Monstrilio

by Gerardo Sámano Córdova

But Santiago said no, God chooses who he cares for, and he hadn’t chosen us. But, Santiago added, we shouldn’t be sad, God had too many rules anyway, and did we really want to follow so many rules?

Wouldn’t that have been a groundbreaking discovery, someone bringing a creature to life solely with their own grief and a prodigious unwillingness to let go?

So easy I sometimes worried that I was a type of psychopath as yet undiscovered, and then I remembered that if I were a true psychopath, I wouldn’t fear being one.

He wasn’t Monstrilio anymore, but he wasn’t Santiago either. Santiago was dead. There was solace in keeping his memory unchanged. He was a place to visit, like a book reread.