evil in its purest form

I live in an abandoned gas station, a gas station far away from any town, a gas station on a long dirt road that leads to nowhere. It used to lead to a lake where thousands of people would flock to each summer, leaving their dusty, hot towns behind, that is until the monster started to haunt the wood and it happened.

They described him{for all monsters must simply be men} as tall with milky pale skin and scales running down his back. He had large sharp teeth and wicked red eyes. “Devils Spawn”, “Hells Minion”, or “The Lake Snake.” He wasn’t evil though, he merely watched the people happy and together, he never wanted to hurt, he never wanted to scare, never wanted to do the killing, the murder, it all all just a big mistake, a really big one, HUGE, too big for words. How do I know this? Well I am he, well her.

This story starts on a cold, dreary day, well it was sunny- quite beautiful actually but stormy fits the mood better right? I was sitting in my home, the gas station, staring at the cracked ceiling and the walls with peeling red paint and the display case still full of candy , when the rumble of a car broke the silence. I turned, knowing what I should do, I hide behind the counter trembling, they wouldn’t stop, they wouldn’t st-

“Hello.” A loud southern accent yelled before the door slammed shut. They’ve come to kill me, they’ve finally realized I’m not in the woods. “Does anybody work here? Hello?”

pleaseleavepleaseleavepleaseleave

“I guess not.” says an equally southern male voice. “Come on Joyce, this was a useless stop, no one lives here and it's useless bumbling around the woods we don’t know.”

“Bill, please, this would be the perfect story, something that could get seen yah know.”

“Joyce, the New York Times ain’t gonna pick up a story about a monster, who doesn’t exist.”

“Bill, the CIA were in this area after that murder, that was not a normal murder” my breathing grows harsh, murder, murder, MURDERER, MONSTER, EVIL.

“Joyce, there are more stories out there.”

“Bill, those are taken stories, no one has come to this sorry little lake in decades.” 6394 days since July, 1982 when the last car rolled out of this god forsaken town.

“Fine, but if this lake monster snake thing kills us it’ll be your fault.”

“K, I’ll just get something you wait at the car.” The door opens and closes and I am left alone with a monster hunter, monster reporter? She is in front of me and looking down at me and my first thought is she doesn’t look like a monster hunter. She has long ringlets of perfectly curled golden hair, huge hoop earrings and bright pink lipstick. The second thing I notice is that she isn’t screaming, she is looking and looking and looking, as if, as if she can see my soul. I am frozen, trembling. “You.” she says almost listlessly and the only word that comes out of my mouth is.

“H-h-hello.” The work is cracked and brittled, dry and weak but it's a word, there, standing all by itself.

“Well you aren’t what I expected at all, come out here, I won’t hurt you.” She pulls off a thick dog eared notepad covered with pages upon pages of writing. “I promise.” Her voice is shaking with fear…I stand trembling, hunching over a bit. “You aren’t a monster.” she says and I want to cry because no matter how much I want it to be true, she is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Then I’m back on that sunny, sunny day and a little girl with black shiny curls,wearing a red dress with blue flowers, plays by the lake, laughing all by herself. I watch smiling, wishing I could do that, run, laugh, roll in the sand. I wish I could be human, I wish, I wish, I wish. I don’t notice the tears running down my cheek until it is too late. Thick drops of acid, dribble slowly down my cheek and create shapes in the sand. My curse is that whenever I cry my tears will kill, it makes me unhuman, it destroys, no, smashes my soul. I try to not think about the next part where the acid crawls towards the girl, she shrieks and runs to water, but it's too late, too latelatelate.

“What is your name?” Joyce asks and I’m back, back in my world.

“Laural.”

“Laural, thats a pretty name.” I picked it cause it was pretty like the sunrise, pretty like the lake in the afternoon when the sun hits it just right. “I always hated my name, Joyce. It sounds so plain, so boring, so orderly.”

“Joyce, is pretty.” I whisper and she smiles, I’ve never made anyone smile before.

“Well, I want to ask you a few questions, that's why I came here.” I shake my head.

“No, they will come”

“They won’t I promise, I swear because you're not a monster I truly believe it and that means others can.”

“I’m a murderer best kept hidden.” where I can’t hurt anyone.

“If you truly were a monster you wouldn’t be hiding in the middle of the woods where there are no people. I feel like a monster sometimes, too different, not nice enough, too angry, too big for this world, but it's all just my mind sobbing.”

“I’m a real monster.” I point to my eyes.

“I was born with blue eyes and you were born with red ones, eyes don’t mean someone is kind, someone is evil.” she cocks her head “does it.” I want to cry, I want to cry again because I’ve never had a full conversation with someone, never had them look at me and say I’m not evil. “Please let me ask you what happened that day, why, how?”

“It was my fault.”

then the tears come in a flood

I can’t stop them

nononononnonono.

fuckfuckfuckfuck.

It's like that day

but worse

because I see Joyce's eyes turn hurt and pained.

She thinks I planned

the acid that dribbles down my face and wraps around her.

I can’t look at her,

I can’t do anything,

so I do what I always do

and run

and run

and run

and run.