Sta.sh
The monsters want blood.
I don't want that.
But I do...
What do I want? Can one of you help me? None of the monsters help very much--they all tell me that killing is for the best and that if I don't continue it, they'll kill me. I know that you think I'm crazy, but I'm not.
Monsters
are
real.
They're real and among us. One in five people is a monster like me--or at least a monster-in-hiding. Psychopaths and sociopaths and schizophrenics and sadist lurk all around you. There could be one in your family, someone who leers over you in your sleep just wondering how your head would look on a stick, wanting to make a lamp or a couch or a suit out of your lovely, creamy skin.
I know I do. I like to watch you sleep. The monsters like it too.
I could just reach out and stroke that soft, flawless skin of yours or pet your hair or lick your ear or insert my knife into your throat and cut off that button-cute little nose that lets out those gentle little breaths. I wish I could, but then you'd wake up and I'd have to run before you called the police.
But it'd be worth it. You aren't the only one I watch. I watch lots more. Like you. And you. And you, with the freckles. And you with the short, blonde hair and the friend named George. I watch him too. He snores, did you know that?
Well.
He did snore.
That stopped last night.
At least, it should have. I don't know.
Can you snore without a larynx?Please tell me. If you can, I have some work to do.
And you, you who thinks they're safe from my prying eyes. You aren't. The monsters tell me to ravage you, you know that? I'm speaking now to the girl with the brown hair. They tell me to ravage you and to make you scream for your life.
But I don't. The other monsters say it's not your birthday yet. We must wait for that present.
You know what I like most of all? Heavy sleepers. They don't wake to see the effervescent light reflecting in my eyes or my spindly fingers caressing their cheeks. And I've only had one wake up to me smelling their hands, three to the licking.
But I digress.
It's probably past your bedtime, is it not?
Hurry on, get to sleep...
I can't come out until you do. (:
I like the almost childish, incredibly casual and friendly way the character speaks to me. I just absolutely adore how he speaks of bloody murder and inhumane torture like planning to flirt with the pretty girl from the laundromat--someone I suppose he is also watching. The sparse, perfect little bits of detail like the rich material of that dream couch or that cute little memento he wants was chilling AND adorable.
The bit about George was hilarious. I like how he ponders if postmortem snoring was a thing after slicing open his larynx. The mental image of him puzzling over the dying man as his death-gurgles sound suspiciously like water-logged snores was hilarious.
The "Hannibal" letter was the perfect finisher. It gave me chills and I just love how playfully he speaks. It's all just a game for him, isn't it? We're like little kiddies with puppy love crushes, except instead of giving awful hand-drawn crayon drawings, melted chocolate, and limp ruined daisies, he gives us nightmares, paranoia, and death.
You've helped me here a thousand times more than I think you initially realized and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR IT!!
I'm so glad you enjoyed it C: This piece honestly frightened me in the process of writing it, which is uncommon for me. It shows me, though, how I should write in future; using my own fears to better the work.
Thank you again!
Yeah, that was actually a last-minute idea, but I'm glad I included it. Adds a little something ^^
And just for the record, I know that basically 99% of people with schizophrenia are completely harmless, I just included it for the sake of not being able to think of anything else XD