The Hideous Monster

This is a bizarre short story about a girl whose life changes drastically after going through hideous changes- to find out about her adventures and all the strange things that happen to her, read on!!!!!!!!!!

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1. The Hideous Monster

“So, how long have you been a hideous monster?” Mrs. Margaret, my psychologist, asks me. Sitting on the plush, yellow, velvet couch I look up at the sign above her head.

MOLLY M. MARGARET

Certified Psychologist since 1987

    “I can’t say I’m sure,” I reply. She stares at me intently with bright green eyes from  behind the small lenses of her dark colored glasses. She wears a large turquoise beanie, covering all of her hair except for one black strand. She abruptly tucks it back in. “I like your hat, though.”

“Thanks,” She says. “Start from just a while before you knew for sure you were a monster. Like, when odd things started happening that made you start to wonder what was going on.”

“Alright,” I say. “I used to be a beautiful woman with long, naturally curly hair that was never frizzy and always did what I wanted it to, gorgeous green eyes, long eyelashes-”

My psychologist cuts me off. “Ok, I get it, you were good-looking. Now go on.”

“So, one day, I went on a date with my boyfriend and I spent a long time getting ready, making sure I looked extra nice for our special night. Not that I needed to, of course. I was already pretty enough without having to do anything more. But as I was getting ready, from the reflection in my mirror I saw something that was behind me. I saw what looked like the back of the head of a person with snakes for hair, sort of like Medusa. But when I turned around to look, there was no one there, so I just continued getting ready and I never saw it again that night. Then, during our date, my boyfriend kept looking at me really odd. And at the end of the date, he broke up with me! It was the first time anyone had ever broken up with me, ever! So that night I went home confused, and upset about how our date went. That night, though, before I went to bed, I happened to scratch my head and I felt something there. It was something hard that shouldn’t have been there. I ran my hand along whatever it was, and realized I had somehow grown a horn out of my head. At least that was what it felt like. But how could I have a horn growing out of my head? I was worried about it, but I was also really tired so I went to bed and decided that I would worry about it tomorrow.

The next morning, I woke up thinking that everything that had happened was a dream. But the more I thought about it, the more I wasn’t sure. Could what I thought was a dream have really happened? It didn’t seem likely that my boyfriend would have broken up with me, that I would have seen Medusa, and that I would have grown a horn all in the same night. But as I thought about it, I knew one thing was certain: I did know that my boyfriend had broken up with me, but I wasn’t so sure about seeing Medusa or the horn that grew out of my head. I looked in the mirror, and to my relief, I looked perfectly normal. I did not have a horn growing out of my head. But then later, when I was feeling my head, I felt it again. I looked in the mirror, and I looked fine, but as I stood in front of the mirror and felt my head again, there was definitely a horn there. But I still couldn’t see it in the mirror. All I could see was my hand above my head feeling something, but I could not actually see the horn.”

“And you still have that first horn now, I see,” Mrs. Margaret says.

“Yes,” I reply. “Unfortunately. That’s not the worst of it, though.”

“Go on with your story, then.”

“Alright. So I decided to try another way of seeing the horn. I couldn’t see it in the mirror, but I knew it was there. So I took a picture of myself and looked at it, and sure enough, there was a white horn sticking right out the side of my head, about five inches long. Now that I knew it was there, and I knew what it looked like, I decided that I had to get it off. The first thing I tried was pulling on it to try and get it off. Of course, that didn’t work. No matter how hard I pulled, I couldn’t get it off. Then, as I glanced at the mirror, I saw Medusa again, but just like the last time, it was only the back of her head. I turned around to look, and just like last time, there was no one there. When I looked at the mirror again, Medusa  was gone. I decided not to worry about it and just try and figure out how to get the horn off. But when I looked down at my left hand, it had gotten very pale and greenish colored. And every finger was covered in warts. Now I was starting to get scared. I forgot about the horn and went to cupboard in my bathroom and grabbed the wart cream my mom had accidentally left one time when she came over. I rubbed it all over my left hand, and in about ten minutes the warts were all gone. My hand was still a bit pale, but it was no longer greenish.

Now that that problem was gone, I had to figure out what to do about the horn. I knew I couldn’t pull it off. But then I remembered my uncle. My uncle had a chainsaw, so I thought maybe that could get the horn off. I called my uncle, and even though he didn’t believe that I really had a five inch horn growing out of my head, he invited me over anyway. I wore a hat on my head on the way over to prevent anyone from seeing it. When I got there, he said hi, and led me over to the garage to show me his big, new chainsaw. I pulled off my hat, pointed to the horn, and asked if he could get it off. But about a moment after he saw me, he ran away and yelled that he was calling 911. I ignored him and decided that I would just get the horn off myself. I grabbed the giant chainsaw, pressed the on button, and gripping it tightly, I began to saw off the horn. When I was sure it was off, I let go of the chainsaw with my left hand and held it with my right hand. I began to feel my head just to make sure it was gone, and, sure enough, the horn was off. But then I lost control of the chainsaw. I dropped it, and it completely cut off my left hand from the wrist down.”

“Hold on for just one second,” Mrs. Margaret says. “Was the hand that got cut off the same one that was all green and covered in warts?”

“Yes,” I tell her.

“Ok, go on then.”

“So, I cut off my hand, and it hurt really bad and I was losing blood fast and I collapsed, and the last thing I remembered seeing was the horn I’d cut off and my disembodied hand on the garage floor. I have no idea how long I was unconscious before I woke up to see the scariest thing I’d ever seen in all my life. It was a clown staring down at me, smiling. He was wearing this creepy rainbow wig, and he smelled really bad. When he saw that my eyes were open, he yelled that I was awake and soon many other people, including clowns, were crowding around me. None of the other clowns were quite as scary as the one I saw when I first woke up.

I looked around to see I was in a very large red tent, and all around me everyone seemed to be doing some kind of juggling or acrobatic act, or some kind of ridiculous stunt. And everyone was wearing some kind of crazy costume. “Where am I?” I asked. I could barely hear myself over all the noise. “You’re at the circus,” the clown I first saw said. “Where you belong.” “I don’t belong in the circus,” I replied. “Of course you do,” the clown said to me. Look at yourself.” That was the first time I looked down and saw my left hand. Or, should I say, left hands. In the place where I had cut my hand off with the chainsaw, three more hands had grown in its place. And just like my hand had been before I put the wart cream on it, all three were pale and green and covered in warts. Except this time, each hand had more warts. The clown handed me a mirror. I looked in it, but I looked perfectly normal. I wasn’t falling for that one again, though. I felt the place where I had cut off the horn with the chainsaw. If cutting off my hand, which had been green and covered in warts, resulted in three more growing back, then did that mean the same thing for the horn? Sure enough, I felt my head and there were three more horns where I had cut the original one off. I looked at myself in the small mirror again. Perfectly normal. I lifted my three left hands up to the mirror. When I looked at them, they were still three warty hands, but in the mirror, I saw one, normal hand, identical to my right hand. And then, once again, in the mirror I saw Medusa just like the last two times. Even though I knew from the previous times that I wasn’t going to see anything when I looked back, I did it anyway, and of course I did not see Medusa, just the hustle and bustle of the circus. And when I looked back into the mirror, the image of Medusa was gone.

Then suddenly, all the clowns were staring at me as if I was growing plants out of my ears. Why? Because I would soon find out that I was growing plants out of my ears. “Your-your ears!” One of them stuttered. I felt my ears. Out of each one, I could feel a long, thin, stem growing out with a leaf at the end. Each was about a foot long and growing about a centimeter every two seconds and I bent one towards me to where I could see it. It looked like exactly what it felt like, and not surprisingly it was green. And it was still growing. One of the clowns handed me the mirror again, as if he thought I didn’t know what was happening. I looked in it and I looked perfectly normal. And then I saw Medusa again. I’d gotten to the point where I was aware that every time I looked in the mirror I saw Medusa, and every time I saw Medusa something weird happened to my body.

I handed the mirror back to the clown. Then, another one of the clowns took hold of the stem growing out of my right ear and yanked on it. “OW!” I screeched. But he kept yanking on it until he got it out, and I felt a little bit of blood coming out of my ear.

I just broke down and started sobbing, because all these weird things were happening, and I didn’t understand them, and my ear hurt, and I had no idea where I was and now I was strange enough to be put in the circus against my will. I looked at the green stem the clown had pulled out. I could see the brown skinny roots.

I should have expected the next thing that happened. Three green shoots grew speedily out of my ear. Their growth was faster at first, but as they got longer it gradually slowed down. They were still growing, though, many times faster than your average plant. Of course the stem growing out of my right ear was still growing, and still growing fast, but it, too, was slowing down.

After that episode the clowns started staring at me in shock again. This couldn’t be good. This must have meant that the effects of the last time I saw Medusa were starting. I sighed. “What is it this time?” I asked almost nonchalantly. The clowns seemed surprised at how calmly I was taking this. I was used to this, by now, though. The same clown handed me the mirror again. I almost looked, but then I stopped myself. I saw Medusa for just a split second before I growled, “I’ve had enough with the stupid mirrror!” I took it in my hand and threw it to the ground where it cracked into several pieces. But then I realized something. I had just growled. Last time I checked, humans don’t growl.”

“Wait a second,” Mrs. Margaret said. “You growled?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “So, I knew that I had growled because of the last time I had seen Medusa. But I still didn’t know what had happened because of the time before that. So I asked them what had happened this time. They told me that my face had turned blue and that I was growing antenna. There was no way for me to feel that my face had turned blue, but I could I could feel the antenna. One of the clowns that I hadn’t realized had left earlier appeared with a chainsaw. “Got the chainsaw!” He said.

“Wait, what are you doing with that?!?” I asked. Despite my pleas and protests, the clown came nearer to me with the chainsaw. “STOP!!!” I screamed. But he went right ahead anyway and began to cut off one of my antenna. It wasn’t long before the thin blue thing came off. Within seconds, three more grew and took its place. “See what you DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How did you not learn from last time?” I yelled.I did not understand how these clowns could be so stupid. Now I had three horns, three green warty hands, four plants growing out of my ears, a blue face, four blue antenna, and when I was mad my voice sounded like a growling dog.

Then, for once, I saw a normal looking person wearing normal looking clothes coming out of a door at the side. “The freaky monster girl is on in five minutes,” he said.

“WHAT?” I growled. Then I realized something. I still had no idea how I got here. One moment I am chopping my hand off with a chainsaw, I pass out, and then I wake up and I am at the circus. I made the clowns tell me what happened. They tell me that my uncle had called 911, and that even though they didn’t believe what he had said about me having a horn growing out of my head, but when they saw me laying on the ground unconscious with my hand cut off they took me to the hospital. But before they could give me stitches, three hands grew from my wrist and three horns grew out of my head, and other than being unconscious I seemed fine other than my freakish appearance, so they sent me to the circus. So then, I had to worry about the next thing: what did the man mean when he said I was on in five minutes?

I asked the clowns, and they said I was part of the freak show segment of the circus performance and that all I had to do was come out and stand there for everyone to see when they told me to. Did I want to do this? NO. So I told them that I was leaving, but then the clown I saw when I woke up yelled, “Security!!” and then two buff men stood in front of the doors, blocking my escape. Then two more security guards came and began to drag me off my bed and toward the door that the man that said I was on in five minutes had come from. “I can walk!” I snarled. The men didn’t listen to me. They just dragged me out the door, onto a stage behind some curtains. “Just stand there and look pretty,” one of the men told me.”

I pause. “I’ve been talking a while, and I’m kind of thirsty,” I tell Mrs. Margaret. “Can I get a glass of water?”

“Sure,” Mrs. Margaret replies. As she is walking away, I see a dark stray strand of hair sticking out of her turqoise hat. She hastily tucks it back in. When she returns with the glass of water, I sip it quickly and get back onto my story.

“So, anyway, I was standing on the stage behind the curtains and the two security guards left. I couldn’t see the audience, but I could hear their noisy chatter. Then I got nervous when I heard the crowd quieting down, and then the sound of someone speaking through the microphone. I think the person was introducing me, but I am not for sure because at that moment I ran off the stage. Of course, the security guards were waiting for me, and dragged me right back onto the stage. When they left, I tried to run offstage again, but they were there again and dragged me right back on. I tried again several times to escape, until finally one of the security guards got some duct tape and were just finishing duct taping my feet to the stage floor when the curtains rose. They ran off stage and, unable to move since I was taped to the floor, I could do nothing but stand there and listen to the audience’s gasps of horror as they stared at the four handed, three horned, blue faced, growling monster with four antenna and plants growing out of her ears. Even the man who had been talking into the microphone looked surprised when he saw me. He talked a little bit, and just let the audience have a chance to look at me until he said, “Alright, you can leave now. We’re ready for the next act.”

I tried to get off the stage, but I couldn’t because my feet were still duct taped to the floor. “Are you gonna go now?” The man looked impatient. But then he realized what the problem was. “We’re just having some technical difficulties,” he told the audience as he came over and began to try and peel the duct tape off. It was some pretty good duct tape, because he was sitting there trying to get it off for about five minutes before some security guards came and helped him, and then left when it was at a point when he could get it off himself. I was still trying to take this all in. I was more embarrassed and confused than I had ever been in my life, and now there were all these people here to witness it.

Once the duct tape was off, I decided then and there that I was done with the circus. I shoved the man away and ran off the stage and jumped into the audience. pushed past everyone I saw and ran out the back door and outside. As I went I heard people yelling security, but no one ever came to get me so I just ran. I had no idea where I was, but I just ran. What I wanted to do was get to a town so that I could find a place where I could get plastic surgery and end this nightmare. I was in an area with no buildings, and a few trees, but there was a road so I just followed it. I tried to lay low the best I could, and hid in a ditch when cars passed by so that no one could see me. But after a while, I had to hide when I saw a man in the distance. He had a gun and was out hunting. Even though he was far away, I was still worried he might see me so I hid. I thought he would leave soon, but he didn’t and I was stuck hiding in a ditch for about fifteen minutes before he came towards me. Soon he was close enough that I would be risking him seeing me if I didn’t leave. But by the time I got the courage to get up, he close enough to see me, antenna and all. He was only about five feet away. His jaw dropped. Cautiously, he moved toward me and pulled out his phone and took a picture before I had a chance to say anything.

And then he pulled out his gun. He aimed it at me and had his finger on the trigger and-”

I am stopped when Mrs. Margaret gasps. “Sorry,” she says. “This is just so intense.”

“Anyway,” I go on. “He had his finger on the trigger and I think he was about to shoot when we heard the loud siren of an ambulance going by, and he was distracted for just long enough for me to run away. From where he was, he probably still could’ve shot me, but I guess he decided not to. For once something good happened. Not that I didn’t still have problems. I looked like a freak and I had no idea where I was. And for all I knew, at any given moment security guards from the circus could come for me and take me back. But as I went along I never saw any circus people. Soon I saw signs about a town nearby, and I fought hunger and kept going until I got there, dodging people and cars passing by.

Finally, I got to the town. Luckily, when I avoided people and stayed far enough away, I guess they just assumed that I was just wearing a really weird Halloween costume. Even then, I still didn’t like the awkward stares I got from people that saw me so I bought a large hoody, put it on, and pulled the hood over my head and hid my three left hands in the large pocket in the center. I also got a bite to eat with the little money I had in my pocket, and I found out where I was. Finally things were going my way. All I had to do was call a friend to take me home. The only problem was my appearance. I was practically a monster now. If my friend was driving me home, she would definitely be close enough to see that everything was more than a costume, and of course there was my voice, which now sounded like a dog growling. I would have to come up with a story of what was wrong with my voice, and of why she couldn’t see my face or my left hand, or, I guess, left hands. Then I could go home, get plastic surgery, and get on with my life.

I was in such a good mood, though, that I decided to do something fun while I was in town, even though I didn’t have any means of transportation. I found out that the state fair was in that town, so I decided to go there and have some fun. At first I was just going to walk, but then I found a bus and just used it instead. Once I got there, though, on a wall on one of the buildings, there was a wanted poster. And it had a picture of me. It looked like it was probably the one that the guy with the gun had taken on his phone. I wanted to get a better look at it and read it, but I was swept away by a large crowd of children and their parents headed toward the mirror house. I decided to go in also, but it was too late that I remembered what happened when I looked into a mirror. The first part was the maze. I looked around, and everywhere I looked I saw reflections of myself, and again, Medusa. I have no idea how many times I saw the snake-haired figure, and instantly countless things started happening to me, examples being my right hand getting green and pale and covered in warts just like my left hand, my feet growing very large and breaking and tearing apart my shoes, and I grew feathers all over almost all of my body. I tried to get out of the maze, but I couldn’t make it out and had no choice but to go through, and to close my eyes when I could to avoid looking at any mirrors.

Once I made it through the house of mirrors, I knew I had to get out of the fair. I had to get out before anyone got a good enough look at me to realize that I was not wearing a costume. I remember hearing a kid scream, “Mommy! What is that monster?” I was running away too fast to hear the reply. When I was finally out of there, I kept running, not listening to what people said. After all I’d been through, I just needed someone to talk to.”

I stop talking and take another sip of water. I put the cup down, and then pick it up again and gulped the entire thing down, what is left of it anyway. I sigh. Mrs. Margaret finishes my story for me.

“And then you saw my place, and ran in without an appointment, but since I wasn’t busy I agreed to talk with you and here we are now.”

“Right,” I tell her. But then she does something strange. She points up at the sign that says her name.

“Have you ever wondered what my middle initial was?” She asks, and she smiles at me really weird.

“No. Uh..what is it?”

“I’ll tell you.” Mrs. Margaret pulls off her turquoise hat. Several snakes, which must have been very cramped under that hat, instantly spring up from where they had been sleeping on her head under her hat just seconds ago.

Molly M. Margaret’s middle initial is Medusa.

THE END...OR IS IT?

 
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