Monster

His first memory was of in the forest. The hempen rope around his neck scratched at the thick fur that covered his head and chest. He looked up at his mother with wide, vapid eyes. But she was looking straight forward, angry tears streaming down her face. He mooed softly, wanting her to look at him. But she kept walking, dragging him by the rope when he was too slow. He was tied to a tree and left him there, confused and alone.
As years passed, he grew larger, stronger. He grazed on the grass on the forest floor and was content, though lonely. His mother rarely visited. When she did, she was crying. She called him “Minotaur”. He assumed that was his name. She also called him son. But she sounded angry, cursing him. When she did, he turned away in shame. He knew that he had done something wrong, for her to curse him like that.
Another memory, this more hazy. Hornless men, made of sunlight, came to him. They beat him with sticks as he bellowed. They laughed at him, called him “monster.” They threw a net over him and dragged him to a cave, carved from stone. Pictures of the hornless men decorated the walls of the cave. The heads of animals were on the walls, they were like his head. He bellowed again in terror. Then he was brought into a bigger cavern. His mother, and another man, sat on rocks made from sunlight. The man bellowed at him, then at his mother, striker her in the face. Minotaur yelled, he was furious. His mother was endangered. He attacked the man but he was beaten, knocked to the ground unconscious.
Now he is all alone again. But this time, he is underground. He has tried to escape, to save his mother but he can’t. After they knocked him down, he was down here. At first, the ground above him would open up, and fresh grass would come every day, but now it comes less often. He is always hungry. Sometimes, he wanders around, through the twisting walls, looking for food. He never finds any, only bones. It is hard to find his way back to his room, but he can smell his stench. He hates the smell, it makes him feel ashamed. But they never wash him, never give him water to clean himself, to bathe. Sometimes, people wander through the twisting walls to find him. He comes to them, to see if they can free him from this dark cave. But they scream and run and they leave. They usually die. Sometimes, they will try to eat his grass. Sometimes he shares. Sometimes, he doesn’t. Today, someone new came. He is different than the others. He has a long spike, like a thorn, but bigger and shiny. And he has a string that is attached to his arm. Minotaur will try to keep this one alive. He will share his grass. Maybe he can follow the string and leave. But what is the man doing. He is coming closer. Minotaur bellowed in anticipation. Suddenly, the man’s face turned angry and scared. The man raised the thorn, it glinted in the darkness. Minotaur backed away. He screamed for his mother. Help! Help! Then the man stuck him with the thorn. Minotaur bellowed again and charged with his horns. But the man was faster. Minotaur struck out with his hands and bellowed in rage and confusion. Why was this man hurting him? He had done nothing. Maybe this was his punishment for what he had done to his mother. He began to cry. Then he stood very still and let the man stick his thorn into the base of his neck.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 25.04.2010

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Widmung:
This book is dedicated to the monsters of the world