Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Monsters

Monsters wake me in the middle of the night, calling my name in seductive whispers. These are not the monsters you normally think of. These are not the monsters told to you when you were a child.

These are real.

Only, they aren't. Well, they are, but only inside my head. To you they're not real. To the nice girl who gives me medication, they're not. The reason I like her is because she gives me the medicine that helps the monsters go away. The soft and squishy and bouncy walls don't help me fight the monsters. If I try to fight them, they tell me mean things. They tell me I should not live. They tell me I don't deserve life.

The monsters are the reason I'm in here. I was not always here, in this white padded cell. I used to be normal, living in a house and going to school everyday. Then the monsters came one night, telling me what I had been hiding from myself this whole time. I'm terrible and stupid and ugly and fat and mean and a horrible person.

Slowly their whispers turned to shouts. They screamed at me to end the life of the most terrible person in the whole world.

So I did.

That's why I'm in this cell, sleeping against the white floor, taking the colorful pills, and being bound by this straitjacket. The jacket and walls exist so I won't hurt myself. The pills make the monsters go away.

But not for long.

More writing by this author

Blogs on This Site