# The Kid Who Names Monsters - 1840 Words - Mature Themes, Adult Language



## HumanYoYo (Jul 30, 2014)

Hello! Trying to come up with a short story here. Feedback would be much appreciated.... It's my first post, by the way, just sayin'.



I decided that I was to go over to Dom’s place and torture him until he dies. No, only joking, but really, fuck Dom… _prick_. You know what Dom did? Can you even guess? I’ll tell you what he did. Here it goes: Last night, while out at the city, digging the fireworks, getting smashed, and generally enjoying ourselves, Dom fucking went up to Gwyn, _my girlfriend_, and he _copped a feel_. You see, I keep an eye out for these sorts of things. Even when I'm smashed, I know what goes on around me. And what he did makes me sick… Well, her back was turned to me, but his hand was definitely on her shoulder, at least... leaning in for something. Anyway, I didn't need _x-ray fucking vision_ to know what was going on over there. Right when the whistlers went up, you know those real loud ones? Right when they got shot up, I saw them. And it’s not like he was _that_ smashed. The guy knew what he was doin’. I can’t stop thinking about it, man. Of course we got into a fight. And yes, I was maybe a bit more hammered than he was. That was his edge. Now my face hurts. I hope I didn't fracture my orbital bones. 

     I didn't bother going back home afterwards. I went to my folk’s place out in North Van. I got in late, slept downstairs, and woke up to the smell of bacon. That helped a bit to cool down my thoughts. I got a shower and washed away any residue, blood or otherwise, that had dried into a terrible crust. Then I went upstairs. My folks were a bit worried, but I said it was fine. 

     I got home a little while later. Gwyn wasn't there when I got in. There was no note or anything. She’s just embarrassed. She’ll get over it… understand: I got to protect what’s mine. I thought about going over to Dom’s to start another fight when I’m sober and ready to go. I’d make sure she sees it. If she refused to observe passively then I’d videotape it and I’d make sure she sees it later. I’d put it up on YouTube maybe. 

     There’s been a lot of ants around the apartment recently… gotta remember to clean up spilled juice. Whatever, I kind of like them. They’re ‘neat.’ More efficient than me at least - I can’t even win a fight against Dom. 

     I still felt tired, so I got another shower. There was still blood pooling down and diluting with the water in the tub. But there was no more dried blood on me. Which meant that I was still bleeding somewhere. But where? It was driving me nuts. 

     On the television, they were showing one of those old monster movies. You know, like from the 40s or 50s? On it, there were these giant crawly bugs everywhere and people were rushing through the streets screaming their heads off - some sort of weird practical effect back then, can’t figure out how they did it, with the bugs climbing over the roofs of the city skyscrapers, and all the actors streaming down beneath. Planes came in at one point to drop this strange elixir the main scientist character somehow figured out would work on them. It was sort of gooey and glowing. This Japanese kid, surfing on a wave of fate and luck, unbelievably important to the plot somehow, informed the council of government men and scientists that he had named the bugs “Kunadāku.” Nobody seemed to have any problem with it.

     Figured out that I was bleeding from my right ear. That really is not good. Figured maybe I should go to the ER. I tried Gwyn on her phone to see if she could take me. She didn’t pick up. I sent her a text saying:

     Me – Hey. I’m sorta bleeding from the ear here…

     Gwyn – Wut?

     Me – Yah. From last night I guess…

     Then she called me.

     “Hi,” is what I said.

     “OK. What is happening? You’re really bleeding from the ears?”

     “Yah, it’s only one ear. It’s probably fine. Whatever.”

     “No, not ‘whatever’. How are you feeling?”

     “A little tired. Got a headache. ‘T’s about it.”

     “God, Henry. What the hell’s your matter!”

     “’What’s my matter?’ I think you got that a bit-“

     “I’m coming over right now. Don’t go to sleep or anything, cause you probably have like a concussion or something, and I heard you could go into a coma. Just wait there.”

     “Well I’ve already been to sleep. Last night. And I’m fine, Gwyn... Gwyn?”

     But she had hung up already. 

     I did some thinking waiting for her to show. I am sometimes violent and impulsive, I figure. Sometimes I let things inside of me take control. It’s not the drugs or anything. I remember being this way all my life. I wasn’t exactly a bully in school. I wasn’t bull_ied_ either. I sat at the back there where no one could find me. I’d be the kid who’d go out the gymnasium doors during P.E. and smoke. I’d stay and develop photos in the school darkroom. I remember making a collection of photographs from around the neighbourhood of elderly people, smiling babies, skateboarders in the air, dead pianos lit on fire for art, in the moment, loving it, content… but then some kid just had to say something to me and I was set off. I really hurt some people, sometimes. It’s a miracle I stayed out of juvie, I’m serious, man. I wish I knew what it was inside me that gnashes its teeth and snarls and takes control. It’s a monster that I can’t understand, that I can’t even name. No council to plan an attack. No scientist to figure out an elixir. No little Japanese boy to give it a title.

     What I’m trying to say is that, I guess I’m really just a collection of different emotions and thoughts all fighting against each other, each rustling about to get in control. All it really ever takes is a nudge in a certain direction, and I’m off. It hurts when I realize that for every state, every ‘positive’ or ‘pleasant’ mode like love or feelings of connection to other people, there is countless more that fill me with hate or envy or self-doubt. I can’t help but feel worthless sometimes. I try to force myself to be optimistic. I practice smiling, cause I read somewhere that it releases endorphins. But I can never quite rid myself of the feeling that I’m like a dog waiting in an empty house for its master to come home, but the wait is endless. The master never shows. The dog curls up next to the closed door…

     Gwyn really kills me. Really. God, she’s funny. She showed up and immediately walked up to me and checked out my ear, as if she thought she were a doctor or something. “Damn it. Still bleeding a bit,” was the first thing she said.

     “Well, darlin’, don’t want to worry you or nuthin’, but I saw a TV movie a few years back where this kid got smashed upside the head and was knocked out cold for a long time. Woke up like a month or two later. Had to relearn to walk and everything.”

     “Car’s down in the front,” she said pertinently, “why the hell d’you do that last night?”

     “God, I don’t know, Gwyn. I don’t know…” Jesus, was I crying? God...

     “Okay, just, let’s get down to the car is all,” She said. She didn’t understand any more than anyone why I was acting like this, let alone how to deal with a mess like me. I’ve been going crazy, lately, I think. Like it was… what? An hour ago that I was fantasising about killing Dom? _Videotaping it? Putting it online?_ That’s some serial killer shit. 

     Well, I’ll make it short. It’s nothing too bad. Just a concussion. Some minor brain damage never hurt nobody. The nurse was nice. Kept coming around asking if I wanted juice. I even went into one of those MRI machines. On the way back I asked Gwyn if we should stop at the liquor store. “Jesus, Henry,” is what she said, “you’ve already lost enough brain cells as it is.”

     “I see your point,” is what I said.

     We got back to the apartment and she cooked up a can of tomato soup. I told her it’s not like I have a cold or nothing. I can still eat, you know, solids? She told me to stop bitchin’.  Then I asked about Dom last night and what they were doing and she got pissed off a little. She told me that I am unable to trust her, and how could she be expected to trust someone who doesn’t trust her, and they weren’t doing anything, anyway, and it was all in my head. I must have zoned out cause next thing I knew the soup was all gone. Then I felt really sick. Went to the bathroom and barfed out a lung. I got really freaked out cause I had forgotten that I had eaten the soup and I thought my insides were spilling out or something. 

     After that was over, we curled up on the couch and I started to explain to her the plot of the movie I had watched earlier, that monster one. But I guess I was falling asleep at the same time so my words became asymptotically slower and more slurred until they transitioned into snoring. 

     I slept through most of the next day. Around four I finally got up off the couch and went down to the store. I bought a squid to fry up. The guy at the counter put it in some brown paper. I bought some vegetables as well, and even some flowers, to make it romantic. Hopefully it would get across the message, _see, I’m not such a total fuck-up_. I got back to the apartment and as I walked in I made a sort of weird sound and I kind of flinched as I remembered Dom the other night. God, it was already a painful memory. I cut up the squid the way my parents do and then I put some oil on the pan. I turned on the radio and put on a classical station. “Fratres for Cello and Piano” by Arvo Pärt was playing and I found it very affecting. The phone rang. It was Gwyn. 

     “Hello… Guinevere,” like the way Seinfeld always addresses Newman. 

     “Hey, you feeling alright?” 

     “Yes, m’ love,” trying to keep things cheery. 

     “That’s good… I’ll be home soon,” she said.

     “Alright, umm…”

     “Yah?”

     “Well I’m just sorry is all,” awkwardly.

     “…We’ll talk when I get back.”

     “Kosher,” is what I said. 

     She got home and we ate dinner together at the table for once. “Very thoughtful,” is what she told me, “keep you around another week.” 




.......... Still trying to figure out where to go from there.


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## Apex (Aug 6, 2014)

cc


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## Ethan (Aug 9, 2014)

for me, the first two lines didn't work, thereafter you really hit your stride. It progressed well and has enough Hook to keep me reading, Although from this snapshot it's hard to gauge the MC's personality and what you intend, but he comes across as a bit wet. It's kinda hard to identify with a woose if he's going to be the hero of the piece. One other little thought, you wouldn't be offered a drink when you have a head injury! Otherwise it's an engaging piece and certainly well paced and believeable. I would definitely read more.


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## EmmaSohan (Aug 9, 2014)

Made the character come alive, so I wanted to keep reading. Nice job. Small thing -- "asymptotically" didn't work for me, unless you are setting up this character to be really smart.


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## Dubhthaigh (Aug 10, 2014)

Hi 
Should "I got another shower" be "I took another shower"? Or maybe that's just the way that it's said where you're from.
I like how strong a character Henry is, and how his style of speech is consistent and well defined. 
I agree about the above opinion about the words ' asymptotically '    sticks out like a sore thumb.
I enjoyed reading this


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## HumanYoYo (Aug 10, 2014)

> Made the character come alive, so I wanted to keep reading. Nice job. Small thing -- "asymptotically" didn't work for me, unless you are setting up this character to be really smart.



Thanks for reading! And I agree about asymptotically. Don't know what I was thinking. Maybe writing at 4 am isn't the best idea?


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## HumanYoYo (Aug 10, 2014)

> Hi
> 
> 
> 
> ...



Thanks for taking the time to read it!
Not sure about the "got" vs "took", guess I never really thought about it. "Got" makes it sound like he "received" a shower, which is a bit weird.


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## HumanYoYo (Aug 11, 2014)

> for me, the first two lines didn't work, thereafter you really hit your stride. It progressed well and has enough Hook to keep me reading, Although from this snapshot it's hard to gauge the MC's personality and what you intend, but he comes across as a bit wet. It's kinda hard to identify with a woose if he's going to be the hero of the piece. One other little thought, you wouldn't be offered a drink when you have a head injury! Otherwise it's an engaging piece and certainly well paced and believeable. I would definitely read more.



Thanks for the feedback!
Yes, Henry is a bit of a goodfornuthin' - wet noodle type guy. I guess I just wound up writing a character who thinks he is more tough than he actually is.
The thing about what I've been writing recently is that I just come up with a personality trait of a character and set up a first scene, then I almost let the character write the story, if that makes sense. Sometimes it doesn't really go anywhere. If the character is a self-obsessed slacker like Henry, it's hard to see that there will be much of an arc. But maybe it'll go somewhere if I tweak it here and there. Never know...


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## Ethan (Aug 11, 2014)

O.K. works for me. I often find that the characters write themselves into situations/predicaments,that even as the author, I don't know how to get them out of so I sympathise completely with your observation. My comment on you MC was more of an observation rather than a criticism, glad to see you understood that.


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