Fantasy Suspense

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Content Warning: Has a bit of violence and mention of deaths.

My hands clenched up when I heard that demonic name once more. Leviathan. That’s it. That’s the name of the murderous monster that ruined my entire life. I need to relax but it’s so hard to not have the urge to jump out of this train and track that pathetic fiend. My adoptive father, Mr. Holloway has been ‘educating’ me about stock markets and something about the history of trade. Honestly, I'm only half listening to his philosophical rambles. That’s all the old man does, tells me to focus on the now, and the importance of knowledge. I don’t care about any of this stuff, I just want to kill that ugly water snake. 

“Luke.” The old man now has his stern voice. “Look at me, I know, but it’s best to ignore these people and focus on the stuff I’m telling you now. We are just a couple of minutes away until we reach Reckford Sanctuary, so please bear with me.” His expression softened as he adjusted his monocle eyepiece. 

I can’t say no to someone like that. Afterall, he’s a lifelong family friend and my only parental figure. Instead, I just shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to read the texts coming from this piece of paper with the title “Feb 23, 1926: How to Rebuild a Lost City.” The smoothness of the paper feels like sand, my thumb smothers over the ink letters and for once, I actually feel a bit calm. I look over and see Mr. Holloway reading a book while massaging his gray beard. This is nice. 


There it was again. This time it came from an older lady crying with her blood curdling snorts and agony yelps. My mind no longer feels relaxed. My heart won’t stop rushing and my blood is now flaming hot, soon the steam will be coming out of my head and lit my brown hair into flames. I can hear everyone whisper in the train. It’s like a cult, just chanting the ritual until the god we think of pops out.

Leviathan. Leviathan. Leviathan. The whispering cult sings their song. The chatter now sounds like a melody box. It’s as if they’re summoning it. They want to bring it here and ask for something I bet. How could it be so evil? Why us? What is its purpose? Where do you come from? I can imagine those questions. 

I can feel Mr. Holloway shaking my shoulder and rashly saying my name. It’s too late, the angelic bell is hovering over my ears. The velvet cushion I’m sitting on no longer looks real. The motion of the train is frozen and slowly turning white.

It’s right in front of me:

The Leviathan

My body feels lighter and smaller. I’m not a seventeen-year-old anymore, no, I’m back to when I was still that cowering child, clinging on that soft bear. The bear is suffocating from the tight grasps of my sweaty hands. My body vibrates when I’m near the ultrasounds of the monster’s screams. This scaly beast makes me feel nothing but fear, my soul is about to get sucked into the void of the serpent’s mouth. Its teeth are a cluttered mess, and it looks unorthodox, I can’t make sense of it, it looks like a whirlpool of razor knives. 

The evil serpent spreads its disease of chaos among my beautiful home, shredding the walls that guarded the many civilians with its draconic fins. Tentacles are in a mass and strangling the soldiers that dared to poke it with those sticks or bouncing rocks. The people’s faces are swirled and distorted, the bright blue ocean looked a lot like red paint, and now the once beautiful home was a devastated junk land.

Luke!! Get away from there!

It’s the sound of my parents, urging me to follow the screechiness of their plea. I hesitate to follow, and I wish I didn't. I could no longer hear their screams. Everything is empty now. I see the Leviathan again. Its skin makes my flesh ache from the sight of it. Its eyes are of a color I have never seen before. It mocks my existence and my vulnerability from its presence alone.

Not anymore though, no more fears or tears. I let go of that soft plush bear, my innocence now stripped away. I don’t care how tiny or light I am compared to the gigantic worm. I want vengeance, I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll kill it.


It sounds different this time. I feel the lullaby of the bells replenish and my body returns back to the seventeen-year-old. The cult whispering returns back to normal human speech, and the world becomes realistic again. My old man looks worried and upset, fighting between those two emotions. Some people stared at us with their judgmental eyes. I apologize for my behavior as our destination has finally reached its course.


The words on the sign highlighted security and safety for the passengers on the train. The train comes to a halt and the many passengers are immersed into the city. I was told about this place by many folks. It’s for refugees and other survivors who have lost their homes to any type of disaster or destruction-in my case it’s the scaly monster. My old man also has a workshop here too. Lots of books. Lots of learning and knowledge. We’re about to head there now as we get settled into our small cozy home. Once everything got settled, Mr. Holloway took me for a ride and wanted to show me his workshop. 

“Luke, are you paying attention?” Mr. Holloway points his finger to the image of a castle and a tall shadowy creature that stood above it. 

As usual, my mind focuses on revenge and the type of weapon I could use to stab the body and twist its guts. A bold piece of paper hits my head, and I am brought back to the same disappointing reality. The old man wants my attention, I guess. 

“The Leviathan is an evil creature for sure, but we cannot defeat chaos, we can only learn from it and let it transform us.” He pulled out another book about theology and monsters. At first, I wasn’t going to read it, but my aching head could probably use some ideas about killing monsters. I gave the page a quick turn and glossed over the words. It was a bore at first, but it started to become pretty fascinating about the purpose of evil and how to overcome it. One of them was about transformation.

“Ya know Holloway, I actually kind of liked this one.” I read the book a second time and it felt like the vengeful feeling I had slowly washed away. The serpent felt like a stain of a memory. I can still feel my anger and desire for revenge but not to the point of acting out. The best type of revenge can be change and improvement of oneself. I like that aspect of the book.

I may not have the strength or even the possibility to kill Leviathan, but I can create something new for myself. My revenge isn’t meant to slay it, but it’s best for me to lay low and make a new home for myself, and betterment for other civilians. When the right time comes, I’ll be ready to strike back. 

March 25, 2023 02:14

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Mehkyla Gibson
19:13 Apr 08, 2023

Hey Hope, I wanted to depict my character having ptsd or flashbacks to the memory. The Leviathan was a monster that destroyed his home and massacred those who lived there. Thank you!


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Hope Linter
01:54 Apr 02, 2023

Loads of wonderful creative imagery here. I'm not sure how the MC's life was destroyed by Leviathan. Is he suffering from a mental illness. I liked the quote "...we cannot defeat chaos, we can only learn from it and let it transform us." Great work.


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