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As a kid, I was sure monsters existed. The closet? Loaded with them. Fireplace? Crawling with little creatures from a movie I shouldn’t have watched. It seems fitting to write about them now.
I started writing Finding Monsters via a writer’s prompt about something occurring from childhood that occurs again when you get older. Monsters under the bed seemed like a perfect choice…. But with a twist!
Here is an excerpt from Finding Monsters:
From the monster’s point of view
I should be dead. I’m afraid to open my eyes just in case I am. The surface I am lying on
feels soft like a bed but how can that be? I stir and hear the rustle of coverlets. I clinch my hands
and feel the soft blanket covering my body. It has all the familiar feelings of home but it can’t be
true. I venture a tentative look. The room is dark and only small slivers of light escape the heavy
drapes covering the windows. The stone walls come into focus, my room. A familiar hand soothes
my brow, and I hear a voice beside the bed.
“Wake up, my son.”
I instantly recognize the voice of my mother. “Mother, where am I?”
“You’re home.” She continues to rub my brow, hair, and arms. She leans forward and I see her face for the first time in a long while. She smiles but her face is pinched in concern. Her large, gray eyes are moist from crying but she is still beautiful. I’ve really missed her face. She kisses my forehead and embraces me. I want to ask her why I am not dead, but a figure standing near the door interrupts my thoughts.
“Mother, leave us now. I need to speak to our son alone.”
I hear the disapproving voice of my father. I cling to my mother’s hand in an attempt to get her to stay. She kisses me again and pats my arm for reassurance before she obeys my father and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
My father is slow in his approach to my bedside. His features remain hidden in the dimness of the room so I am unable to read his face. “You should have come to us, son. You broke the rules.” He is pacing at the foot of the bed now. His hands wring the end of his tunic in a nervous gesture I’ve seen dozens of times.
“I know, father. I’m sorry.” Something in his voice tells me he is not as angry as he should be. I try to push myself into a sitting position. My muscles protest and strain against my efforts. Father rushes in and stops me.
“No, you are not well enough. Don’t try to sit up.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his chest. He rocks me like a child and strokes my back.
“Why am I not dead?” I ask, my voice muffled against his strong shoulder, for I should be dead. Father is silent for several minutes before he speaks, his voice barely a whisper.
“If your mother and I had not found you in time you would be dead. You broke the rules, son. You should have let the human child die. Why didn’t you come to us for help?”
My father’s words seep through the fog in my brain. They are like a faint flutter that keeps getting louder and louder. Finally, the meaning rings clear but they can’t be true. “Father, Missy is dead. My human is dead.”
“Your human lives because you live, son.”
About the Author:
Liss Thomas currently lives in sunny Florida when tornados and water spouts are not popping up in her backyard. She loves Young Adult Fiction and writes fantasy in that genre. She released her debut novel Finding Monsters in October of 2012 and is planning to release the sequel, Becoming Monsters in October 2013. She also plans to release a novella from the same universe entitled, Hidden Monsters sometime this year.
Get to know her characters and her style at www.lissthomas.com
MY ONLINE SERIALS
HIDDEN MONSTERS: http://lissthomas.com/serial-novels/hidden-monsters/
BEYOND PACIFICA: http://lissthomas.com/serial-novels/beyond-pacifica/