Summer of the Monsters

by David Sodergren

We are born, we live, and then we die.

She selected 1979 by the Smashing Pumpkins, and the music — as music is prone to doing — immediately transported her to those young and supposedly carefree days of teenage ennui and rebellion.

The greatest television takes place in the human mind. But he was an author, so of course he said dumb shite like that.

Like most parents, he seemed to have fooled himself into thinking his daughter couldn’t tell when he was lying, forgetting that after the Santa Claus debacle, children treated every utterance from their parents with supreme suspicion.

And when the sun rose the next morning, casting golden rays across the forest and turning the sky red, all that remained of the girl — of the foolish girl who hadn’t believed — were some shredded clothes and a mottled clump of dark, bloody hair. For her, the fleeting dream of life had come to an end.

“Apparently there’s a stone circle nearby, and a witch’s grave in the next town over, but we should save some excitement for next week.”

Maggie? that you?

It’s high school. It’s supposed tae be shite, so that when we get old and start pissin’ ourselves, we winnae look back and wish we were young, cos it wid mean going back tae school, dontcha think?”

A broad grin stretched across his boyish face. “Monsters,” he said, with a knowing nod. “They were killed by big fuck-off monsters.”

“Life can be hard without someone to talk to.”

For surely even a little happiness was preferable to none at all?

“You bastard,” she growled, her body jerking as the monster shredded her stomach. How many times did she have to tell him to wear his fucking glasses?

“But I think you have to keep going, because sometimes you find happiness in the most unexpected places, don’t you?”

“Life’s unfair,” he said calmly. “Haven’t you realised that yet? It gives you everything, then takes it all away.”