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d3pressed-0taku · 2 years

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My Misunderstood Monster

Hey, I'm back again with another unwanted story. Tbh idk why I decided to make this, but my only guess was out of boredom. Btw sorry, the ending is trash; it's just that I kinda got unmotivated literally have way through and didn't feel like doing it, so I just rushed it, so my bad. But hope you enjoy it anyways.

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I was lying in my soft, swan-like bed, reading the book that took me a whole week to write. I’ve always loved writing stories; I don’t know why but it’s just a hobby of mine. Right before I was getting to the end, someone burst into my room worryingly, and someone was my step-brother, Asriel. I wasn’t all that fond of him, but I didn’t have a choice since he lived with me. “Mary!!!” yelled Asriel, “Come on! We're going to be late for the morning prayer!” “Ugh!” I’ve always hated morning prayer, I don’t know why I don’t, but it just annoys me how early we have to get up for it. I roll the cover off my marshmallow-like white skin and put my book down. My (step) brother and I get ready for the morning prayer; we put on our white robelike clothes and put our shoes on. We then walk to the church.

Once we enter the church, we immediately get yelled at by the priest, Ms.Charol. “Why are you late?!”We are so sorry, Ms.Charol. We accidentally woke up later than usual!” Asriel quickly said in a worried tone. “Sorry isn't going to cut it! Cleaning duty for the both of you!” I looked at my brother, then back to Ms.Charol, and without thinking, I blurted out something I’d never thought I would do: “I can do the cleaning duty by myself.” You may think it’s normal for most people, but not me. If I'm being honest, I'm not the type to help other people. So being nice to Asriel was somewhat surprising. After a couple of seconds, I realized what I had said and was wide-eyed. ”Well, if you insist,” said Ms.Charol, smirking devilishly. “Mary?! Thank you so much!” I shrugged at his statement.

*Time skip to cleaning duty* I went up the church stairs as I had to start cleaning tasks, sadly. Still, as I was going into the church, I heard a rustling noise from one of the bushes beside the church; at first, I thought it was just a roaming animal, but then I heard a loud groan which I could tell wasn’t anything on four legs. I decided to check it out (which you should never do) to ensure. I slowly walked toward the rustling bushes, hoping it was a stray dog or cat. As I got closer, I heard more groans. I start to become anxious. I finally see what's in the bushes, a brown monster with black highlights. It had a long slimy dark brown tail that looked like a shark's seat, with legs of maybe a cricket that looked like a robot. Its arms almost resembled gloves because the bottom part looked shiny and as if the region where the elbow would be was a flame stuck in place. There were also slits all over its body, containing what seemed to be some blue liquid. The head looks like the “Predator”; if you know, you know. I was frozen in shock at the horror before me. Out of fear, I fainted on the grass.

After some time, I finally woke up inside a dark, cold, and slimy cave. I frantically looked around to see if I could spot anybody. I slowly get up from the hard ground of the cave and look around some more. I then decided it was time to get out of there. I frantically ran into the seemingly endless cave to find an exit; after running for what seemed like forever, I started to lose hope, but then I suddenly saw a sliver of light. I light up with joy at my upcoming freedom; I run as quickly as possible and finally see the grass and sun in what seems like forever. But just as I was about to leave, something grabbed my arm. I turn back in shock at the sudden grip and see what seems to be the brown and black monster from earlier.

I gasp in awed horror and try to get its grip off me, but it's too strong. But then, in a raspy, robotic voice, the monster said, “Please don't leave! “. I stopped trying to pull away and looked back at the monster. “W-what…?” I say in shock. “Please don’t leave me all alone! I'm so lonely here in this cave all by myself; I just want to be friends!” I stare at the monster in shock. I couldn’t believe my eyes or my ears. “You can talk?!” I say in a confused voice. “Of course, I can talk.” The monster said as it loosened its grip on my arm. “Oh, so you don’t want to eat me or rip me into shreds?” “Heavens no, why would I do such a thing?!” “I don’t know, that's what the priest told me…” “Oh, well that priest is wrong, I would never do anything as horrid as that to anyone!” “What do you want from me? Why did you kidnap me? What even are you?!” I say in a worried tone. The monster then looks at me for a bit and back into the cave. “Well?” I say in an annoyed voice. “Well, you see, all I want is a friend, but everybody I meet screams at me and runs away like I’m some kind of monster, so I thought maybe if I could bring someone to my place and show them I’m not a bad person, then maybe, just maybe they’ll want to be friends with me….”

I looked at the monster with sad eyes because it was just like me. As I was growing up, nobody wanted to be friends with me either. The other kids told me I was a freak and if I was some kind of….monster. All because I had red eyes and was albino, meaning my skin was all white, including my hair. The other kids and adults despised me for something I couldn’t control. I can’t help but be born like this. I look at the monster and feel pity for it. I was thinking of it as me. I give the beast a soft smile.

‘If you want a friend…then maybe I can help you.” I say softly, “Maybe I can show the rest of the village how nice you are, and you can make even more friends!” The monster was too stunned to speak. “I-...thank you so much!!!” said the monster with some white liquid coming from its big red emerald-like eye in front of its head. “No need to say thank you, it's the best I can do.” I and the monster then started their trail back to the village. They heard a rustling noise nearby one of the trees in the forest. We looked to where we listened to the noises and spotted some jet-black curly hair. I instantly realized who it was; it was my step-brother, Asriel. “Asriel?” “M-Mary?...Is that you?’’ “Yes, can you come out of those bushes now?” “Okay-’’ as soon as Asriel stepped out of the bushes, he spotted the tall monster standing beside me. “AhHhHhH—” I put my hand over Asriel's mouth to stop him from screaming. “Calm down! It’s alright; it isn’t going to hurt you. I promise!”

Finally, Asriel calms down, and I help the monster and Asriel gets to know each other. We finally got to the village. Once we get there and show everyone the beast, they all freak out. But Asriel and I help them get accustomed to the monster and tell them that it’s not dangerous. At first, everyone was very skeptical and still quite scared of the beast, but over time, they (kind of) became more comfortable around it, and people started not to be so mean to me. I finally gained some friends. Eliza and Gregory are both my new friends and very nice to me. I also became fond of Asriel and started hanging out with him and the monster more. Overall, people became nicer and learned from the monster. Me, Asriel, Eliza, Gregory, and the beast all lived happily ever after, or not?

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Word Count: 1365

#story #monster #vintage #misunderstood

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d3pressed-0taku · 2 years

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The Logistics

Idk why I made this, but I was just bored ig. I already posted this on Reddit but decided I wanna post it here too.

TW!!!-suicidal suggestions(?), cursing, alcohol addiction!

Hope you enjoy my shitty story 🥸

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As many reasons exist to kill yourself, there are just as many reasons to fake your death. The reason is the easiest part. Pick one. Losing your job, losing your lover, losing the cap to the toothpaste is all valid to disappear. The why isn't the hard part; the hard part is the where, when, and how. Indeed, planning how to kill yourself is undoubtedly more difficult than actually killing yourself. Whether preparing for a wedding or a suicide, the logistics will always be your death.

For Celeste, the where had already been decided. The pristine and entirely- furnished beach house she purchased on impulse with her first series check had been vacant for years and was just begging for a bit of drama. An hour's drive in her cherry-red convertible brought Celeste to the main entrance, where she casually entered the gate code and coasted to the semi-circle driveway. The exterior had been repainted twice since she had bought the property. The semi-gloss coating went from powder blue to sun-kissed beige and back to powder blue, all at Celeste’s request, even though she had never physically been there. Often Celeste wondered how she had ever managed to make her life so complicated and why anyone complied with her requests.

The tabloids called her high-maintenance, hard to work with, bitchy.

The beds of her six-bedroom/four-bathroom Barbie Beach Mansion had never been slept in. The nautical curtains still hung crisply from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the hardwood was so polished her designer sandals squeaked on the chestnut flooring of the main foyer. The maid Celeste paid to maintain the property had opened the crystal-clear sliding glass doors to let in the ocean air. A nice gesture, but Celeste didn't plan to be around to accommodate the maid for her extra effort.

After shooting on location in Ireland for nearly half a year, the Pacific sea breeze was somewhere between refreshing and appalling. Inhaling the natural sodium of the California air, Celeste wondered if maybe her sudden unsettled stomach had less to do with her choice of setting and more to do with the half-stomach full of prescription pills she had popped like rainbow Skittles during her road trip.

The tabloids called her a drug addict, party girl, and total mess.

She surveyed the individual rooms of the house. Having viewed them online from her laptop while she was in Europe, seeing their details in person was drastically less impressive than the guided video tour had led her to believe. Celeste brought her pouty pink lips into a smirk. If there was anything she had learned from her experience in the entertainment industry, it was that video often lied. Talking pictures could be edited to tell any story. They could make any angel into a demon.

Coral lines formed in the sky as sunset approached like poetry. With the were set in stone, the when of Celeste’s plotted demise was still up for debate. The orange and pink in the sky were getting darker and seemed to speak to Celeste like the painting you would only see hanging above a toilet. Sunset would be.

The sand was colder than Celeste had imagined when squished between her toes at the bottom of the deck. With the when and where decided, it was only a matter of how. There were still plenty of tropical-colored pills in her bag upstairs, knives in the kitchen, and fresh linens that could be twisted into navy blue and off-white colored braids. She thought the twin bed sheets with the little anchors in the spare bedroom would make quite a fashionable hanging rope. But no, Celeste had chosen her private beach house for a specific reason, and as she watched the strong waves pound furiously on the shore, the ‘how’ became more apparent.

Celeste had never been much of a writer. Her expertise was seeing the words on the page, memorizing them, and bringing them to life when the camera rolled. The right starlet, in the right location, at the right time was the type of lightning in a bottle Celeste knew how to capture. For her most recent scene, she just needed the perfect script and the right words to make her audience miss her when she was gone. She wanted tears. She wanted apologies. Then she would return.

The paper crinkled under her hands as the wind blew small tornadoes of sand over her bare feet. Celeste could hardly believe that she was about to pretend to die shoeless after the millions she had spent on footwear alone. But, she had been told the most worthy sacrifices were often made in the name of art. Pulling the pen from her dress pocket, she scrawled in exaggerated bubble lettering. Her words were short enough to fit multiple mediums; the caption of a black-and-white picture or an epitaph on a tombstone.

With her final thoughts completed, Celeste got to her feet and sunk into the moist grains for a few seconds before setting her sites on the ocean, prepared to create the illusion that it had swallowed her whole. Tucking the letter into an envelope, she wedged it between the railings of the wooden steps and then strolled towards the roaring waves.

This was about to be her finest dramatic moment. But, somehow, in all her planning, the one thing Celeste had not accounted for logistically was the power of an unforgiving undertow combined with a stomach full of muscle relaxers.

The tabloids called her reckless, unbelievable, and dead.

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Word Count:926

#story #party girl

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