The World's Most Beautiful Monster Ch. 1

‘I never knew what life was until it ran out in a red gush over my lips, my hands.’





“Life is a ticket to the greatest show on Earth,” she said for the third time that day, cocking her head to the side and winking at me.



Yeah right. Maybe one of those shows that your parents force you to go to when you’re little, just so you can fidget around in an uncomfortable seat for two hours, wondering why you had to come just because one of your non-too closely related family members was taking a minor role.



“Then why aren’t there enough seats?” I replied, looking at her in my usual un-amused way.



She frowned, resting her tanned hands against her hips.



“What makes you say that?”



“Well, there isn’t enough space for everyone on the Earth, right? So why do they give everyone a ticket. Surely it’s over-booked. Some people will have to stand to watch the show.”



She paused, her forehead wrinkling slightly in thought, before laughing and shaking her head at me.



“You always like to rain on my parade, boy,” she chuckled, hitting me with the dirty towel she was just using to dry her hair.



Sonia was my mother. Well, as close as I was ever going to get to a mother-like figure. Now that I think about it, she was only about ten years older than me. She had no wrinkles on her skin, and her –insanely thick- hair was long and dark, hanging over her shoulders, with some strands falling around her face messily, as usual. Her eyes were dark like her hair, and there was always something about them that I couldn’t quite put my finger on; something almost animalistic.



I stepped out of the trailer next to her, my hands in my pockets, onto the sand –we lived in the middle of nowhere, in a desert like place of which I did not know the name-



“Do you think they’ll be coming by today?” I asked, spitting onto the ground over my shoulder and running my tongue across my lips to wet them. The atmosphere was very dry.



She hit me again with the towel.



“Don’t spit on the floor, boy. I don’t care if it’s a habit you’ve had all of your life; you live with me now.”



She always called me boy, ever since I first met her. I still don’t know why. I never asked.



“Anyway, short answer, yes, I do think they’ll be coming by today. In which case, you should probably stay out of the way. He might be with them, Michael.”



She never used my name unless she was serious about something. She looked over my shoulder.



“Go back into the trailer.”



She pushed me back inside the tiny, tin can of a vehicle, shutting the door in my face.

Had she seen something? D-does that mean they’re coming? What should I do? I knew this day would come eventually, but I suppose I didn’t think about what I was going to do when it did. Curse my damn laid back attitude to everything. I kneeled on the sofa –if you can call it a sofa- looking out of the tiny, plastic window, just in time to see a white, armoured vehicle pull up behind. The emblem on the side of the truck affirmed my worst fear; a gothic, black shield etched with a large, red ‘H’. Silver swords were crossed in front of it, with the text ‘Nocturna animalia peribit’, their slogan, printed onto the van below the emblem in bold lettering.



I ducked down onto the floor as I heard the doors of the truck slide open and click into place, and a number of footsteps on the ground.



“No, I’m afraid Michael isn’t here.”



“Then where is he?”



T...that voice.



A shiver ran down my spine briefly. Pull yourself together, Mikey, you can handle this. He isn’t worth the worry. Oh god someone’s coming towards the door. Since when did I call myself Mikey?



The door opened and...he...popped his head inside, looking at me and chuckling.



“Michael. It’s me.”



OH SHIT.