Only Half Monster

The world is divided in two, the Vasco and the humans. You could almost say the Vasco had superpowers, but the reality is much, much darker. In a destroyed world where the Vasco rule, the humans are being slaughtered, and towns obliterated.

Z is a young man with a secret that must never get out, for he fits in neither with the humans nor the Vasco. But after reminiscing with his past, and a series of unfortunate events, he is thrust into the war and he must get his hands dirty if he wants to uncover the truth about himself and those around him.

It seems you can never truly know a person, until you know yourself.

Note: I've currently drafted 30,000 words of this story, but needs significant editing before uploading. Names of characters will change at some point, and chapters will soon be changed to delete plot holes and remove pointless ramblings.

If you're enjoying the story, please leave a like/favourite, and feedback is greatly appreciated!


2. Bad Memories

Chapter 2


'Bad Memories'


Z could clearly remember what his house used to look like, even after all these years; a large, cottage house, painted a pearly cream colour, with darker shades bordering the front door and various windows. Flower pots, home to red and white roses situated all over the front porch and back yard, giving off a very homely feeling. This, combined with the multiple amicable gnomes, sent a warm welcoming feeling to the neighbourhood. But behind closed doors, this household had been through hell and back and so love, care and affection did not exist anymore. It did not exist within the house, and it did not exist within Z.


The house Z stood in front of now was nothing like the past. The once pearly paint was now black with filth and the window frames were covered in a thick layer of grime. The front wooden porch had collapsed in several places and the wooden fencing surrounding the lot had been completely destroyed, toppling in to the overgrown grass. Brambles and evergreen ivy were climbing their way up the walls of the house, making the house look like it had just been ripped out of a jungle. Some of the windows were boarded up and others had been smashed in, leaving shards of glass everywhere. Ceramic pots lay broken on the floor amidst mounds of dirt with dead rose petals scattered about, and there was no sight of a cheerful gnome within a 5 mile radius. Instead of the house giving off a warm sentimental feeling like he had hoped for, it was bringing back the many bad memories of hardship and suffering that had turned his life, as well as many others’ lives, upside down. Z inched closer towards the broken stairway of the porch, about to step up, when suddenly, he stopped, sensing an unwanted presence. He did not expect to see him here.


“What business do you have with this residence?” came a brassy voice from somewhere behind him. Z turned around slowly, as if surrendering, to face a man, who looked to be in his mid-fifties. He was of an average height, wearing khaki, cargo trousers with a light green, checked shirt that perfectly matched the colour of his eyes. He evened out his black untidy hair before stopping and crossing his arms, a firm expression overcoming his face.

“Well, well…” Z said in an impassive tone. “I’m surprised to see you’re still around,” he added. The man’s eyes widened and he stepped back, straightening his arms. “Who are you!” he shouted, not asking, but demanding an answer. An answer to which Z was not prepared to give him.

“Alistair Seymour...” Z began saying sternly, recalling the reason he had come to this house in the first place. “I don't have time for this," Z suddenly mumbled to himself. The man stood in silence, shocked as he watched Z spring up the steps, disappearing into the shadows of the house.

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