I Found You

I couldn’t believe my eyes. The thing that killed my wife, a supposedly 7 feet tall and half as large monster. I searched for it for so long and it was finally here before me.

And it was just a little girl.

She was hiding behind a table in the corner of the room, shaking and looking at me like I was the Monster. But I knew what she was. She couldn’t fool me.

A black rag hung from her thin shoulders down to her knees. Nothing else. She looked like she slept outside in the streets, dirty as she was. Her hair was black, but I couldn’t tell if it was the dirt or her natural color. She had begged for a meal to be here.

I looked around at the empty tables. Nobody else was there this late. Only the cook in the back. It was the perfect time for a meal of it’s usual taste.

“Do you remember me?” I asked her softly. She shook her head.

“You killed my wife.”

She just stared at me, her big eyes filled with dread.

“You don’t even remember?”

She shook her head again, slowly this time.

“Aren’t you the Monster in the Well?”

She shook her head once more.

I slammed my hand on the table and she flinched.

“Stop messing with me. You’re the Monster in the Well, and you killed my wife seven years ago.”

She stared at me, shaking even more than before.

“Answer me!”

She flinched again. “No sir, I’m not. I’m sorry, I’m not a monster.”

It was my turn to stare. Heaving furiously, my hand still flat on the table, I stared at the little girl, but there was no malice in those deep black eyes—nothing but fear. And urgency every time they darted around the room to try to find a way to escape me.

I straightened and took a deep breath, running my hand through my hair.

If I had the wrong idea, it meant I had wasted a good year or so on that lead. And it meant I was scaring the shit out of a little girl.

“You know what we’re gonna do? You’re gonna come with me. I want to show you something.”

She looked around. “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Her throat bobbed. “Can we wait for my meal first?”

I huffed a laugh and shook my head.

“Sure! Why the hell not.”

I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. The Monster rose but did not sit.

“Sit. We’ll talk while we wait.”

She fiddled with her rag, her back hunched, and looked towards the door to the kitchen. She didn’t move.

“I said sit.” We stared at each other, my eyes filled with hatred, no doubt, and hers with fright. I slammed my hand on the table again. “Sit down!”

She jumped and sat down quickly.

“Good.” I had to jog her memory. Either she really had forgotten what happened, which I would never forgive, or she did remember but didn’t want to tell.

“Have you ever been to Fair Haven?”

“No, sir.”

“Liar. Still, I’ll tell you about it. Fair Haven is a little port village near the coast east of here. Its people are always ready to help one another. And strangers, too. A few travelers make their way to the village every year. A few go there for the fish market, but others find themselves there because they have lost their way.

“Fair Haven is a good place for people who need serenity and peacefulness, as well as something to keep them busy. It’s a good place for people to try to find themselves. Not everyone that wanders into Fair Haven often leaves.

“But I left that place. Do you want to know why?”

She nodded, curiosity lighting her eyes.

“I left because I lost everything there.” I paused. “Can you imagine? A place where people go to find things is where I lost everything.”

Memories of that night resurfaced. What was left of her, the huge, strange footprints in the blood. I tapped my finger absentmindedly on the table.

At the same time, the door to the kitchen opened, and the cook came out with a plate of what smelled like seafood.

“Oh. Welcome, sir. Will you be eating with us tonight as well?”

I just looked at him, lost in thoughts for a moment. He set the plate down in front of the Monster. Shrimp mixed with pasta and white sauce.

My eyes found his while he waited for an answer.

“No, sorry. Not tonight.”

“Alright.”

The cook looked at the little girl in question as if to ask if she was alright. She wiped her face like she had been drooling at the sight of the food. When she saw him waiting for her approval, she nodded. She just wanted to eat.

So the cook nodded to both of them with a small smile and left. The second his back was turned, she delved into that plate of food like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Maybe she really wasn’t the Monster in the Well.

No. That was all a deception. She was the Monster; I was sure of it. Maybe she could change shape, or she controlled the monster somehow.

I just had to make her talk or trigger her somehow.

“So, as I was saying,” I said over the sound of her slurping down her meal. “I lost everything in that village in one night. Do you want to know what happened?”

She paused her eating long enough to nod.

“My wife died.” I fought through the nausea rising in my throat. “She was murdered, actually. I came back one night and there she was, lying on the floor of our small house. Well, what was left of her. Her belly was open and empty. All of her organs were gone, as well as her legs, arms, and head. Blood smeared the walls and the floor, thick.”

The little girl held her fork aloft, pasta twirled around it, but she did not bring it to her mouth. Instead, she stared at me, her eyes as wide as the plate in front of her, her mouth hanging open.

She dropped the fork and bent over to the side. She heaved and heaved until everything she had eaten was on the floor.

If that was a deception, it was a damn good one. I could do nothing but stare until she was done. What was I doing?

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

She fiddled with her hands. “For interrupting.”

I paused, then sighed. “That’s alright. Finish eating.”

“Will you continue your story?”

“I’ll wait for you to finish.”

“Thank you.”

I stared at the same spot on the wall for a good while: a golden flower in the green tapestries. I must have had the wrong idea. I didn’t think the Monster would deign to fake being ill at the mention of blood and gore. That only meant that this was only a poor little girl.

Which meant I was probably back to square one.

I had to make absolutely sure, though, so I would finish my story and wait for her reaction. If I traumatized the poor child… I’d think of something, then.

I turned to her and found her looking at her plate, untouched.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it.”

“You still feel sick?”

She nodded.

Well, that settled it, then I guessed.

“You really feel too sick to eat from hearing my story?”

She nodded, hunched over like she was sorry she couldn’t eat and I would reprimand her.

I sighed and rubbed my face. What was I doing? Scaring a poor little child like that.

“I’m sorry.” I sighed again. “Where do you live?”

She shrugged.

“Are your parents waiting for you somewhere?”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, staring at that plate of food—such a waste.

“I guess I’ll leave you be. Sorry for the trouble.”

I rose and made my way through the tables.

“Sir?”

I turned and waited.

“Could I please ask for your help?”

I frowned. “Really?” she nodded. “What for?”

“I just want to wash myself, and if I could also ask for a night of sleep with a roof over my head. I could repay you with… you know.”

Was she suggesting what I thought she was? It looked like it wasn’t her first time offering. What a sick fucking world we lived in.

“I will provide a shower and a bed for you, but you will absolutely not repay me for anything. Especially not in that way. Gods. Fucking perverts. Pedophile pieces of shit. And ask the cook for a container so you can bring what’s left on your plate with you.”

Her eyes sparkled as she rose and gods damn bowed. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Sure.” Either she was just a little girl and she’d be on her way tomorrow morning, which I was beginning to think was the truth, or I hadn’t been wrong and I’d see her transform or whatever tonight.

But seeing her running to the door to the kitchen and peeking in, softly asking for the cook, made it hard to believe she was a monster.

Gods, this fucking thing. How long would I have to chase it around? The Monster in the Well. You’d think it’d never come out of its well with a name like that. And which well was that anyway? There was almost no information on the thing. The little I had been able to find had led me here, to this little girl happily packing what little food she had in a container.

I sighed.

She paused. “Sorry.”

“Hm? For what?”

“I don’t know, but you sighed.”

“It wasn’t against you.” Gods be damned, what kind of life had she lived?

After she finished packing her food and the cook came to see us off, we walked through the front doors and down the busy street a few blocks over to where I rented a small one-room apartment. The little girl was winded after climbing the three sets of stairs to my door.

“By the way, can I know your name before I let you in?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know your name?”

She shook her head. She must have never met her parents or something. A genuinely disgusting world we lived in.

“Alright then, what would you like me to call you?”

She thought about it for a few seconds.

“I always liked the name Elowen.”

My hand froze on the doorknob.

“What did you say?”

She shrank back a little. “Elowen. I heard it once a few years ago.”

Elowen is an extremely rare name. My wife’s name. Did she know and this little Monster was taunting me? Or had she really heard it somewhere and it was mere coincidence?

I opened the door and let her inside. She seemed uncomfortable by my reaction to the name, but she still came in. I closed the door behind her and turned the light on. The TV and couch were directly on our right, my bed on the far left, and the small kitchen on the far right. Directly on our left were piles of books and sheets of various information standing proudly on and around a single desk. Between the kitchen and the couch was the door to the bathroom.

“The shower is in there. I don’t have clothes that fit you, but I can give you one of my shirts if you want.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Alright, wait here.”

While she took her shower, I’d be preparing for the possibility of the Monster coming out of there instead of a small child. I had a few things that could probably kill it: knives, spikes, and even a gun. I had to be ready because that mention of my wife’s name could not be a coincidence. Especially not after she heard my story.

“There we go.” I unearthed a clean shirt from the pile on the chair beside my bed. “This should be alright for you.”

I turned to give it to her, thinking she was still near the entrance, but she was right behind me.

“Thank you,” she said as she took the shirt.

“No problem,” I said slowly. “The clean towels are under the sink.”

“Thank you.”

I watched her go to the bathroom, close the door behind her, and then went to work as quietly as possible. I stashed the gun and a knife under my pillow. Then, another knife and a few spikes in the kitchen, in the cupboards where she couldn’t reach.

Then I had to have something wake me up if she ever decided to attack me in the dead of night, which was more than likely. Maybe if I made a show of reading sheets and books and spread them out so it was impossible for her not to trip over them. I’d have to think about it some more before going to bed.

I put her food in the fridge while I waited and looked around for things I could use. Then I heard the shower stop and decided to go with the books. I had to be quick, or she’d notice. I hauled a few piles of books and spread them out in shorter piles, and then I brought sheets of things I printed out at the library.

I finished putting everything in place and sat on my bed with a book in hand when she got out of the bathroom. She had the towel in her hands and was looking around.

“Just put that there,” I said, pointing to the pile of dirty laundry behind the couch.

She dropped it and peered at the couch.

“That’s where you’ll be sleeping.”

She nodded and came my way.

“What are you reading?” She asked when she was next to me.

“It’s a book about legends and myths in the region.”

“I see.”

“Want to read it before going to bed?”

She nodded, so I handed it to her. As she took it, I felt a pinprick on my wrist. I looked it over, and nothing seemed amiss. Not a drop of blood, nothing.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Hm? Oh, nothing. You can turn the light off from there when you’re done,” I said, pointing to the switch next to the front door.

She nodded and went to sit on the couch to read. I turned on the lamp on my nightstand, grabbed another book, and lay down. Not too long after, she turned the lights off and I did the same a few minutes later.

I made it seem as though I was lying in bed to sleep, but I had to stay awake as long as possible. That thing could pounce on me anytime now.

I woke up. I hadn’t even noticed I had fallen asleep, yet here I was, on my back, in the dark, eyes bleary. The bed sank next to me. I made to turn my head and look, but I couldn’t move.

Then, the little girl was above me.

“Can you move, sir?” She asked me.

I couldn’t even answer her.

“Sir?”

When I still didn’t answer, she smiled, a wicked gleam in her eyes, and my heart started racing.

“Well, now. How are you feeling, sir? Are you comfortable?”

By the gods. She really was the Monster in the Well.

“I can’t believe you managed to find me. I’ve been eluding people for centuries and you found me in only seven years? I guess I should change my pattern.”

I tried to move, to grab the gun under my pillow, but I couldn’t budge. All I could do was sweat and move my eyes.

“It’s no use, Victor. You won’t even be able to scream through all of this,” she said, raising a finger, her nail extending to a thin claw. She pricked me when she took the book earlier.

My mind stopped. How did she know my name?

She laughed, the most horrible sound I had ever heard in my life. Then she transformed, just like I thought she could, but not in what I thought she would. Instead of growing in size, her arms and legs grew longer, slender and delicate. Her chest became a grown woman’s chest. Her hair turned from black to a rich red hue. I knew all of those traits. The legs, the arms, the hair. And now the face.

When she was done, I was staring into my wife’s eyes.

“Hello there, husband. How have you been? After all the care I took to make it look like I died, too.”

This had to be a dream. Or the Monster just took on the look of her victims. I couldn’t believe this was actually my wife sitting over me.

“I almost burst out laughing earlier when I realized my ruse had worked. I ate one of the travelers that no one would miss and bit off her head so nobody would recognize her. Cunning, wasn’t it?”

My chest rose and fell as my breathing became irregular, as my heart picked up speed.

The Monster I had been chasing for killing my wife was actually my wife.

“Since you remember my ‘death’, I’ll try to make you look exactly as that traveler did in the end. Don’t worry; you’ll be able to feel everything.”

I tried to scream, but my mouth didn’t move. Only my eyes strained as my wife clawed through my stomach and devoured my insides. I could do nothing to escape this hell. The only things I could hear through all this were her wicked laugh and the sound of my entrails slowly being savored.