Monsters

I am the monster of every story.

Do you see the Devil in me? Maybe you do, with the lenses you wear and the indoctrination you carry.

I am a free soul, who does not accept suggestions, and does what keeps me happy. Sounds monstrous? Isn’t it? How can someone be so isolated?

I guess even Devils do not want to be isolated. They look for people of their own ilk, or try to colour others’ point of view. I’m a little more monstrous than that. I don’t try to change anybody’s perspective. I just want to be left alone.

I continue to be the monster in their stories….

There might be a day when one of them is in trouble. If I sense that, and am capable of helping out, I offer a hand silently. To accept or not is entirely their prerogative. I see surprised reactions. Who, she…?

Then, I look at the monsters in my stories. Control freaks who try to impose ideas on others, refuse to see a point of view and demean others for being different.

I guess the twain shall never meet. There are monsters on both sides. They look like shapeshifters, because they are being reinvented and repainted depending on how stories have to flow.

I am still the monster —- just that I know monsters are people who are different from us.