Creating A Monster

My entry for the Carry On Writing Competition. A girl find herself in trouble when she wakes up in after an explosion. It has interesting consequences.


1. Creating A Monster

The blast threw her back, her head catching the edge of the worktable; her teeth clattering as the backfire catapulted her away. She was unconscious for a while. It seemed like seconds to her, but when her pale teal eyes peeled open,it was reaching the early hours of day – the sun bled through the now half-shattered, clouded windows. She’d only reached the building at just gone eight o’clock; the burst wasn’t until gone nine. It would probably be best that she reached her home, her parents before the day was too far gone.


Her legs felt odd the moment she clambered to her feet from the hard concrete floor. Her hands were shaking, but she simply wrote it off as being left in the cold overnight. Sapphire orbs scanned the room, hoping to find an exit – possibly similar to the way she entered? She saw none, not until she looked further over, at the big garage-styled door covered in practically an entire home catalogue – chairs lodged between the broken shards of wood and a table somehow entangled between it all. There was a small, child-sized hole in the corner, if she was lucky and careful enough, she could make it through easily enough. She tried. She got through, although not exactly easily – a deep cut formed quickly at her hip, another snaking to her cheek, just below her eye. If she was unlucky, it would scar.


She made it to her street within a few minutes, she was somehow surprised. She didn’t remember how she had gotten to the fraying building – she knew, however, that there was some sort of chemical element that had attracted her to the explosion. 


The door slammed behind her. Her hope of entering unnoticed forgotten with the patter of footsteps making its way towards her. She was frozen to the spot, there was no escape this time. Her mother’s disappointed glare hit her within seconds, her insides becoming a battle between annoyance and relief. She was home. She was safe. For now at least.


“Where the hell have you been?!” was the first response she received from her mother. Her disappointed look had turned viciously into anger, and her piercing gaze prodding her like a sewing needle. Small, yet still severely stinging.


“I was… Something came up. Sorry. I… my phone was dead?” that was the best she could do. It wasn’t an entire lie – her phone could be dead. She didn’t know. She didn’t know where it was. Her mother wouldn’t accept that; she should have known.


“Not good enough. Where. Were. You?” her disappointment in herself, in not telling her mother, turned to malice. She couldn’t just let it go, could she? Ugh.


“Well? I need to be with a client soon. Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to just assume that you’ve been doing something disapproving – just like always.” Her stomach was tight, her muscles doing anything but expanding. She couldn’t let this go?


“WELL?!” something inside her burst.


Her mother’s eyes grew wide, almost bug-like. Her eyes drifting immediately to her daughter’s dainty hands, for the first time finding them more interesting than a bottle of whiskey.


“What?!” her daughter exclaimed – causing her mother’s stern tone, telling her to see for herself. Her eyes too, drifted down. Her un-calloused hands were now engulfed in flames. She didn’t feel a thing. As if the fire didn’t affect her. Her mother moved quickly closer, edging inch after inch towards her. She instinctively put her hands up – a shot of amber erupting from her index finger. She gasped, her mother did too, moving away.


“Mother, please.” She pleaded, her hands creating an almost prayer like form, towards her mother’s ever receding form. A burn mark quickly formed on her mother’s neck, centimetres from her collarbone – ash-like burn marks showing through her white nightwear.


“Get out.” Fear unhidden in her mother’s stare.


“Please.” Another blast losing itself. She cradled her hand. How do I stop this? How? The curtains her mother so prided engulfed in fire.


“No. Get out.” She stood for a minute longer “Go!” she turned, her hands shaking again. What happened last night?


It didn’t matter anymore. She needed help. Fire burst on to an abandoned coat in the street. Her fear was indescribable. A water bottle was discarded nearby. She cautiously tried to open it – hoping she wouldn’t break yet another piece. The water pooled around the coat – the flames were gone, but now she saw something more dangerous.


She saw herself. 

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