Flash fiction by Paul Alex Gray
Once a monster
The fire reflects in his eyes and he blinks and swats at the sparks that rise around him. Golat chugs at his beer, swigging it down his massive neck and then hurls the bottle into the flames. The sky stinks of smoke and far to the north, I see a jagged line of red, slowly swallowing the mountains.
"We’re gonna burn it all down!"
The others cheer, a cacophony of howls, yips and growls. We are a myriad of skins and fangs, tails and long necks. We are every nightmare brought to be.
For the longest time, we’ve lived here. I remember coming down from the mountains, sneaking along neon lit streets past drunks and junkies and late-night kin. We put on disguises, wrapped ourselves in office workers, fitness instructors, bored moms and miserable no-hopers. The types of people that don’t get seen.
Golat flicks his forked tongue and gazes at me side-on with a bronze eye slit down the middle. He’s declared that era over. Summer’s over sunshine. I’m not sure if it’s been some plan all along or if he’s just grown bored of this adventure. Either way, he’s dubbed this dry October day to be our return.
"Are you in or are you out?"
The others are listening, eager to hear what I’ll say. The fire crackles and blazes.
"It’s not the way Golat," I hiss.
He shakes his head and spits on the flames. The liquid sizzles, a grey cloud rising, noxious and most likely, poisonous.
"You used to be fun," he says. "Aren’t you tired of it all? These bags of meat with all their stupid problems?"
There is muttering around.
"If you’re not with me, you’re against me," he says.
I’m counting down the memories in my mind, packing them up and storing them away.
"I won’t join you," I say.
The others shriek and roar, jostling. Claws lash out and I growl, flexing my muscles. I’m bigger than most. Wilder. Older. They yap and howl like younglings. I back away, flashing my eyes back and forth until I reach the driveway. I turn and pad away on four legs.
"I thought you were one of us!" I hear Golat cry.
I slink away, move through the backstreets. Their howling grows louder, splintered with breaking glass and kicked in cars. Sirens echo and I catch a flash of red and blue lights.
I’ll climb through the streets and backyards, up scrubby hills and past the dusty harvest moon fields. I’ll follow the hidden trails into the burned-out woods where streams once flowed. I will shed what’s left of here and I will find a place in darkness and I will wait.
The fire reflects in his eyes and he blinks and swats at the sparks that rise around him. Golat chugs at his beer, swigging it down his massive neck and then hurls the bottle into the flames. The sky stinks of smoke and far to the north, I see a jagged line of red, slowly swallowing the mountains.
"We’re gonna burn it all down!"
The others cheer, a cacophony of howls, yips and growls. We are a myriad of skins and fangs, tails and long necks. We are every nightmare brought to be.
For the longest time, we’ve lived here. I remember coming down from the mountains, sneaking along neon lit streets past drunks and junkies and late-night kin. We put on disguises, wrapped ourselves in office workers, fitness instructors, bored moms and miserable no-hopers. The types of people that don’t get seen.
Golat flicks his forked tongue and gazes at me side-on with a bronze eye slit down the middle. He’s declared that era over. Summer’s over sunshine. I’m not sure if it’s been some plan all along or if he’s just grown bored of this adventure. Either way, he’s dubbed this dry October day to be our return.
"Are you in or are you out?"
The others are listening, eager to hear what I’ll say. The fire crackles and blazes.
"It’s not the way Golat," I hiss.
He shakes his head and spits on the flames. The liquid sizzles, a grey cloud rising, noxious and most likely, poisonous.
"You used to be fun," he says. "Aren’t you tired of it all? These bags of meat with all their stupid problems?"
There is muttering around.
"If you’re not with me, you’re against me," he says.
I’m counting down the memories in my mind, packing them up and storing them away.
"I won’t join you," I say.
The others shriek and roar, jostling. Claws lash out and I growl, flexing my muscles. I’m bigger than most. Wilder. Older. They yap and howl like younglings. I back away, flashing my eyes back and forth until I reach the driveway. I turn and pad away on four legs.
"I thought you were one of us!" I hear Golat cry.
I slink away, move through the backstreets. Their howling grows louder, splintered with breaking glass and kicked in cars. Sirens echo and I catch a flash of red and blue lights.
I’ll climb through the streets and backyards, up scrubby hills and past the dusty harvest moon fields. I’ll follow the hidden trails into the burned-out woods where streams once flowed. I will shed what’s left of here and I will find a place in darkness and I will wait.
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Paul Alex Gray enjoys writing linear and interactive fiction that cuts a jagged line to a magical real world. His work has been published in Nature, McSweeney's, 365 Tomorrows and others. Paul grew up by the beaches of Australia, then traveled the world and now lives in Canada with his wife and two children. Chat with him on Twitter @paulalexgray or visit www.paulalexgray.com
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