Featured Writing By Members

Once in a while someone in the group shares some of their writing with us. A few days ago we got to enjoy this piece of creativity. The member posted this under a pseudonym. Enjoy!

The monster awakes in the darkness, as he always does. He looks out at the shadows and thinks. It has been quite some time since he ventured out into the light. Perhaps this time will be better.

He crawls out of his hole, dust and debris falling from his hair, back, and shoulders. The bright light stings his eyes, making him squint and blink rapidly. He already knows this was a bad idea, but he feels compelled to reach out to the light for some sense of sanity. Still on his knees from crawling, he blindly flails his arms, grasping for anything that can help him to find his way in this frighteningly large and open space. He feels his hand grab something small. As his eyes finally gain some ability to see in the light, he looks to see the object in his hand. By some strange stroke of luck, he has managed to snatch a sparrow out of mid air. He carefully adjusts the bird in his gnarled hand and holds it gently, fearing that his clumsy nature could harm the fragile creature. He gently strokes the bird with one finger, noting the striking color patterns on the wings. Slowly he brings his hand with the bird up to his face, and brushes the soft feathers against his cheek, breathing in the scent of the sky. For just a moment, he almost let a smile crack his wrinkled and ugly face. Feeling a wriggling in his hand, he peers down through a mane of matted hair at his little treasure. The sparrow, in its terror, is frantically struggling for freedom. The monster stares at this thing of beauty, trapped in his grimy and calloused hand, and he knows. It cannot be his, such lovely things are never meant for him. He carefully rises from his knees to shakily stand on his feet. He brings the bird to his face to give it a kiss, and then he opens his hand.

The sparrow flies away as fast as it can, racing toward freedom and safety, leaving the hideous creature behind. The monster watches until he can no longer see even a speck of the bird in the sky. Choking back tears he looks down at his filthy hands, berating himself for having hope. His hands are empty again. They always end up empty.

He slowly collapses back down to his knees, and crawls back into the darkness.Because that is where a monster belongs.

By Joseph Prelude