The last firework of the display was the loudest and the biggest, spreading out to form a huge chrysanthemum shape, its petals blurring against and then fading into the night sky.
Sated by the spectacle, and yet disappointed that it had come to an end, I shuffled my then-tiny feet around, took my father’s hand and began the walk across the park back to the car.
As we went I started off, still high on adrenaline, chatting excitedly about what I’d just witnessed, telling my parents which had been my favourite, imitating their sounds and throwing my spare arm around in demonstration.
Before long, though, my gesticulations became less and my speech slowed until my father picked me up and I fell asleep in his arms, the excitement and the night finally catching up with me.
I came round as my father was strapping me into my car seat, then again as he lifted me out, and one last time as he tucked me into my little bed. I was so happy then that I forgot all my apprehensions. My father smiled down at me whispered, “Goodnight, little man,” and I drifted off for the night.
Nothing was ever the same again.
As I slept the monster came and changed everything.
My parents would later say that it was a miracle I didn’t wake while the monster arrived but I never really understood their relief because when I woke it was there and has never left. It dogged my mother, clinging to her, keeping her from me. I withdrew from her and then father when he also chose to ignore the monster’s presence, smiling at it and trying to me to draw near.
I lived a solitary life from then on, avoiding the monster at all costs by playing with my toys in my room. With my parents in cahoots I could only hope to defeat the monster through my own childhood games. Every so often my parents would look in concerned, try and coax me close to the monster but I stayed firm.
In time the monster grew, it began to crawl and then walk, leaving my mother’s side for longer periods of time. Slowly I knew it would soon be time to strike, to win mastery over it, maybe even destroy it.
I made my move in the summer at the leisure centre. The monster was toddling past me at speed in the shallowest part of the pool, excited in his disgusting little way about something stupid. I put out my leg and tripped him. He fell face first into the half centimetre of water and onto the tiled floor with a dreadful smack.
As I saw the water redden and heard the monster’s cry I realised for the first time this creature was human. For the first time I felt something toward it, helping it up, looking about desperately for my mother or father because I had done something bad and my brother needed help.
I still call him a monster, still even recall my earliest days with fondness, but I was never so cruel to him again and we managed to grow up to be great friends. Probably because he was too young to remember the time I believed him to truly be a monster.
Sated by the spectacle, and yet disappointed that it had come to an end, I shuffled my then-tiny feet around, took my father’s hand and began the walk across the park back to the car.
As we went I started off, still high on adrenaline, chatting excitedly about what I’d just witnessed, telling my parents which had been my favourite, imitating their sounds and throwing my spare arm around in demonstration.
Before long, though, my gesticulations became less and my speech slowed until my father picked me up and I fell asleep in his arms, the excitement and the night finally catching up with me.
I came round as my father was strapping me into my car seat, then again as he lifted me out, and one last time as he tucked me into my little bed. I was so happy then that I forgot all my apprehensions. My father smiled down at me whispered, “Goodnight, little man,” and I drifted off for the night.
Nothing was ever the same again.
As I slept the monster came and changed everything.
My parents would later say that it was a miracle I didn’t wake while the monster arrived but I never really understood their relief because when I woke it was there and has never left. It dogged my mother, clinging to her, keeping her from me. I withdrew from her and then father when he also chose to ignore the monster’s presence, smiling at it and trying to me to draw near.
I lived a solitary life from then on, avoiding the monster at all costs by playing with my toys in my room. With my parents in cahoots I could only hope to defeat the monster through my own childhood games. Every so often my parents would look in concerned, try and coax me close to the monster but I stayed firm.
In time the monster grew, it began to crawl and then walk, leaving my mother’s side for longer periods of time. Slowly I knew it would soon be time to strike, to win mastery over it, maybe even destroy it.
I made my move in the summer at the leisure centre. The monster was toddling past me at speed in the shallowest part of the pool, excited in his disgusting little way about something stupid. I put out my leg and tripped him. He fell face first into the half centimetre of water and onto the tiled floor with a dreadful smack.
As I saw the water redden and heard the monster’s cry I realised for the first time this creature was human. For the first time I felt something toward it, helping it up, looking about desperately for my mother or father because I had done something bad and my brother needed help.
I still call him a monster, still even recall my earliest days with fondness, but I was never so cruel to him again and we managed to grow up to be great friends. Probably because he was too young to remember the time I believed him to truly be a monster.
Written for the Light and Shade Challenge from the following picture prompt:
Poor monster - and poor you - lovely telling of a family moment.
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