A Monster That Couldn't Love - A Monster Lovers short story Read online



  Emari Valdicar’s

  A Monster That Couldn't Love

  a Monster Love short

  MonsterLoveSeries.com

  Published by EV Productions

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2013

  License Notes:

  Warning: This book is edited for young adults, it may contain drug use and mild language. Reader is advised.

  Grammatical errors are intentional and are based on a fictional character in "To Love a Monster".

  ***********************

  Love hurts.

  But it's worth the pain.

  ************************

  Dawkness. Ma eyes aw closed. De smell a deaf's all ova me. Vampyas. Dam. Ma wrists aw tied. I cannot move. Ma face, numb from de beatin' I got from an ol' friend. I struggle ta open ma eyes, dey aw shut, swollen. I can feel de silva collaw burnin' ma neck. Wea aw dey takin' me?

  I hea de beatin' a drums, dey signal de stawt a sumdin'. Is dis de way ma life's gonna end? I got no enagy ta fite. But I's gotta stay awake! I cannot go out like dis! Dink a anydin'. Ma name. Wat’s ma name? Giovanni Buio. I’s gotta twin broda. Giorgio. He dead now. Ma broda’s best friend. Sebastian. He captchad too. No give up Gio. Fite de pain. I gotta get out a dis hell. How? Open yo' eyes!

  No freakin' way! Dea aw a crapload a vampyas out dea. Ma lifes at an end. An' I memba ma talk wit Sebastian back in de cage...

  I

  Lost and Found

  "I memba ma muda holdin' ma hand, ma fada held ma broda’s. We's on an elevata headin' ta a fancy restarant wea youse cud see de entia New York skyline. Den suddenly de lites flickad an' de metal walls shook, people nest ta us scream fo' help. We held each oda, hopin' ids all a dream, til de fiafiteas open de elevata daws. Dats wen I let go a ma muda’s hand. Fiafiteas help me out a de elevata, ma bros nest. As soon as he out a de elevata, it drop, cables wizzin', sendin' ma folks ta dea deafs. “Momma!” I cry an' cry. Afta a wile I stap cryin’. I no momma wood neva agin answa me. I den hawd ma broda’s faint cry in de dense smoke. Mo' tremors follow an' dat make it hawd ta run. I grabs Giorgio’s hand an' we heads down a stais, windas breakin’ all ova us. I lost ma broda among de mad crowd a people wantin' ta save demselfs. It den dat I no I's alone. I follows a group a survivas inta de stais. Den das mo' esplochuns an' I run as a wave a dust sweep me off ma feet an' all de crys wa gone. I ends up alone, covad in a gray dust."

  Sebastian wanna no how I became a weawulf.

  “Is a long stary,” I says ta him, not wantin' ta memba dat day. He says we gots time. So I go on talkin'.

  "I put ma feet in de sand. It felt wawm between ma toes. Make me memba dose times mom an' dad took Giorgio an' me ta Great Kills Pawk aw summa place ta go swimmin’. Afta lookin’ at de black skys fo' awas, I see an oval shape an' I walks tawads it, it look like a socca ball til it stawts ta move, a head wid no body. It crys as I did. An' den it spot me, so I hid behind a wall, pokin’ ma head in an out a ma hidin’ place.

  "I must be in hell!", de head crys.

  "I's ain't ol' enuff ta go ta hell," I says, "I's only ten yeas ol', almost eleven."

  "Good point," says de cryin’ head.

  "Did youse lose yo' moms too?", I asks it, lookin’ down at de sand, not at its wadawy eyes.

  "No... I's lookin' fo' family," it says. "Wats yo' name?", de head den asks.

  "Ma name’s Gio", I ansad.

  "I am Kaladruv", says de head, coffin’ up blood."

  Sebastian asks if it de same guy dat want him dead.

  Same one, I says.

  "Aw youse an alien?", I asks Kaladruv, curious bout him havin no body. "Neva seen a talkin' head wid yella eyes befo'."

  Kaladruv toll me he ain't an alien, an' confess I's slowly dyin'. Said I's bleedin' an' dat ma minds leavin' me. He ofawd ta help me.

  I den saw maself as I is, lyin’ on de ashes a bones, numb from da pain, dead bodies all ova me. De smell a burnin’ flesh in de air. Kaladruv's wrinkly an' bald, his yella eyes glowin' in de dusty cloud.

  “Do youse wish ta live?” Kaladruv asks me.

  I nod ta de bald man, wantin’ de chance ta see ma bro agin.

  “Den give me yo' hand,” he ordad, his frail awm go tawads me.

  Wen I lifts ma rite hand, he lean fowad an' bit it. Sumdin' bubblin' inside ma hand, I cud feel it changin’ me. Kaladruv says dat we wood see each oda soon an' den he gone. I's pass out from de pain.”

  II

  First years

  "I's livin' in de street fo' a yea, no clue wens ma next meal. Ate wateva I cud find, rats, dogs, an' gawbage. Wen I turn twelf de changes stawt. Ma body wood shake, it painfull, an' it got worse, I woke up in oda places covad in blood. I be missin' awas, even days. Til I ends up in a group home, dey calls it Boys Asylum. On ma awival dea, de Headmasta hand me sum clodes ta wea, tawn rags pass down from de oda boys. I sleep in a long shirt dat ain't long enuff. Dat nite an olda boy name Jude come ta ma cot, callin' me Sweetcheeks, den beat me. I closes ma eyes, imaginin’ maself in anoda place, a place wea I ain't in pain. Dis wen on fo' a yea."

  "On ma durteent birdday, I jogs wid de group a Jude's boys knowin’ dat I ain't safe. Once we's in de woods alone, de boys cornad me inta a tree, ma face slapt agin an' agin. Da's no one dea ta help me. Jude says he let me go. But I's mad enuff, so I break his nose an' scratch him bad. Blood squirtin' all ova de grass. I ran off an neva look back."

  It make sense ta Sebastian now. Da reason Jude been huntin' me. He got wat he desavd. De way he treat me. Is ma mistake doh. Ma broda be alive now if I not done dat ta him.

  "I's back in de streets afta dat. Back den I gots no clue wats happenin' ta me. Do I gotta disease? Deas no one ta help me dru de changes I's facin’. So I stawts smokin' weed, ta ease de pain. But I gotta hustle ta get it. Den a few munds lata I saw Kaladruv agin, crossin' de street wid his new pack. Deys out huntin' de homeless, de ones dat aw neva miss. An' wen we saw each oda, I no de ol' man saw me. I cud hea his wispas in ma head, tellin' me ta go wid him. I's so out a it, dat ma minds hawd ta control, so he left me alone. An' I's agin livin' in de streets, on ma own."

  Sebastian an' me sits down an' talks, ignorin' de men ova us.

  "Dis one guy, Lite Hawt, he like ta dress up as a girl. He took me in, gave me food an' shelta in a motel. Trys ta keep me safe. Had all dez mad rules like he ma muda. But I's a junkie back den an' he ain't keepin' me safe. I wen out an' sold ma body fo' drugs."

  "I lata figad out dat ma attacks wa mo' dan jus a disease, its a gift. I’s a weawulf, fasta an' stronga even as a human. Soon I's huntin' an' live off de pavs dat walk de dawk alleys a New York City.”

  Sebastian make faces like he no how a human taste like. Just like chicken.

  “I gew up fast. Ta survive in dis world youse must adapt o' youse die.”

  Sebastian asks how ol' I's at de time. Toll him I neva looks ma own age. Dat de hawd life out dea make me age fasta. "I’s fo'teen, on tap a de food chain an' de Big Apples ma feedin’ ground.”

  Sebastian’s hands on mine. Said he sorry fo' wat happen ta me.

  “Its de past. No worry bout it, ain't yo fault,” I says ta him.

  Sebastian asks me how it feels ta take a life.

  I looks him in de eyes. "Youse neva forget ya first."

  III

  Sins

  “Ma second mistakes Kula, a street girl from Manhattan. She on Williamsbug Bridge, ma place ta sleep, an from de shadows I saw ha wit an olda man. From de looks a it, she good lookin', wit ha long, purple haia. Even wid de rain I cud smell ha rotten flesh. She a vampya. Den de stranga gave ha sum c
ash an he goes ta de surface. Kula walks by, an' in a flash she on tap a me. She too strong, I coulda stap ha, but at fiteen youse always, youse no. Den I lost control a de monsta inside a me. Ma minds gone. Sumhow I's on tap a ha, ha heads tawn off.”

  Sebastian looks at me, skead, if he only no ma oda sins.

  “Dats one kill I wish I cud take back,” I tells him. Sebastian ask why.

  “Cuz a me Huntas dead,” I says. It still hawd ta talk bout Hunta widout flashes a his face wit his moud an' eyes wide open, dead. Sebastian says I's no need ta talk mo'. But it sorta helps wen I talk bout it.

  "It a yea lata wen I met Hunta. I's sixteen. Early winta, cuz' I's memba wamin’ ma hands in a trash can fia at de Fia Pits, a place wea olda gay men go. He butiful ta look at: Chocolate skin, tall, mad shouldas, an' hawd abs. He woa a camo vest wid tite leada jeans. Hunta look at me wid his hazel eyes. I got inta his black BMW. De seats became wawm wid ma tauch. I neva been in such a nice caw befo'. We talks, found out he five yeas olda dan me, a foma football playa from NYU. He spoke weird, fast an' loud, mumblin' at times. We gets ta his house, a condo in Battay Pawk. He slams me inta his sofa, an' pulls ma haia back. He put two a his fingas inta ma moud an I sucks on ‘em, tryin’ ta calm de monsta inside a