Monsters Around Us

I believe in monsters.

The existence of monsters was proven to me again last week, when a shooter, an 18-year-old student, killed another student on my son's college campus, and wounded three others.

Whatever the shooter's motivations for killing, it drove home, very close to home, the fact that our species homosapien walks a thin line between functioning and out-of-control creature.

While the above event had not happened when I wrote my first book, Song of the Ancients, sadly similar scenarios play out around the world every year. Psychopaths. Road Rage. Religious zealots. Terrorists.

How does an author write a human monster? Start with an everyday human. Then give him an acute stress. Or a rigid belief. Or make him a functioning sociopath, and then twist him.

In my book, the monster is witch-gone-to-the-dark side Nuin Ash. He's trying to open a portal in a Sedona vortex sealed for centuries, release his demon Lord from the Underworld, and loan that demon his human form.

There's the twisted thinking.

How can Nuin make himself strong enough to withstand demonic possession?  By stealing power from other witches. Since a witch's power resides in the blood, he is killing the most powerful witches he can find and eating their flesh.

There's a name for a monster like Nuin: Wendigo.

Legends of this creature date back for centuries, and have almost always been associated with the act of cannibalism. In fact, one persistent tale details the Wendigo’s origin as being that of a human who was forced to resort to consuming his peers (no doubt in an unfortunate Donner Party-esque situation) in order to survive a particularly brutal winter.

 The problem with Nuin's plan, of course, is that once he delves into dark magic, it consumes him. The man becomes the monster, driven to hunt and hurt people without remorse. The classic definition of a sociopath, this time driven to the extreme.

 I think the most memorable killers in fiction are sociopaths, able to mask the monster within, at least initially. And the most frightening monster is that which is indistinguishable from madness. So it is with Nuin. In his own selfish need for power, he gives in to darkness and abandons his humanity.

Here's an excerpt, where Nicholas Orenda, the man hunting the killer, gets his first clue about the monster he is after:

Why would someone sneak into a cemetery and bury a body? He could think of a number of mundane reasons, but why would a witch do so? Unless he defiled the body and didn't want anyone to know. His hole grew deeper and his unease increased.

Only three feet down his shovel hit something firmer than the soft soil, connecting with a muffled thud. Digging carefully down one side, he cleared a space to stand beside the box. He removed the crowbar from his sack and pried the coffin nails from one side, muttering softly, "Coffin nail, familiars of maggots unsavory creatures of the kind. Do my bidding, my evil works, when I so command." Blowing on the nails, he pocketed them and opened the lid.

He held his breath and shone the flashlight on the body, a young woman, barely past her teens. Her hands had been folded on her chest. He ran the flashlight further down, illuminating several places on her right arm where jagged chunks of flesh were missing.

Burning bile rose in his throat, making him gag and cough. "Something chewed on this girl. Oh, Goddess, tell me she died first."
 
Yes, there's also a demon in the story. But I think Nuin is the scarier of the two. He's a handsome, flirtatious, functioning human going through the motions of everyday life.

Until he's not.

This week proved, once again, he's not alone.