| Even from fifty feet away
my green eyes can see the white paint peeling off the wooden shed door. Lock and hinges creak in desperate need of slick dark oil as I shed the dark interior with the warm rays of the sun. The monster sleeps silent still but always ready to prowl. I guide it out of the shed and into the grass and sun. I tend to the little red monster, starting to wake him from his slumber. A truck rumbles down the road out front and I quickly look around. The truck is gone, there is no one there, then to the starting line we go. Me saying to him, �A good day for murder. Wouldn�t you say so?� I grip the leash and pull the monsters tail. He gives a yell and roars to life ready and rarin� to go. We start off going north, at a steady, cheerful pace. It isn�t a race we run, instead it�s the murder of Earth�s face. We turn, go south, then turn and go north again, leaving shadowy lines, and green blood in our wake. His silvery teeth drip with blood, the rumble of his stomach numbs my hands, as we murder so many underneath the sun. South, north, another row of dead lies bloody in our wake. An hour has passed, our secret chore now done and with none left to kill, we make our way to the shed. I clean the monster delicately before tucking him into his bed. Locking the shed door, I turn and survey the damage. So many dead bodies, so much green blood, but the sweet smell of freshly cut grass makes me feel oh so very good. |
| Monster |
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