My Monster

I wrote this for Wordstock this weekend, but didn't hear back from them regarding this entry, so I decided to put it on here, timeliness considered.

I attended various workshops and readings, and returned feeling empowered, if not a little woozy.



I shot straight up in bed. It was the first time I had done that since childhood and it was the first night I slept alone after my husband left me. I dreamt of a large man, wearing a too small bear suit. We were at a Barbeque and I walked away to pee, staring up at the stars, and when I turned around, there he was, squatting underneath the bushes, chicken on a skewer.

He began to dance by himself, swaying in the night breeze. His stance was stooped, pointing downward, and when he spoke the softest, deepest voice came out. The mask was unfamiliar, and had big, exaggerated domes for eyes, the buttons moving of their own accord, the nose interrupting the flow of fur that started at his feet. The shoulders were too tight, and had holes from where he had worn this outfit before. He spoke quite elegantly, and I thought of him as my beast, even going so far as to caress his furry arm, held in place by the layers of frayed duct tape underneath the worn fur suit. The fur was the color of an aged orangutan.

Agreeing to dance with him, still a little frightened, but vaguely thrilled, I looked up at his face, and saw a patch of hair behind his mask. When I reached out to grab it, his docile face became rabid, smooth lines became angular, and he began chasing me around the outskirts of the party, while my friends stared restlessly at the empty keg with grave disappointment. I made it ‘round the side of the house, and straight through the hedges out into the street, running as streets became more unfamiliar, twisting and turning into desolate avenues and freeways. They took on visages of streets Id known when I was married to my husband in New Mexico, and at night we’d go jogging down the streets. I saw him there, across the street, wandering into a convenience store. It was all white neon when I walked inside and was greeted by the Lawrence Welk music on the PA system.

“Clean up on Aisle Four”, the voice said, even though it was a tiny convenience store, and as I reached for the ice cream bar at the bottom of the cooler, sliding back the door and gazing into the pool, pulling out the biggest goldfish of the bunch, I dived in after seeing the blur of orange fur towards my back.
Swimming alone, the light from the convenience store fading away, I became awash in a teal-blue light, whose light source was unknown.

Breathing became difficult, and finally not an issue, for the monster was right there with me, and docile once again. His eyes now commanded by something stronger, he took off his mask, revealing the face of my ex- husband, crying, looking into my eyes and telling me, plainly, that there was no going home, that I was on my own, and how my love for him made him a monster.