This has been the first real writing assignment that we have had so far. As the title states the assignment was pretty straight forward. I revised mine a few times because I was far too long winded. The instructions set a limit of 400 - 500 words and mine comes in somewhere around 950 words. Oh Well! It's a good story and I could not shorten it anymore. It is a true story about a moment of fear in my life. The moment is from when I was nine years old and I wrote it as such, for the most part. This story is called "My Monster and Me". There is the use of two "bad" words so consider yourself warned. If you choose not to read it because of that then you will be missing out. I am proud of this one. Here it is:
MY MONSTER AND ME
I
believe in monsters. Not the garden variety under the bed or closet type. I
mean real living, breathing monsters. The kind of monster that you never see
until it’s too late and when you try to tell someone, especially an adult, the
monster is gone before they see. People don’t acknowledge my monster because
it’s too damned difficult; too difficult to confront and too difficult to
believe. I’m only nine years old; I won’t be confronting it, I fight just to
survive living with it. When I tell an adult, I look like a fool. The monster
is gone and replaced by an angel in disguise; like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
So, yeah, I know monsters are real; hell, I live with one.
This
night had been especially difficult. I hadn’t seen my monster for weeks. I was
living with my angel and it was amazing, but tonight my monster came back with
a vengeance. Drugs and alcohol fueled my monster. My angel was sad all day; she
started drinking alcohol called Jack Daniels. No cup even. Just drinking right
from the bottle, which I could never do with milk or juice. Not if I new what
was good for me. I also knew, from spying on my monster, that the needles being
used and shared with other people’s monsters were not for insulin or diabetes
or whatever my monster chose to say when I caught her with them. I was also
aware of why there were burnt spoons in drawers in my monsters room. So, two
bottles later my monster returned and my angel was gone and all hell was
breaking lose. Everything was destroyed, EVERYTHING; from the shower glass door
to the T.V. to the dishware. Everything was flipped, shattered and thrown with
intense rage. Glass and debris was everywhere. I stayed hidden under couch
cushions in a corner because my monster was busy tonight. Tonight I was truly
frightened. Frightened and caged.
I
knew I had to leave when the time was right. I had already been winged by
random objects and caught a broom on the back until it broke in two. It was my
fault though. I got in the way. I tried conjuring up my own inner monster to
make a stand and I lost, as usual. I had to let my monster cycle through it.
Eventually it would run out of fuel and she would slumber like a giant. I
patiently waited for that slumber tonight like many nights before. In that time
of slumber I can talk to my monster without fear, but I don’t know if she hears
me in her moment of peace. Tonight there would be no talking. Tonight was a
night for running. The time came and I had to make my break, but the door is so
loud and heavy and the lock sticks. What if I try but can’t get the door open
before my monster catches me? What if the door easily opens this time and I can
be free of this mess and this fear, even if only for a night? What if I didn’t
believe in monsters? It didn’t matter; I had to try.
I
tip toed over and around glass and debris imagining it was a minefield and I
was G.I. Joe on Saturday morning. I peeked in at my monster and saw her
sleeping. No opportunity to soothe my monster as she slept. This was the
opportunity to make it out. I navigated the debris field back down the hallway
to the front door. My feet felt so large and heavy. I had made it to the door
but now my hands felt so small and my arms so short. I placed one hand on the
top lock and prayed that it would turn. My muscles felt weak as I turned the
lock. I could feel it locking up and not moving. I would have to jiggle it.
This would break the silence and risk waking my sleeping monster. I was so
frustrated and I began crying as I tried harder and harder to turn the lock.
Seconds seemed to turn to hours as my frustration grew. I’d had enough; I
wanted out so bad that I jiggled the lock hard and loud intentionally; all or
nothing. The jiggling seemed amplified as it echoed down the hall. Then I heard
it. The monster calling my name, but it was my first and middle together.
“Mitchell Wayne!” she roared. All I could think was “I’m fucked” as my tiny,
pounding heart sank and I felt crushed. I’m only nine but I knew I was just
that word even if I’m not supposed to say it. CRACK! The lock moved. I turned
the knob as I looked down the hall. My monster was coming to get me. I swung
the door hard to clear debris from in front of it as it opened and the door
could block the hallway. Before it was completely open I started running. I
felt like a cartoon with my feet moving in fast circles as I slowly moved
forward. I made it out just as my monster ran into the door slamming it shut
behind me. She was angry, but I was free. My monster gave chase, but I had made
it to the neighbors. They knew the truth and had given me a key to their
backdoor just for these moments. I would live to survive another night. I knew
I would have to go back eventually and that this would be just another night
with my monster and me, but tonight I was free. Tonight I could sleep without
being afraid of monsters.
The only words the professor could muster up initially were "that's heavy stuff, wow" as the rest of the class was silent. They appreciated the story and eventually came around to discussing the way in which it is written. It just took them a moment to push past the shock of it all. They also acknowledged the difficulty in sharing such a moment and expressed their gratitude. Awesome classmates at SFI!
I am glad I gained the courage to share this moment. For days I tried to come up with other moments but this one would not leave my thoughts. Now that it has been written I feel relieved of it. Film school as a very expensive therapy? Ha, no way! Well I hope you enjoyed. Look out for monsters, help those dealing with their own monsters and remember, be good peoples! By the way, I am a Bears fan, so those #monstersofthemidway are good monsters. Support the Chicago Bears with a #believeinmonsters hashtag this football season which is way too far away. Bear Down!
#chasethedream #filmschool #filmstudent #thestruggleisreal @SEAFilmStudent
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