sharp, but it never hurt when she poked herself with it. Its red handles were in a shade she’s never seen stationary shops sell. It would’ve caught people’s attention if she brought a pair of scissors everywhere, let alone, one that’s vibrant enough to hurt your eyes.
Melissa reached home thinking the time had passed the same as the clock at her school. She doesn’t beg to wonder why the entrance was left open as it had already happened before.
The neighborhood was awfully quiet. The birds weren’t singing as if they were frozen too but the sky continued to darken. Melissa holds the scissors to her chest for protection. It wasn’t strange to her that the door was only slightly open but that it was moving and had sounds of a groaning man behind it.
Just as she was slowly approaching her house, the protruding edge of what seemed like a kitchen knife roughly stabbed the door, then was pulled out.
“Lie to me again, Melissa, this is what happens!” Melissa could barely make out what he mumbled aggressively, she pushed the door slightly to call her dad out. ‘Dad, who are you talking to..?” she seemed desperate to snap him out of it, this time, her eyes showing the worriedness that her dad never showed to her.
He raised his knife and aimed for her neck. Melissa’s reaction time was slower than his wobbly, drunk self and managed to scratch her arm. Blood came trickling down her skin as she stared at it in horror. Her father had never been so mad over such a silly thing before. He raises his hand again, this time, aiming for her other arm, as she covered her face with her palms, the shine of the silver blades of her scissors caught her attention.
It was very clear that there were engravings of some words, half a sentence. The monster isn’t real, it said. Before processing what it could even mean, her father scratched her palm with an even deeper wound this time, like he wasn’t brave enough to stab his own daughter. Melissa wishes that he would at least be slightly sober or aware of what he had done. Then again, it wouldn’t change how he would act.
She ran behind the couch, but leaves a trail of blood on the floor. Her father’s vision was blurry, he couldn’t care less about it. As he went closer to the couch, still looking for her with his grip on the knife tighter than ever, she snuck up behind him, scratching his shoulder blades without trying to cut him too deep.
He dropped to his knees and cried like a siren, falling to the floor. Melissa stared in shock, not realizing she had hurt him that bad. “Mom! Mom!” she screamed, terrified of what might happen next. Drawn out by the loud noises of screaming and groaning coming from the living room, she came out and looked at the situation in shock before calling the ambulance in panic.
~ three years later ~
Melissa was now sixteen years old. Her home was a place where she didn’t need to sneak from room to room anymore. Though there are some days where her father is still drunk and her mom hardly ever comes out of her room, the number of days of the week when that didn’t happen outweighed the number of days when it did.
She was still in high school, but she never thought about how loud the classrooms or classmates were anymore, because she was one of them. She would be loud and silly and no one would care to look at her weird.
Melissa picked up a job as a waitress to prepare for her college tuition. Even though she was growing up and probably now taller than her mom, she would never forget her past, how everyone wanted to relive their childhood and how she never wanted to remember it. Melissa still brought her pair of scissors everywhere she went, she felt as if it was a tool for protecting herself. To this day, she still wondered about the “monster” that she met that night.
Ring Ring! Another customer had entered, it was her classmate who she always paid attention to for no reason. He was always quiet and seemed constantly annoyed by everyone. In a way, it reminded her of who she once was.
A loud crash of his pencil case distracted everyone. His pencils and stationery were flying everywhere. Some people helped, while some people didn’t bother to look. Melissa crouched down and helped him collect his things until he saw another pair of scissors identical to hers. She observed it, finding an engraving of half a sentence, except that it seemed like the continuation of her scissors:
It was only a reflection of yourself.
He noticed her pause and looked at the scissors, then gazed over to her scissors. They looked at each other in silence before both of them asked a question at the same time, “Where’d you get this...?”
