There’s a Monster in You, Too
We're always so quick to see the monsters lurking in everyone else around us, never realizing that what we see is a reflection of ourselves.
It had been nineteen years since Steven had been here. Now that he was, he wished he had never come.
The last day of that long ago summer was now vivid in his memory. As dusk had fallen, the breeze had carried the smell of popcorn, the air had been awash with brilliant colored lights, and above it all was the calliope music of the carousel. He had watched with wonder as those magical porcelain steeds paraded up and down, flashing past the elusive brass ring. He had only been seven that year, but he had been enchanted by this place. He could remember watching the teenage boys spend all their money trying to win teddy bears for their girlfriends, and he remembered how grown-up he had felt when his mom let him ride the Ferris Wheel alone. That had been a magical night.
Until he met the gypsy woman, that was.
She was the oldest woman Stevie had ever seen, and her wrinkled face scared him. He tried to sneak past the little fortune-telling booth, but she had whipped her hand out like a snake and grabbed his wrist. He had felt the iron strength of her grip, and she pulled him close, whispering a single sentence: "I will be here, when you come back." Her voice had been rough, like sandpaper on wet wood. One of her eyes had been a shimmering electric blue, the other was cloudy and gray. She stared into his face from beneath an overhanging hooded brow, and then grinned at him, exposing one very long canine tooth behind cracked white lips.
Stevie had felt his testicles try to crawl up inside his belly. He had pulled his hand from the old crone's grasp and run crying, all the way back to his mother's side. He wouldn't be consoled, and she had finally relented and taken him home.
Over the years he had actually forgotten about that day, at least on the top of his mind, where normal, sane Steven lived. Somewhere deep inside though, Stevie remembered. He had avoided carnivals, and even fairs, ever since.
He stared up at the window at the top of the old fun-house.
This place was supposed to be deserted, and from the looks of it, should be condemned. Weeds grew rampant through the cracked asphalt, and the rusting skeleton of the Ferris wheel stood like a museum dinosaur, watching over the crumbling remains of the roller-coaster. The carousel was gone, and this fun-house was the only building left standing; it's doorways showed only dark caves where doors used to hang. Above the faded, peeling words on the front was a single window, in which glowed a feeble light. As Steven watched, a shadow crossed that window, where none should be.
From somewhere within the old building, came that same gravelly sand-paper voice. "I knew you'd come back to me."
Steve tried to run, but his feet wouldn't obey. Instead, he found himself walking toward the open door in front of him. Horrified, he realized that he could just make out two eyes in the gloom, one cloudy gray and one electric blue.
© 2018 - dustygrein
In these halls
Like my outstretched hands
Not quite touching the walls
Pure, young, bold
Packed with stories untold
Of the bellowing laugh of a man
As he races across acres of pristine land
Now I return
And I’m horrified to see
That nothing is
As it used to be
A shell of a house
Lost in the wood
hidden under her hood
There are monsters that live here
Under the floor
Writhing and thriving
So unlike before
Time is a monster
For making it so
Or am I the monster
For letting it go?
The worst monsters find shelter
Where they will never be found
The scariest monsters I have ever dealt with
Reside in my own head
No one can see or hear them
No one ever has any idea they’re there
But I know
I have never seen them
But I’ve heard them
Loud and clear
I know they’re there
They won’t allow me to forget
They have access
To the deepest, darkest corners of my mind
They know exactly what to say
To keep me up at night
Being too afraid to sleep
They let me know
They are never leaving
So, I’ve gotten used to their cruel words
I’ve gotten used to being unconfident
I don’t remember what it was like
To not constantly have someone
Pointing out every little thing you do wrong
I have to live like this now
Because I don’t know
How to fight monsters
A History With Monsters
I grew up with them.
They would keep me awake long after seeing them.
I would scream at their deformed shapes,
their sinister looks,
and the way they carried themselves,
gave fear a new meaning in my life.
They came from all walks of life,
all sizes, all shapes,
and some would change before my eyes,
while others would see me cringe in total fear.
I want to drink your blood one said to me,
his eyes becoming evil and hypnotic.
Another would crookedly walk in my direction,
a twisted grin on his face,
uttering unintelligible words
as he slowly tried to grab at me.
Another, seemingly innocent and free from harm,
changed his appearance,
becoming hideous, snarling;
his thirst for blood only second,
to nearly ripping my heart from my chest,
and when he missed his opportunity,
he would cry out,
howling his anger to the night’s moon.
There were many creatures that live in the dark,
all of them monsters,
all of them I would believe,
were after only me.
Even now, before I retire this evening,
I will lock all my doors and windows,
have the kerosene nearby,
the garlic on the nightstand,
and my gun loaded with six silver bullets.
Even now, I take no chances.
They are out there;
Everywhere There Be Monsters
Monsters hiding the closet
Monsters underneath the bed
Monsters crawling out of the faucet
Monsters screaming in my head
Monsters with tails and an eye
Monsters with a crooked smile
Monsters that make the kiddies cry
Monsters wreaking havoc per mile
Monsters exist all around
Monsters can be real or fake
Monsters appear to you without sound
Monsters are the beings we make
#poetry #short #micropoem #monsters
starting with a monster...
and ending with you
I will dine with the devil
I will make him smile
there will be nods
and deceitful smiles
I will linger my fingers over his
in the most provocative of ways
there will be stares
there will be glares
I will lure him with my tongue
and bite my lip
I will play my role
until all is done
I will do that now
and each day
until the world is through
only so when the diner is done
I can leave hell behind
making it just a memory
a whisper of sorts
a heavy breath
on a heated skin
and reaching freedom's door
no longer dining with the devil
but finding my way to you
always to you
People are the true monsters,
Their words stuck in your head,
Their actions striking your stomach,
There are no monsters under beds.
See behind the masks,
We are all monsters,
And are not hiding.
We cannot help being monsters,
But monsters can be good or bad,
What do you choose?
It is up to you.
Who can guarantee which one is scarier?
Someone once told me 'Everyone loves differently'. And it made me think why should the way in which someone fears be any different. Then I realized, it's not. You're afraid of the dark. For you a monster is a creature with creepy yellow eyes and huge claws that will scratch your feet as soon as you put them outside the blanket. I, on the other hand, am afraid of falling in love with someone who won't love me as much. Whose love will eventually fade away. For me the charm in your brown eyes is a monster. But who's to say which one is scarier and more dangerous?