"Ahhhh!" A young woman shrieks. "Monster!" a man yells from the crowd. "kill it!" another woman yells. All the townspeople gather, hearing the noise. "Ew, what is that thing?" a woman asks disgusted. "Let's chase it out," A man suggests. "no, the only way to take care of it is to kill it," another man says. All the townsmen gather with pitchforks and swords. They all surround the monster. The monster slowly tries to back away but to no avail. They have it surrounded and ready to kill it.
The monster whines similarly to a dog. "Why don't we just chase it away? it seems like it won't hurt anyone," one of the men suggests. "We don't know if it's an act or not. for all we know, it could be trying to play with our emotions so we don't kill it!" A man shouts. "Yeah!" most of the townspeople shout, agreeing. A few of the men charge the creature stabbing it in all of its limbs. The creature lets out a whine of pain. "It might be calling its friends! Kill it before they come!" A woman shouts. One of the men has their sword up, prepared to cut off its head.
"Hold it right there," A man in the crowd stops them. "Nathan," One of the men says. All the women swoon at the near sight of the man. He's tall with green eyes and dark black hair. "What's going on here?" Nathan asks, looking at the creature. The creature looks up at him with tears in its eyes. It's surprising that Nathan hasn't looked at it disgusted yet. "We're in the process of killing this creature before it kills us," one of the townsmen declares. Nathan walks up to the creature, "it doesn't seem violent to me." One of the men huffs, "We don't know that it isn't so better to kill it now than find out later."
Nathan sighs, "I'll take responsibility for it. I'll put it to work and kill it if it shows any signs of violence." The townspeople agree as they all make their way back to their homes. Nathan turns to the creature and leads it to the barn next to his home. "you will stay here, and you will not cause any trouble. I will get you in the morning to start work," Nathan tells the creature before heading into his home for the night.
The next morning Nathan goes to the barn to collect the creature. All of its wounds are healed. "seems you have healing abilities that make it easier for us to put you to work," Nathan tells it. Nathan puts a large color and chain on the creature's neck before leading it out to the village. Most of the villagers stayed away from the creature, but the woman came over just to talk to Nathan. He was the hunk of the town every woman wanted to be with him. However, he didn't seem interested in any of them.
Over the course of a month, the townspeople warmed up to the creature. The creature helped carry heavy objects from place to place. Nathan and the creature became very close. Nathan started to let the creature stay in his home with him and he never left without it. One day Nathan and the creature were sitting in front of the fire. "Over these past few months, I've begun to love you. I don't understand why you're a monster and you can't even speak but you're so kind-hearted and sweet it's hard not to love you."
Just then, the creature glowed purple and transformed into a beautiful woman. She had blonde long hair and brown eyes. "Thank you so much! You lifted the curse," She said with tears in her eyes. "Wait, you were cursed this whole time?" Nathan asked. She nodded, "Yes, I was cursed as a monster until someone could love me." She leaned close to Nathan's face, "And you love me." Nathan started to blush, "What's your name?" "My name is Amara," she told him. "Well then Amara, I do love you," He leaned in and kissed her.
About the Creator
MizuNania
I'm an amateur writer who hopes to become a professional writer in the future. I mainly enjoy writing fiction and reading!
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
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OF MOTHERHOOD.
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