Creature
Let it out
There is something inside that screams. It scratches my entrails and chokes me every time I breathe. I try to control it, to smother it before it is too late, but I fear it will only empower it. I must not give in.
No, I am not OK. I am not happy and, strangely, I am not sad. I believe I should feel something, but I don’t. I nudge my feelings with a weak finger, and green gunk oozes from a slit in the void. My mind is blank; my voice reverberates within the hollow walls. WHO AM I?
I sometimes read books where protagonists barely escape a gruesome death or find the solution to a difficult problem. I imagine that they are intelligent — they must be since they survived so long in the book — and I fear that I may be missing something/IT.
Have you noticed how you do not see your nose in your day-to-day life? Our brains are quite intelligent in taking it out of the equation when it comes to our panoramic view. It feels that IT is right in front of me, before my nose, and I do not see IT; I cannot see it, and I am a pariah, shunned from the world. I am an outcast.
So it builds up inside until it feels I will burst. My chest will slit open, and my heart will be on a plate for all the world to see, to inspect, to prod with curious gazes and carefully chosen words. I’m at 80% right now.
When the Creature comes out, please be gentle. It hurts, and it bleeds, and it has seen many grey days and little happiness.
