A thought-provoking literature piece on how humanity continuously segregates itself and brings it to the brink of extinction.
As the blood ran down the west walls of the haunted castle; beads of sweat began dripping from his face. The floor tilted and swayed under his feet, as he looked down.
Defeated. Spitting saliva, the monster finally came to his senses. For in reality, humanity was blind to the truth, for it was not a monster at all. In fact, the completely mistaken facade of one being evil and malevolent was but a simple misguided myth.
Ignorance, naivety and fear created gullible stories and half-truths. In that very seed of truth; they sought to marginalize one from society in the vain hope that they would somehow disappear. The matter of ‘why’- was of no substantial consequence.
Well, that is, in fact, a long story, fit for a fairy tale. Though, not a fairy tale at all. Not a tale to soothe a child to sleep in their loving mother’s arms, whispering sweet dreams.
This is a foreboding brooding tale of woe and impending doom that can never be shaken and ignored.
The monster was none other than a person, who developed an elaborate disguise. A being, whose purpose was to bring prosperity to the land it so dearly called home, and instead brought nothing but a monster.
Is this what it takes to be remembered? Is this what it takes to be part of a history, I so fondly remember? The story of a mighty town, now fractured and descending into oblivion?
A ghost town in its own right, for no one could fight the feeling of hopelessness.
An overwhelming omnipotent pressure that brought even the strongest to their knees.
For now, as I gaze upon the bright crimson sunset of the town I once called home. I finally understood.
The shattered remnants of my reign signalled my soul to leave. I must now move on, to a peaceful sunrise in a town far beyond.
A monster I am, but not because of my looks. I am no monster as they said I should be? Is it monstrous of me to believe I am not who they tell me to be?
The constant pervasive hum of ignorance and spite.
I am sorry, dear sir, for this pain sees no end. The spit that comes from my mouth is as venomous as you paint it to be.
Nevertheless, it is I who must succumb.
Why is it so meaningful, the way I look? Oh dear sir, please tell me so? Is it I who must succumb to a fate worse than what I’ve become?
I’m sorry, dear sir. For I shall not waver. If pain taught me anything at all, it is that true men never die; they live on in the memories of others.
But wait, I am no man, I represent what harrows the male ego. For I never was a man. I am in fact a powerful queen.
And the monster is I, a woman in her own right. For no one could conceive the simple fact that a woman, as I am, could rule with justice and prudence like a man.
I am no monster, oh no, dear sir. I am but a simple human being.
Therefore aren’t we all monsters? Isn’t the fact that we hate with such splendid ardour, enough to make us such?
I am no monster because of who I am.
I am a monster because of whom you have made me believe to have become.
I am a monster because of who you paint me to be.
Now watch, as the facade, I so carefully built crumbles and is turned to dust. Am I not your reckoning, the ghost that haunts your thoughts and dreams?
I showed you how to live a life. That you could be proud of! I was a caretaker for your needs and wants! Now you dare discriminate against me?
No one shall remember, for the old adage says; it is the winner that tells the tale.
As I am now reduced to ash and shadows; I gaze upon the fake horizon. Haematic as the sea of enemies my might vanquished. No! Sable as the scorch my fire produced.
I am no monster, no dragon or such. But I am a monster is my own right. Yet, wait, a monster am I, who’ll wallow in spite. For no one remembers me as more than one.
Aren’t we all monsters? Don’t we all hurt and succumb to the sins of life? Then why must I suffer for what I am?
Watch as we discriminate, segregate, marginalize and hate. We are all monsters.