SICK LIT MAGAZINE

Monster – Deirdre Lean

 

I lay in the darkness and think about the days that have passed. I think about long ago when my hair looked like gold had been woven through it when the brightness of the sun shone dutifully upon me. My skin was golden from the sun and freckles kissed my nose. The days of summer felt never ending.

Those long days that slid into longer nights when the darkness crept through the windows and the night lights flickered dimly.

The knowledge of the monsters under my bed and in my wardrobe that creaked slightly made me nervous in the night.  I was uneasy in the darkness; fearful of what may come.

Just as I was swept into the calming unconscious of my dream-time, I would freeze up with fear. And the terror would follow me into my dreamscapes; the nightmares of Monsters and evil would follow me successfully throughout the years.

As I got older and my hair a little duller, my eyes less bright with childlike curiosity was all but gone. Those Monsters troubled me less and less until they left me on my own.

The days and the years passed in a moment; one day I am young and full of life with dreams to come. The next? My life has passed.

Now I lay with a Monster; the heat from its body keeps me warm in the darkness. I’m still scared of the creature within it that could come barreling out at any time. I sleep mostly soundly in its presence. I eat with and bathe with a Monster that I can’t always look in the eyes. I live with this Monster that I rarely acknowledge.

In the silence I hear the Monster breathe. I feel its heartbeat and it now brings me solitude when everything else brings me fear.

Those around me don’t see, hear or feel the Monster amongst them. They have had their doubts but never vocalize their musings. At least not to me.

This Monster carried me through the darkness and brought me back towards the lights in troubling times when all seemed lost.

The things I feared the most loved me the best.

I stand wearily and stare at the Monster that I share my life with. Solemnly into its eyes, a familiar sight and I smile softly.

The Monster smiles back but looks away quickly.

I look in the mirror.

That Monster is me.

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Deirdre Lean writes peacefully from the little corner of the world that she and her soul mate have carved out for each other in absolute bliss and seclusion. A mother of two by day, writer by heart.

“The places I go to when I write are forged in tragedy.” – Deirdre Lean 

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