The Hunter's Curse

Some monsters frighten us, some make us laugh, but some monsters are human inside. Some monsters only exist at night under the full moon, and some simply wait. They wait for the teenage girl holding a boy’s hand at 15 because they know the girl will begin to hunt.

I was 15 when I started hunting, but every time I confronted the monster, it placed a finger on its hand, whispering, “Shhhh…I’m trying to sleep.”

“Too late!” I said, “I have found you and will pray you away, and you’ll never wake up.”

The monster looked up at me, a wicked grin on its face:

“Do you even know my name?” it asked. I didn’t answer and kept looking at the monster.

“27,” it said, “my name is 27.” And then it disappeared.

I threw down the knife in my hand. “No more hunting,” I said.

6 years later

I woke up one morning to find the knife lying next to me in bed. The weapon I used for hunting was back. “No!” I whispered, “Not again.” I took the knife with me as I walked to school, and from a distance, I saw the monster standing before me. I stopped walking and took out the knife from my purse.

“I have the knife with me!” I shouted, “It’s gotten sharper.” 27 stood in the same spot and answered, “You don’t need it right now!” shouting back, “I’m only here for one day.” And once again, the monster disappeared.

2 years later

For 3 months, the knife lay in my bed, growing an inch longer. The monster, 27, wouldn’t appear even though I felt it near me. One day, I sat with a friend at a coffee shop. She spoke about a girl who hunted 27. Was there someone else hunting the same monster?

“What do you know about 27?” I curiously asked.

“Oh, everyone who hunts this monster obsesses over it,” her eyes widen. “It’s embarrassing. I thought about the knife I carried, hiding inside my purse in case I saw the monster again. Seconds after our conversation, the same girl my friend spoke about walks inside the coffee shop holding a knife in her hand. I had no desire to be the same, so I decided not to hunt for 27 anymore.

The knife kept showing up in my bed every morning. I stopped carrying it with me, and 27 never showed up. I kept the monster sleeping and didn’t intend to wake it up.

During a family gathering one Saturday afternoon, I suddenly felt weak. As I took my laptop out of the bag, there it was. The knife pointed right near my heart.

“Do you want to join in on the conversation,” my mother asked.

“No,” I answered, “I’m going to lie down for a bit.” As I opened one of the bedroom doors, I saw the monster sitting on the bed, but I had no strength to take the knife out and confront it. Instead, I lay next to 27.

“You're sad,” said the monster, and turned off the lights.

Tears fell down my eyes. Behind the walls, I heard laughter and joy, but in the room, there was a knife, a monster, and I, who was too weak to fight.

“This is the closest we’ve been next to each other.” 27 said quietly, “You don’t even have the strength to confront me.”

“I don’t want to obsess over you anymore,” I said with my eyes closed, “just go away before everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

27, then got up and reached over my bag. “No!,” I said to myself, remembering the knife inside. I quickly got up and saw the monster holding my phone.

“Call you friend,” said the monster in a sarcastic tone, “apparently she’s the expert in monsters.” I wiped the tears from my eyes.

“I’m not hunting anymore,” I said,” just go away or go to sleep. I don’t care.” But I did as 27 suggested and started crying. The monster lay on the bed next to me. The last thing any hunter expected was the company of a monster they spent years hunting.

I stopped crying. “Am I cursed,” I asked the monster, “for confronting you. 27 got up and started walking out of the room.

“That’s a heavy question to ask right now, no offense to your heart.” The monster understood my pain and appreciated its sense of humor. I didn’t understand the answer it had given me, however.

“Right now?” I asked, wondering what it meant.

27 stopped walking and turned towards me. “Yes,” it replied, “hunters often ask the same question to their monster, and that’s when we tell them how naive they are, thinking they’ve confronted us.” Not only was the monster annoying, but he was also arrogant.

I answered with the same pretentious energy. “Okay, so I can kill you then since I’m so naïve.” The monster stood next to the door, holding my knife. It then pointed the knife towards me and asked, “Two choices, it said, “I do the killing myself, no more hunting OR, I hand you the knife, and you stay a hunter, and you confront me yourself.”

As offended as I was being called naïve, it wouldn’t help if the hunter allowed the monster to take her weapon with it. I then put my hand out, and 27 returned my knife. “Would you like to know the confrontation date?” it asked.

“No,” I answered, “I like surprises.

“Wise answer,” it said, “but you’re getting close, don’t worry.” And once again, the monster was gone.

27

I surrendered my title as a hunter; for that to happen, I needed to speak with people or “experts.” I met the expert one Friday afternoon. My mind raced, and it was hard to keep still, but the expert paid no attention.

We both sit, the expert holding a piece of paper.

“So, how old were you when you started hunting?” he asked.

“15,” I said.

“And you kept hunting ever since?” he wrote on his paper.

“Yes,” I said quietly, “because the monster kept returning.”

“When does it come back?” he asked, looking at me.

“When the knife shows up in my bed,” I start dazing off, remembering my weapon, still hiding in my bag.

“How many times has the knife appeared in your bed?” the expert writes, then looks up at me.

I answered, holding back tears, remembering the pain I felt in my heart before the monster showed up.

“About 3 times,” I said, swallowing the tears down, “first at 15 years old, then at 21, and then 23.”

As the expert wrote on his piece of paper, I interrupted and spoke about the time I was 25 when the monster almost killed me. The expert looks concerned.

“Has it tried to kill you since?” he asked.

“No,” I said nervously, “even his recent visit, it didn’t matter that I was talking to an expert to get rid of it.

“And why did the monster show up this time?” the expert continued to ask.

“Well, it always shows up,” I replied, “usually when I have a heavy heart because of a boy.”

The expert then got up and took out a book titled “The Hunter’s Curse.” He walked towards me, flipped through the book, and handed me the book. He points out the curse I hoped to not have.

I was upset and challenged the expert, questioning why he believed I was cursed. “No..I-I’m sorry, but I think you’re wrong.” I said, handing the book back, “I’m just tired, and yes, I get sad, but I’m not crazy or obsessive.”

But who was I to try and rebel against the only person who not only studied about these curses but showed compassion for hunters wanting to surrender their titles.

I sat down, took a deep breath, and apologized.

“You know,” he said, sitting in his chair, “people have never really understood this curse, and hunters have a difficult time accepting it.”

I listened and kept reading the incantations of my curse.

“Do you want to take the book home and read more about it?” the expert asked.

“No, thank you,: I said, closing the book and handing it back,: it was about time I confronted the monster.”

The expert then gave me the letter of surrender.

Name: The Hunter

Reason for Visit: Surrender title

Monster: Borderline per. Disorder

Status: confronted

Age of confrontation: 27