The Monster

Claimed to be a ferocious beast

With teeth as sharp as blades,

A thick hide darker than pools of shadows,

Eyes redder than scarlet blood.

An evil rousing such fear that

Even among the bravest hearts

The name goes unsaid.

They say it lives in the depths of an abyss,

Always ready to strike.

To protect itself it maims, tortures and kills,

Often it does so simply out of spite.

It snarls and growls at its prey

Hunger and malice shine in its eyes.

A wicked cackle emanates from its throat

As it pounces and the claws pierce through the victim’s skin.

Screams and cries fill the air

Of a voice, never to be heard again.

For none who cross this creature’s path

Live to tell the tale.

It is hardly heard of today,

Maybe in stories made to frighten children

But that is all anyone ever says.

So sigh and wipe your brow in relief

For you cannot stumble upon a nonexistent danger.

This is of course just a story – isn’t it?

Maybe there isn’t a beast after all.

Or perhaps it lives under our very skin

The malice, anger and hunger slumbering within.

Our hearts are home to a terrible ferocity -

The creature, the beast,

The Monster.

Written by Ishita Kumar

Edited by Rayna Mukherjee

Illustrated by Sreetama Mondal