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Writer's pictureLucy Carter

Monster: A Short Story

Updated: Aug 22, 2023


Note: This is another short "horror/thriller” story I wrote. It is probably an improvement from my first story, but feel free to give it feedback! Like the first one, it is a little open-ended, but I adopted a different writing style for this one (i.e. it is not written in three sentence increments, so hopefully, the narration will flow more and be less rigid). Thanks for reading and enjoy! ☠️☠️☠️


The story starts here:


If I keep going, I will shake it off. Then, I would get two hours of rest all to myself. No running. No hiding.


I already knew I was a fair distance from that monster. After all, I could no longer hear its loud, scurrying footsteps, nor its raspy, sibilant breaths echoing the chamber and vibrating the air. I knew, however, that in just half an hour, it would come back and scurry up the staircase. If I stopped running, I would have to look that monster straight in its hideous, bloodshot eyes.


Leaning against the rail of the staircase, I heaved myself up. I unbuttoned my suit, which was now damp with sweat, and glanced back at the columns of stairs that were lying behind me. I sighed, then gazed back at the columns of stairs that were ahead of me.

“I have a long way to go,” I groaned.


Exhaling sharply, I trudged up the staircase. Step after step. Mile after mile.


I finally made it up. Of course, I was not at the top of the staircase. The tower was immense, after all, but what mattered most was that I was a great enough distance from that monster.


Sighing, I slouched onto the floor, reclining against a wall. I now had two hours all to myself.


I slid out my pouch; there was only a handful of dried fruit and a tiny packet of meat left.


Salivating, I turned my head away from the pouch and jammed it back into my pocket. I had to ration.


“I’ll probably die either way,” I mumbled to myself.


I knew that if I kept running, I would starve, but if I stopped running, that monster would kill me. That was the dilemma: I did not have much of a choice in how I could live, but I somehow had two options on how to die.


On one hand, if I kept running, my death would be delayed. However, the life I would be living at that point would be slow, empty, and excruciating. It would be pointless. I would have spent the rest of my life running, but not actually living.


If I let that monster kill me, at least the death would be quick.


But I would not be able to cherish those last moments of my life. Instead, I would spend those last minutes of my life with adrenaline coursing my veins and pain pulsing my body. I would not be able to peacefully reflect on the life I had lived.


I remember the last time I saw that creature. I remember seeing that vicious, murderous gleam in its eyes. All it wanted to do was spill my blood and lacerate my flesh. Just imagine what would happen if it captured me…


I shuddered at the thought.


How could I spend the rest of my life like this, running and hiding, continuing to be pursued by this monster? Why must I choose a way to die? I should be able to choose how I can live!


“I will make it out alive!” I told myself determinedly.


I knew what I had to do. If I could make it to the room at the top of the tower, then it would be easier to fight the creature. It would be hard to have close combat on a staircase, so it would only make sense to find more solid ground to fight on. Additionally, if I made it to the top early enough, I would have more time to prepare some weapons and plan my battle strategy. That would ensure my survival. Then I would finally be able to return back to my children.


We would not have to fear that monster any longer.


“Just three more flights,” I told myself. "Three more flights, and I will be able to defeat that creature."


I could already hear screaming and scurrying behind me. Good! I will be able to fight that creature sooner!


Smiling gleefully, I leapt back up and continued ascending the staircase. I was so close. Just so close.


My lungs were burning, my head was becoming light, and my brain was numbed by adrenaline, but I still persisted.


I had to live.

For myself and for my children.


After what felt like an excruciating hour, I finally made it. I was at the top of the tower.


I could see yellow light peeping from the crack underneath the door. I threw open the door and thundered into the room.


I was tempted to lock it and remain hidden in the safety and comfort of the room, but how could I? How could I live the rest of my life locked in that room, listening to that monster scratch and kick at the door when I had the chance to destroy it?


I scoured the room for some things I could use. Knives, daggers, glass.


Relaxing my shoulders, I tried to regain some composure. I knew I would have the tactical advantage. After all, that monster would surely be exhausted after climbing up those stairs, so its strength would be limited. Plus, I was more familiar with this room than it was.


I determinedly swung open the door, ready to let that monster in.


The padding footsteps and raspy breathing became louder. Then, the beast leapt through the doorway.


There it was: a sweating, bloodshot human man.


With a savage glint in his eyes, the man pounced on top of me.


I tumbled onto the floor. My pouch rolled out of my pocket, flinging the pink chunks of meat I had left onto the floor.


The man shrieked. Tears were now streaming down his face.


“That,” he screeched, pointing at the meat, “was my wife! HOW COULD YOU?!”


He pinned himself back on top of me, face red with anger.



***


After hours of toiling, everything was silent.


I wiped the blood off my dagger, then trudged down the room, massaging the bruise on my shoulder.


“Daddy?”


I spun around. My son was trembling in a corner. His baby sister was curled up next to him, crying and hiccupping.


“Is that man gonna keep chasing us?” he asked me worriedly.


I crouched in front of the two children.


“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “He won't.”


"So, we can be a normal family again?" he asked.


I smiled and nodded.


I forgot how precious the children were. They both looked so much like me—they had my claws, my fangs, my eyes—all six of my eyes.


My son prodded my shoulder.


"Daddy, I'm hungry," he told me.


"Well, you can have the last of my rations," I responded, tossing my pouch in his direction. "There isn't much left, though, so why don't you get that man out, too? He's on the counter. He should be thawed out, now."


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