Monster

The effect of words.

Monster is a commonly hated label given to those who are different, those who scare the apparent normal society. Through a series of life changing events I had come to acquire this title, accept it, and carry it like the shoulder bag I travel with. It wasn't with ease or a happy heart that I first came into contact with this title ;in fact, it was quite the opposite.

        The first person to call me monster had been my sister. She gave me this name because I could twist and charm the shadows by desire. I hadn't hurt her- I swear to you that. I used them to retrieve an item from the top of our refrigerator. At the age of five, it was a place far from our reach. Still, my capabilities scared her terribly. This lead to my isolation. You see, our parents were very much into Christianity and my powers were viewed as demonic. Shame kept them from calling an exorcist and pushed them to lock me in the attic shackled to the floor. Years past and the position and filth twisted my form as well as crippled my ability to walk. It was fear that drove me to behave, to act on the titles that decided my fate: demon, monster, creature. By face I was one, and before the night's end my actions made me one. I murdered my sister, my mother, and my father. I feared if I hadn't I'd never have gotten out. My father's dying words were: you monster.
      It had been three years without hygiene and surviving on my own waste. My hair grew far down my now hunched back. I smelled of sewage. I looked like the missing link. It wasn't long before the police caught me. It wasn't long before I was thrown into a facility. It wasn't long before the world called me a monster. If I wasn't a monster then I was labeled as a beast. My ability to speak had degraded and lost itself in the darkness of the attic that I wasted my loved ones in. I wasn't saddened. I was numb now.
     Secretly, I had loved them dearly. It pained me to know of their loss. The only comfort for my pain was something a nurse had taught me: drawing. But even ,what I slowly came to believe as my true nature, the monster inside me tainted that. Everything came out raw and twisted. Everything came out wrong. My fellow inmates came to fear me. They too thought I was a monster. That had been when I thought to myself:

 "Forget it- forget it all. We didn't need them, we still don't. They'll never understand anyhow. We're better off alone."

      In time I saw that we were. I progressed much faster alone. I became smarter. I could solve five hundred piece puzzles in under ten minutes before I was ten. I was reading at a high school level before thirteen. And by then I was doing college math. But what was the point? Why was I doing it all? And why am I still?



                                                                                                                                        Why?

Author's Note

Grammar, atmosphere, spelling, how did you feel? Where can I improve?