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My Monster

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My name is Josh, and up until a week ago, I was just an average guy living an average high school life, and hating everything about it. This story isn’t really about me though. It actually starts with my great grandfather,Felix A. Pestiferous. Yeah, weird name, I know. Any way. Great grandpa Felix was a Satanist. He kidnapped women, raped and killed them. That’s not the scary part though, I’m not even close to that yet. It happened that Felix had impregnated one of these women, and instead of killing her and the baby, he let her go. She was too poor to afford an abortionist, so she was forced to have the baby. It was a healthy baby girl, with black hair and rosy cheeks. Five years passed, and the baby never met her father. That is, until her sixth birthday. That night, after getting a lovely new dress and dancing so much she thought she’d puke, she curled up in her warm little bed and drifted off into her sleep. That was the last good sleep she’d ever have. For the window opened itself late that night, and the child was stolen, lost from the world outside that big black mansion.

Nonalee didn’t care that she had been taken away from her mother. She didn’t care that she wasn’t going to school or seeing her friends. She didn’t care about all the scary black stars on the walls or the screams from the basement. But she hated her father with a passion. And that passion only grew in her.

It was Nonalee’s eighth birthday, when her father dragged her into the basement, and did her the same as all the others, only, she didn’t receive the relief of being killed afterwards. She was just stuck. So she went up to the big empty attic, with a box of crayons in her hand, and she drew something. Something that watched the door, the window, the floor, the corners, her bed, everything. She called it, “My Monster.”

Most people wouldn’t find the drawing that scary. It was a big black circular face with big round eyes that had red pupils slit like cats’ eyes. And it’s body was shrouded in black. No, what was scary and is scary about My monster is it’s big horrendous smile, with blood always pouring over the left corner of his mouth. It’s teeth are like humans, but the smile stretches from one ear to the other, literally. But My monster does not have ears.

A few days passed before Nonalee was forced to leave the attic and steal food from the kitchen. To avoid getting caught, she used an old crawl space. That’s how she got to her room for clothes, and to the bathroom for potty breaks. Other than that, she’d stare up from her bed at the big smiling picture and talk to it, telling it what an evil man her father was.

Nonalee noticed, that the drawings became more real with each day that she spoke to it. In the middle of the night she’d wake up and hear heavy breathing or dark laughter.

On one of her trips to the kitchen for food, she got stuck in the crawl space, and Felix found her struggling to climb back up to the attic.

He tore her out and beat her mercilessly, locking her in the basement and hurrying up to the attic, which was locked. He didn’t think, he got an ax from the tool shed and tore the door down. What met him on the other side, was My monster. But he wasn’t a drawing on the wall anymore…

Two days went by before the police came and took the tortured women and little Nonalee from that basement. On her way out, she was met with a little cat, it was small and black with big red eyes and slit pupils. She knew exactly who the cat was, and picked him up, carrying him away.

It’s been over fifty years since then, and my grandmother Nonalee is dead, leaving me with two things; a drawing on my wall just over my bed, and a little black cat.

Sometimes the cat disappears. But it walks me back and forth to school, and it only eats raw meat. The cat never naps in the sun, and prefers the shade. It’s extremely nocturnal, and only gets up to walk me to the school down the road.

Here’s the scary thing. I’ve read the files on Felix’s death. According to the police records, he was torn open, and much of his organs had been…Eaten.

No one knows what became of the old mansion. Some say Grandma burned it.
Others say it still stands,and that the monster is waiting for Nonalee’s return.

All I know, is I was once bullied in second grade. The bully, was never seen again. And neither Was Felix, when they came for the body.

Maybe you can make sense of my Grandma’s past. After all, everyone has their own special monster. Have you ever spoke with yours…?

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  • derpbutt

    Really, this is almost right. It’s just… there are some weird bits. For example: what does the first sentence have to do with the rest of the story? What happened last week? The beginning implies that something that began with his grandfather is what made him suddenly not a normal teenager, but you never pick up that thread again.

    Sometimes when you write the story will sort of change itself, which is fine, you just have to remember to go back and edit the parts that no longer fit within the story.

    Tighten it up a bit, resubmit, and I’d totally post it on creepypasta.

  • Shutler

    A very interesting story with a good concept. But yeah as said before why last week?

  • Yes Man

    Oh yes, everyone has their own special monster. Mine happens to torture my sanity and test my patience. I call it “My Sister.”

  • undeadmuffins

    Not bad! This was Good stuff, I didn’t personally love it but its a good pasta for sure. If you clean it up a bit it would be even better. Its better than a good quantity of stories I’ve seen on creepypasta. Pretty good work.

  • jklomu/whawha

    Not all monsters are bad. There are many kinds: Demons, good, angelic, neutral, corrupted, and others. This monster is between neutral and corrupted, neutral because of Nonalee, and corrupted because it kills and eats humans. Good monsters wouldn’t kill a human, but it may get them in trouble.

  • jklomu/whawha

    With me post before, its more towards neutral. Everyone does have a monster. That monster is called an Id (ihd) and its made by imagination, but it can become real if it takes over your mind. Ways to let them control you is the rage you build up towards one or more things. It almost took me over some times, but I don’t let it control me, I will control it.


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