The Monster

Get out of here! Youre frightening all the children! Why are you always hanging around the yard? Stay at home!

The shrill voices of her neighbours jolted Katherine awake. There was no need to guess what was happening outside; she already knew. The Monster had ventured out again at the wrong moment. Why couldnt he just stay inside?

In the neighbourhood, they called him the MonsterGreg Short. Lanky, big-headed, hunched over, he looked as though hed stepped straight out of the pages of an old gothic tale, the kind with disturbing illustrations. Had an artist ever needed a muse for some brooding Victorian novel, Gregory would have fit the bill perfectly.

Greg had been born far too earlybarely seven months along.

He wont last, pronounced the women who glimpsed him first. Best carry him away.

His mother hadnt wanted to lookor count his tiny fingers. Greg was her third child and hardly a welcome one. His father worked two jobs to keep the family afloat, and had met the news of another pregnancy with resignation. Gregs mother never had much affection for her brood. If they were there, fine; if not, so be ita constant fuss, nothing more.

Her milk never did come in, so they sent her home as soon as they could, promising to transfer the child to the childrens ward.

Why? she asked limply. Whats wrong with him?

The doctor, a kind-eyed woman, tried to explain, but soon cut herself short.

Have you seen him yet?

No, they havent brought him out. Said hes too weak. Besides, I cant feed him.

Follow me, sighed the doctor, unwilling to waste breath on such a distant, watery gaze.

They wouldnt let her into the childrens ward, but let her see the baby. At first, she didnt notice anything amiss. But as she looked closer, she gasped, not for the small bluish bundle, but for herself, tears rolling down her cheeks.

What am I supposed to do with a baby like that?

Its your decision. Still your child. For now…

Greg was admitted to the childrens hospital as Short. Given no namehis fate undecided. No-one could explain why they hesitated. Perhaps neither parent cared enough to remember the moment later. Greg didnt question it much himself. Whether out of fear or indifference, hed only ever broached it oncewith his grandmother, never his mother.

They didn’t want me, did they?

No one ever wants a child like that, his grandmother replied, matter-of-fact, never one for sentiment but never denying him conversation either. Why not just leave me at the hospital?

Shame. Everyone saw your mum carrying you. Its a small town. Wouldnt do for your brother and sister to bear the brunt of the gossip.

That was enough for Greg. He and his brother had always been distant, but his sister, Anna, twelve years older, was the only one he ever truly loved.

Anna had become part mother, part sister after she took him home from the hospital when the time came. Their mother only tended to him as duty required, leaving him for hours in his cot, crying, never finding the energy to comfort him. He was always clean and well-fed, though. His health was watched over meticulously. But there was no love. No tenderness. No warmth.

Except from Anna.

She never seemed to notice his deformities. She didnt shrink from his thin, desperate cries. When she got back from school, she would toss her satchel aside and rush to the nursery, scooping him out of the cot.

Whats all this noise for? Come on, stop it. Im here now. Want me to sing to you?

Only Anna sang him lullabies and told him stories. From her, he learned that there was such a thing as love. He had plenty of carehe starved for everything else. When Anna married and left, Greg cried as if his heart would break, knowing the one person who loved him for who he was was leaving his life.

I cant take you with me, Greg! You know well be living with my husbands parents, and theres just no room. They dont want you there either But youll come visit, yes?

Greg said nothing, just sobbed, a grown boy weeping on the hem of his sisters wedding dress, knowing reality was changing for good.

Anna moved to a neighbouring town with her husband, leaving Greg alone with his own reflectionand people whose rules judged the soul by a face. Youre pleasant if youre beautiful; best not to bother if you werent favoured by nature. No point ruining your day!

Had anyone said he wasnt as hideous as he thought, Greg wouldnt have believed it. Hed learned to avoid people wherever possible, convinced he was repulsive.

He barely scraped through school, skating by on the lowest marks. He made no effort for further schoolinghe knew he wouldnt be welcome anywhere else.

Instead, Greg found work as a caretaker.

He liked it: early mornings in the courtyard, broom in hand, doing good work. It was his gift to the people who didnt care for him.

He swept the yard, planted flowershis own ideapainted benches and climbing frames, not just for the wage, but to bring more beauty into the world.

To Greg, beauty meant cleanliness.

He could remember Anna bathing him as a child, whispering, Such a clean boy! So handsomemy lovely lad!

He might never please anyone with his looks, but he could delight them with his spotless yard, the well-tended beds, the playgroundall thanks to him.

Some neighbours noticed. Some pretended not to see, conveniently blind to their immaculate surroundings, as if a team of gardeners, not one caretaker, maintained it.

Greg didnt need their approval. He was content to know he was right in what he did. From his window, hed watch the children clamber over the brightly painted swings, the fresh sand in the box hed built with a cover to keep out stray cats, and the new roundabout. Mothers sat on benches placed just soall his doing. Flowers followed each other through the seasons, always something to please the eye and heart.

Despite his youth, Greg saw people as peculiar, misshapen nesting dolls. Which one shows on the outside was anyones guess. Open them up, and theres good and bad inside everyonewhat portion of each they held was revealed only when you reached the smallest doll, at the very core. This, Greg understood: everyone harboured both kindness and malice.

So he never felt affronted when mothers shooed him away from the playground in case a glimpse of him might harm their children.

Nor did he begrudge neighbours who rushed past with a nervous hello, keen to avoid eye contact.

He didnt begrudge his parents, now elderly, left in his care because his brother had long since moved to Scotland and rarely telephoned, and Anna only visited from her village when she could. She and her husband had eventually bought her late grandfathers house; shed always wanted to live in the countryside. She flourished, raising two daughters, caring for her bedridden mother-in-law, managing the household. More than once, she offered to take the parents too, but Greg always refused.

What would I do, Anna? Youve enough on your plate! How do you do it all?

Its because of you! Greg, I dont know what Id do without you! shed say, hugging him.

Anna came to see him and their parents once a month, helping to put the flat to rights and fill the cupboards.

It was Anna to whom Greg confided what the neighbours whispered behind his back.

They call me a monster, Anna

Oh, Greg, you cant shut other peoples mouths. Let them talk! They dont know you!

But Anna, am I really so frightening?

Silly! Beauty it takes many forms. Some people, you look andyes, theyre beautifulface, figure, everything. But then you speak and hear their soul, and youd hardly call them human, would you? Havent earned it but you, Greg, youre real. And your soul is so beautiful, I cant find words for it! Just waitfate works in funny ways. Some get everything on a plate. Some have to wait for luck to come their way.

Are you saying fates lost my address?

No, Greg. It just hasnt reached you yet. Just wait, your time will come. Youll see.

He believed Anna. So he treated the neighbours kindly, ignored hostile glances or sharp remarks, and waitednot even knowing what for.

Each morning, he took up his broom and cleaned the courtyard, trying to keep to himself, though it didnt always work.

Greg, off you go! Ill water the flowers.

Thank you

The head residents voice made Katherine wince. Valerie Pearson had a knack for noticing everything, and Katherine wished nobody did. Shed spent seven anxious months hiding her secret.

She punched her pillow in frustration and tried to burrow back to sleep, but moments later she was running for the bathroom, pressing a hand to her mouth.

Her two previous pregnancies had brought little discomfort; this one, her third, had been all morning sickness and dread. At first, she blamed cheese or sour milk, but once her husband left again for a stint offshore, she realised this was the harbinger of a bigger crisis.

Her children barely noticedthey had homework and the internet. So Katherine spent hours alone in the bathroom, staring at nothing and cursing herself for getting pregnant at forty-eight. The shop-bought belt she pulled tightly around her waist did little to conceal the truth.

She had not planned another childher husband had made his stance clear, and Katherine knew what defying him would mean. His fists didnt scare her as much as his silent contempt, his keener weapon. She would do anything to ensure the child never saw the light of day.

Clutching the tap as cold water sluiced, she whimpered under her breath, pain twisting deep inside her. After a final, brutal spasm, she collapsed onto the bathroom floor, shivering, alone in the silencethe children sent to their grandmothers in the village on holiday.

Hours seemed to pass before Katherine, numb and half-conscious, dragged herself upright, then delivered a weak, whimpering baby in the same towel she had bitten down on against the pain. She did not thinkjust wrapped it, carried it into the hallway, and then after cleaning up and donning a coat, stumbled out into the morning darkness.

The night was nearly over; dawn tinged the rooftops gold, but the street was still deserted save distant dog-walkers with their pets.

She crept along by the bins, still not certain why shed come. The bundle in her arms was silent. Suddenly it felt easierjust get rid of it. Discard this unwanted, unnecessary burden, restore order to her life. Her husband would never know. Her parents, from whom shed never expected support, wouldnt shame her. She forcibly forbade herself to think of her children.

She grabbed an abandoned shopping bag by the bins, wrapped the bundle and set it carefullyalmost tenderlyamong the rubbish.

Thats that, she whispered, glancing round, then hurried back to the block.

She didnt hear the faint sound from the bag, nor notice Greg as he started his early sweep with broom in hand.

There was plenty of work that daytwo wedding parties had scattered rose petals and confetti across the pavement. Humming to himself, Greg swept the remnants of their celebration into neat piles, buoyed by the knowledge Anna would visit today, and his mother, for once, had risen early to make breakfast.

His soul was light with these small blessings.

Having tidied around the entrances, Greg pausedshould he clear up by the bins, or water the flowers before residents woke? He loved watering the beds with the hose. Most days, Valerie handled the flowers, but Greg decided, Ill managetheyll all sleep late on a Sunday.

He made his way towards the bins, but paused, catching the birdsong and another, fainter sound, oddly familiarand chilling.

Realisation struck him. Sprinting to the bins, Greg yanked at the bag. Katherine had wound it tight; he tore it open with his teeth, desperate to save the small voice within, growing weaker every second.

Seeing the baby, Greg let out a scream so wild and raw that no one dared scold him for waking the street early.

Help!

Valerie dashed out, her dressing gown flapping. Instinctively, she wrapped the baby in it, heedless of her own nightdress.

Neighbours flocked down in slippers and dressing gowns, draping jackets over their shoulders. Everyone rushed to help the very man theyd always called a monster…

Someone rang for an ambulance, another called the police, while others clapped Greg on the shoulder, their thanks awkward but sincere.

It was no mystery whose child went to the hospital, clinging to life. Katherine didnt deny anything, allowing the police to cuff her without protest. Leaving the block, she glanced at Greg, quiet by the doorway.

Monster

Valerie bristled: Youre the last to talk!

But Katherine didnt flinch.

Im the monster, Greg… Not you. Thank you.

She was led off, while Greg stood unmoving, watching her vanish down the street.

Curious neighbours crept around, whispering, questioning, but for the first time no one avoided Greg, nor looked at him with disgust. For once, they met his eyes, seeing something theyd never seen before.

Greg, why are you out here? A warm hand brushed his cheekit was Anna. Waiting for me?

Anna, remember how you always said fate would find me? Greg turned to her, and suddenly smiled. Everyone nearby was stunned by the warmth and radiance in his face.

I remember. Why?

It has! Greg grabbed his sisters hand. Come on!

Where, Greg?

Not sure. Lets ask Valerieshe knows where they took the baby.

Who, Greg? Anna, bewildered, hurried after her brother, unaware fatedeciding shed neglected this family long enoughhad more plans for them.

Anna would have a son. She and her husband would train as foster parents and prove that in their big, warm home, there was plenty of room for another child. She would not rest until shed held the baby as Greg once had.

And Greg would find a family of his own. Visiting the child, hed meet Annas neighbour, and shed see in him what Anna had always seen.

A light. Not a blinding glare, but a warm, gentle glow, ready to shield and comfort those who noticed it.

Years later, a cheeky little boy would peer into a cot

Uncle Greg, is she your daughter?

Yes.

Is she sleeping?

Yes.

When shes bigger, can we play together?

Of course!

Good! Ill tell Mum Ive got another sister now!

The boy would lightly touch the babys tiny fist, grin, and nod to some secret thought of his own.

Rate article
Add a comment

;-) :| :x :twisted: :smile: :shock: :sad: :roll: :razz: :oops: :o :mrgreen: :lol: :idea: :grin: :evil: :cry: :cool: :arrow: :???: :?: :!:

The Monster
“I’ve Already Packed Your Things,” Said the Husband “Son, why do you need a girl like her?” his mum pleaded, trying to talk him out of marriage. “I love her!” he replied, bewildered. “You’ll suffer with her! She only thinks of herself!” Pretty blonde Lucy decided to give her husband a right royal gift for their fifth wedding anniversary. And who ever said all blondes are dim? Show me that person! Lucy—Lucienne, as her husband called her—thought rather highly of her intellect, and wanted to prove it to Alex with this gift. Though, truth be told, he already adored his lovely wife. They’d been married five years—just in time for their first proper milestone and this special surprise. Nothing extraordinary about their meeting: mutual friends invited them to a birthday party. They danced the night away, he walked her home, got her number, they started dating—and now they were celebrating five happy years together. Though beautiful Lucienne found her husband a tad boring these days. And every problem starts somewhere: a woman sits home, gets bored… Alex did work a lot: there was barely any time or energy left for chats. His wife preferred not to wear herself out: her attempts at being an influencer didn’t count! So he alone kept their little household afloat. Lucienne’s influencer gig earned zilch—no matter how much she posted semi-dressed selfies, nobody was in a hurry to subscribe. Let’s face it, the web’s full of that sort of thing! People had better things to do than ogle a pretty bum. So what? Just a bum. Big deal! Still, she persisted, seeking the perfect angle and lighting: thus her days passed. Of course, such herculean work involved breaks for shopping, brunches, beauty treatments, and self-improvement. In short, the everyday story of a modern beauty who kindly allows her partner to share in her glory. Alex loved his wife; we love not for reasons but despite them. And he was no fool—he saw everything! The failed influencer career, the self-importance, the reluctance to do anything but stroke her own ego. So what? That’s his Lucienne. You love someone, cracks and all! “Son, why her?” his mum would say. “I love her!” he protested. “She only cares about herself!” Mum was being silly: what did she mean, self-obsessed? She’s perfectly normal! Can’t find a job after uni, but lots of graduates can’t! There’s nothing suitable—she’s not working as a delivery girl, is she? Besides, his salary was more than enough! When they decide to have a baby, he’ll sort it out. So mum dropped her complaints. Their five-year anniversary rolled round: hooray! Each had a gift: he gave her pretty diamond earrings; she gave him—ta-da!—a top-of-the-range dashcam! With high-def video and microphone: “Here, darling! Don’t say I don’t get tech!” They celebrated in style at a restaurant; he was impressed: “You’re brilliant!” His mates, and their wives, shot envious glances: “You’re lucky with your missus, mate!” Especially his old school friend Barry, whose wife wasn’t exactly a looker… Lisa basked in the attention: she’d really shown them all! This wasn’t boring thermal undies, not even a wallet with initials! Good luck trying to top me, she thought. The party was over, life returned to normal, and Alex started thinking about a baby. But Lucy decided to seriously pursue “self-improvement” with new in-person courses—online wasn’t cutting it! “I’ll be going to proper classes!” she told him over takeaway pizza, pouting her expertly plumped lips. “You’ll pay, won’t you, darling?” “Of course, sweetheart!” the loving Alex replied. How could he say no? Classes twice a week, daytime—convenient, while he was at work. Who knew if she’d ever use it, but at least she was busy; idle hands and all that… He felt a bit embarrassed in front of his mum. He was happy enough, but his mother’s eyes seemed to say, “Is *that* your wife?” Never cooks or cleans—they hired help, or Alex did it himself. Even laundry: “I can never remember those silly buttons, darling!” Mum suffered in silence. Just like in those British short stories, where the son does the chores while the wife does nothing. Reminds you of something out of Alan Bennett. Anyway, Alex was fine with it! When she finished studying, they’d finally get round to the main event: a baby. They’d have their own little girl, in a sunhat and tiny shoes. The wife finished one course, signed up for another: “I want to, I want to!” Alex caved again and paid, though Lucienne’s “perfection” was getting a bit much. But they were only 27 and 30—plenty of time! People keep having babies later and later these days. Christmas, everyone’s favourite holiday, was coming up. Alex was in high spirits—they planned to celebrate with Barry and his wife. He needed to check something on the dashcam—maybe delete the files. Instead, he found footage: his best mate Barry and Lucy, going at it full throttle on the back seat—during her “classes.” Repeatedly. Audio too, for good measure! Later, they laughed about their spouses: Lucy mocked Alex’s kissing skills, Barry moaned about his wife. Turns out, Alex wasn’t “up to world standards” in that department. The devastation was total. She’d always seemed happy in bed. Had she lied about that, too? And Barry? Seriously? Forgetting about the dashcam? It was Alex’s car, after all! Turns out, she’d been carrying on with his best friend, right under his nose, for the best part of a year. And Barry wanted to welcome in the New Year together! What has the world come to? Just like something out of a classic short story. Shattered, Alex awaited Lucy’s return; she was out with her girlfriends. She came home, cheerful: “Darling, Tanya’s found me another course! Imagine the new horizons!” Alex stared in silence, thinking, Mum was right—why her? All her “horizons” had already been well and truly explored. “You’re not even listening!” she pouted. “Did you even hear me?” “Yes, about how I can’t kiss properly!” Alex replied. Lucy froze, then softly asked, “Where did you get that?” “Your chat with Barry, your little darling!” Her face turned scarlet with shock—how did he find out? “I think, since I’m not up to the mark, we should part ways,” he said coldly. “Your things are already packed—off you go, to where your self-improvement will be truly appreciated.” “Alex, I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “It just… happened!” “Really? For a year? Did you slip, fall and accidentally do all that, every week?” For once, Alex looked truly frightening. “And thank you for the dashcam,” he added. “If not for your gift, I’d have been a fool forever.” “Dashcam?” she sniffled. “What does that have to do with it?” “It records everything, Lucy! Even here, it works!” Alex quoted the advertising jingle. So—that’s how he knew. “God, what now? He’ll never forgive me—nor will Barry. Oh, God, help!” she thought, though she didn’t believe in God. No help came. Despite her pleading and tears, Lucy was sent straight out the door, bags and all, onto the landing. Lucy vanished into the dusk of Christmas Eve. Where to? Who knows. Probably her mum in her pokey flat across town. Alex later sent the full video to his “best mate.” He was tempted to send it to Barry’s wife, too, but decided not to stir more trouble. Let them sort it out. Barry tried to call and explain, but Alex blocked him: “You brought it on yourself!” So ended another year, on the saddest of notes. They divorced; nothing to divide. The flat and car were Alex’s; Lucy had no money, and little hope of earning any soon. Frankly, with her “talents,” there were only certain places she’d fit in… That New Year, Alex celebrated with his mum; everywhere else he’d have to put on a brave face, and he just couldn’t yet. In the end, Lucy did prove herself clever—her actions totally changed Alex’s life, for the better. But that… is another story. People say the world doesn’t change. But it does, and only classics—like the stories of Alan Bennett—truly last.