The Unconquerable Monster

I am close.

I have sought this creature for years. This unconquerable monster, I am told.

I have been called arrogant, ignorant, mad in my pursuit of it.

The monster haunts my ever waking thoughts and deep into the recesses of my dreams.

Each brush stroke brings me closer to my nemesis.

I have been creating this painting nearly my entire life.

When the monster first struck, I did not know what to do. It cursed me as a child. It cursed my mother and father. My siblings. As I grew, it followed and cursed those I called friends. I found little solace in marriage or fatherhood. Each person in my life was condemned by this creature to wither and die, to be taken from my life one-by-one. My daughter, Ingrid, held on the longest but even she disappeared.

I had to find this demon. I had to capture it and slay it. But how? I studied many disciplines: Arts, Science, Philosophy, Humanities, Sociology, even magics and more. I chased it around the world. But at every step, at every stop, it was always one move ahead of me, destroying something else in my life.

Why me? Of all the beings in existence why me? Then I found out it was not me alone that was cursed by the monster. There were others. Others who had hunted as long as I had, as far as I had, and as wide as I had. Old, young, men, women, someone of every race and from every continent had been chosen like me for this torment.

After finding each other we decided to band together. We organized ourselves into a society with one goal in mind: finding this monster so that we could destroy it.

It found out.

It did not like to be hunted.

It was our mistake. Each on our own did not attract its attention but together our energies and efforts became apparent. The creature increased the stakes. I showed us what it could truly do.

We had little choice but to find a weakness.

But how could you find a weakness in something so primeval, so ancient and elemental.

Together our minds put forward a plan but the creature would not take this without striking back.

It chose not to kill us, though. It chose to drive us mad.

The harder we pushed, the greater the madness struck our numbers. We had been thousands but had become only a few.

And that’s when it came to us.

Our monster was an idea, a concept that moved through the ether. A spirit that could not be seen or caught. That was how we would capture and finally destroy it.

Those of us left each chose an area. Some followed Science. Others, Philosophy. 

It amused me that I had nearly come back to the start of it all. I chose Arts. I brought a great canvas into a room I rented in a squalid, urban area. Where did not matter, only the pursuit. Each day I painted. Brush stroke by brush stroke I felt myself drawing nearer. I would destroy many of my works. One fault in them and the monster would escape. I started all over again.

But the creature hunted us still.

Edgar reported a breakthrough in his experiments only to throw himself off of a building when he found the creature had merely deceived and trapped him.

Soo-Jung had been close enough to touch the monster but it fled at the final moment and left her crying in her madness.

One-by-one we broke. 

Until there was only me.

I redoubled my efforts. Tripled them. Food was a distraction. Drink as well. 

The city around me had begun to crumble even more but I cared little. I have been attacked more than once by people who thought that I have some kind of riches hidden in my apartment. They would break-in and beat me, demanding the wealth I hid. They would turn my home over, destroying all that was in it then leave. 

Even my paintings.

But they were right to destroy them. They were bringing me no closer to my adversary.

It hurt so much to fail again and again. To at times seem so close then realize how far away I was. To lose over and over again to the monster.

Then I thought, perhaps that was the secret. The pain. The tragedy. The

disappointment. In all my life, it was all I ever had. Moments of happiness and joy followed by the crush of darkness.

And I always fought that darkness.

Maybe the secret was to embrace the darkness. To embrace my failures, my pain, my tragedies.

I tore my canvas down and started again.

With the first stroke of my brush I realized I was right. I felt the monster. It cursed me for what I was about to do.

It threatened me.

It condemned me.

It forbade me.

But I did not care. It had already taken so much, what was there left it could do to me?

Rage filled me as I brought the monster to life. 

I felt triumph creep into my soul. But I ignored it knowing how it had lied in the past.

I focused on all it had done. I focused on all the monster had unwittingly taught me all of these years. Ninety of them in total. It nearly broke me to realize how close I had been to slaying this creature time after time if I had only opened my eyes to what it was doing.

My brush strokes increased ever rapidly. I knew what it looked like. I knew what it was at its very heart and soul. I don’t know how long I worked but as I did my body weakened. 

My body hungered so it ate itself.

It thirsted so it captured the rain through the holes in the roof.

It needed to breathe so it filled my lungs with victory.

Finally, it stepped back.

I could hear its cries.

I had done it.

In that final moment, that final brush stroke, I had captured it.

Perfection.

I smiled.

I felt a peace I had never felt before take over me.

I moved to my half-rotted chair and sat.

I had defeated my monster.

I had capture perfection.

With that, I took my final strength and stood. I held the painting and threw it into the fire.

But then, it fought back.

A hand reached out and gripped me.

“You think you can create me then destroy me! I will be again!”

”NO!” I cried as I tore the hand from my arm.

The flames engulfed my nemesis.

It’s cries filled the room. It threatened to spread the flames.

”I will take it all down with me!”

I threw the paint, the covers, everything that could burn upon it.

Perfection would curse no one anymore.