writingprompt: becoming a monster
I thought it would happen suddenly, like it does in the movies. First you see the man, silhouetted by an unseen light source. Then the close-up of his features. You recognize him as a friend, but his expression is foreign, twisted into an unrecognizably sinister smile. The warped music booms in the background, and you know.
I thought when I transformed into a monster, it would happen like that. People would see me on the streets and back away in horror, as if they could see the blood dripping from my fingertips. No, nobody notices, just as nobody noticed me before the transformation. I'm the invisible man, and my hideously transformed body and soul are just as invisible as my human self had been. Nobody sees the knife in my hand nor the blood on my shirt and pants, sinking in slowly to stain my skin.
I thought it would be better if I didn't know her. I followed the rules of evading capture. Chose someone of a different ethnic group, but not so different that it would make me seem racist when the tabloids caught hold. Someone pleasant looking, but not so good that the city would convulse in repulsion at the deed. I chose someone as unnoticeable as myself.
So why can't they see me now? I cleaned and tossed the knife, of course. I dissolved the clothes in lye. I sank the body in the river. I did everything right. Nobody will catch me.
But this imprint on my soul. The sinister expression that reveals a monster. Why can't they see that? The checker at the grocery store smiles as I swipe my card. A neighbor waves as I get out of my car. Stupid people, who don't see a monster in this skin.
After I do the dishes, I will consume them all.