Short Story: The Little Monster

The Little Monster

by Arden Rose

It was a warm day in may, they say, when the Little Monster first peered at the sun.

His big eyes reflected the warmth in which he felt and saw. His tiny green hands opened and closed as he felt himself and the world around him.

No bigger than a football, the Litter Monster was cute as could be. Although his face was speckled with black dots and he had tiny little horns sprouting from his head, he did not scare anything around him.

Where did he come from or how did he get there? No one knows.

But that is not the point.

He was one with nature as he stood up. Looking around him he had felt that he was no different from the grass or the sky. But as he touched the ground, the grass began to shrivel and die. He looked up at the sky, and as he breathed, it is said, the sky turned gray.

Being young, he thought nothing of it.

It is said that when he was born, the Little Monster didn't know that in his little hands he held all the power in the world.

He grew exponentially.

At one the world was huge to his Little eyes. He could feel it's beauty but knew nothing of the power he would soon hold.

At five he realized he had more responsibility. Not everything around him was kind. But his world was still simple. He had no knowledge of the power he had.

At fifteen the days grew dark for the Little Monster. He had more black dots than every, and he wasn't so little anymore. He began to see the sky turning gray. He started to understand his power.

But he did nothing.

As he grew older and older, the grass turned to dust and the sky got darker and darker. The poor Little Monster hadn't wished for this. He didn't want to destroy the world his big eyes had once marveled at.

But, it is said, it was too late when he realized he could use his power for good.

That for every plant he made wither, he could revive with a new one, and make sure to water it.

That if he breathed a little lighter, the sky could be more blue.

That if he didn't stop so hard on his birthplace, the ground would be whole.

But it was too late. The damage was done.

He was old now. His horns were great and ugly. The dots on his face huge and menacing. He scared the world around him.

The Little Monster looked at the world he had destroyed. He had wished, then and there, that he hadn't been given so much power.

The he lay down to die.

Leaving the world he once marveled at, in ruins.