Dear Monster

February 21, 2008
By Christopher Ding, Rochester, MI

Dear Monster,

They say your kind lives only in the seas, but I swore I saw you among overgrown cattails in the river behind the house. Perhaps you, being so far from your maritime home, were too timid to announce yourself in such a strange place.

But there you were; each time I went down to those muddy banks you sat foolishly behind rocks or grass thinking yourself hidden. Though we never exchanged looks, you were too obvious; your breath blew leaves against my back, your head blocked out the sun from time to time, and your clumsy movements radiated waves that destroyed the mud cities I built amongst the shores. But I too simply sat, feet buried in cold silt beneath the shallow waters, passively entertaining your childish games.

One day you left. Some say you finally found your way home, but I chance it had more to do with jealousy…

Education came home with me that day in her gray dress and together we sat by the river. I admit I could not resist her perfect curves and the power she offered. We never spoke, but with her I was, as they say, “complete;” this universe, once replete with enigma now seemed so simple and revealed through the heavenly abyss of her black eyes. In your absence, our romance bloomed amongst the wind, clouds, and current that took your place.

But lately, we have taken to loathing one another. Oft do I watch as she sits stone-like amongst her thoughts, pondering everything and nothing at the same time; she sees the sun, the power it lends all the world and its things, but dismisses the motherly caress it once afforded my mud cities, whose ruins lie dead and forgotten in her unforgiving shadow. She has placed herself atop this mountain of logic whose ascension I, so apparently crude in my worship of her intricacies and fastidiousness, am denied.

So now, I ask that you return, for even she could benefit from your company.

Yours Truly,

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book