Northern_Lights_2021

9 I debate the question, but it did save me, so I owe it an explanation probably. “A shop owner and his employees decided they had enough of my stealing, so they took it upon themselves to make sure I don’t steal from them again. Joke’s on them, though, because I only want to steal from them more, and now they won’t be expecting me to come back, so I’ve got the element of surprise.” The monster responds, “Is this where the food you gave me came from?” “Yeah,” I reply, “It’s also why the food was messed up. I just had to grab and run.” It doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, as if processing the situation. It eventually asks, “Why did you choose to provide food to me?” Yeah, I was expecting this question. I think for a second and answer, “I guess it was a combination of curiosity in what you are and feeling bad for you. You are alone and practically eating nothing but rats. While I don’t even know if you’re human, it still doesn’t seem right to be eating like a diseased animal.” It hears out my answer and slowly asks, “Would you like to know what I am?” Do I? Do I want my curiosity to drag me further in the story of this thing? Honestly, does it really matter that I’m dragged in? Not really, so I respond, “Yes.” Monster I told her of my life. My creation, Victor, the murders, my attempt to end my life, and my resurrection; I told her everything and she listened. I am not sure I know why I am opening up to this young girl, but I am. Maybe it is out of gratitude. Maybe it is because someone is finally open to listening to my story. Whatever the reason, I have now told it. I finish and she sits in silence, taking in everything I have told her. After a moment of silence, she says, “So you’ve had a pretty shitty life it seems. Here I thought my own life sucked.” Her own life? I wonder what the world could possibly have done to this young girl. “What of your own life? I do not know how people in this time respond to others. If permitted, may I ask why your own life was full of conflict?” She does not answer right away. I see pain flick in her eyes, but it goes away, as though she caught herself exposing herself. I expect her to not answer, but she does. “Why not? You told your life story; I may as well tell mine.” With some shock, I prepare myself to listen to the young girl, the young girl named Emma. The story of the girl with the muddy brown hair and serpent-green eyes. “My earliest memories are of when my parents abandoned me when I was five and I was forced to spend the rest of my childhood in the orphanage because no one wanted me. I don’t know why though. As I like to describe it, I have a very expressive personality that anyone should want in their kid. If I don’t like something, I’ll say it but with colorful language. Nothing wrong with that, though, right? Either way, I didn’t get adopted and the orphanage kicked me out as soon as I turned eighteen.” She paused as if she was reflecting on the tragic events of her life. I couldn’t help but feel sorrow for her. Her life is so similar to mine and I would not wish it on anyone, especially a young woman such as this. I wonder if she realizes our similarities. She continued. “Anyway, I’ve been living on the streets since then.” “For how long?” “A couple of months now I think.” I do not reply to her response at first. I only ponder how the world could let something as vile as this continue. Nothing has changed since I’ve been away. You are either a product of yourself or society. I was a product of Victor, never being loved by my own creator or anyone for the matter, constantly longing to belong to someone but never accomplishing it. I lived a cruel life I had hoped to end when Victor died but failed. Now, it seems some are still falling into the same life as I. Emma also belonged to no one and couldn’t find love from anyone. I finally respond, “How have you handled being shaped by the events of your life only to be abandoned by those who made you?”