Monster

Panting heavily, she stood in front of the table, staring at the black remnants of the table cloth, of a few of Katja's books that had been lying there, and of the advent wreath with candles that had been standing there. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became to her, that it must have been the candles that had caused the fire.

'But I haven't used them. I am sure I didn't light them.'

"Are you really so sure of that?"

She jumped at his voice. For a moment the fright caused by the fire had made her forget about him.

"What is it, beautiful? Do I scare you?"

He laughed his horrible laughter. Renate felt like shrinking into a corner, hiding there, blocking out his voice. Yes, he did scare her. He made all her childhood fears return. She couldn't hide, though. She had to face him.

She stood up straight, trying to give her face an expression of decisiveness.

'Can he even see me?'

Then she said out loud, and with the strongest voice she could manage:

"No, you don't. Not any more. You don't exist. You are only a figment of my imagination. I know that ... And why do you keep calling me beautiful?"

He laughed again, this time it seemed almost as if his laughter was not quite as evil as usually.

"But you are. Haven't you noticed? You have changed since I last saw you."

She almost blushed. She knew it was true, she had changed. Since she had had enough sleep, her skin had become a little less pale, her face a little less sad. Her expression had retained that big-eyed melancholy that had disconcerted everyone around her when she was a little kid, but now that she had grown up, her large and sad big eyes gave her a certain exotic appeal. At the same time, she had eaten a lot better since she moved away from home and into the apartment with Katja, and as a result had gained some shapeliness. She was still small, that was the way she was, but looked more feminine now than she had ever before. Also, she had started experimenting with her hairstyle, her clothes, and on special occasions even put on a tiny bit of make-up. She wanted to fit in with her new friends, that was part of the reason, but she had to admit that there had been a few moments that she had stood in front of the mirror, when no one was looking, and actually liked what she saw.

"Who would have thought, that ugly little Renate could become such a beautiful young woman?" he continued, "Remember what they used to sing? Renate, Renate -- looking into the water. Sees her face, says 'what disgrace, how ugly is this water'. "

She winced at the little melody, at the sound of the words. Back in school, in a different world she had hoped to forget -- whatshisname, Michael, yes, Michael, her first secret crush back in sixth grade ... One day during lunch break, when she had gone to the playground, he was sitting there, a little removed from the others. He had smiled, when he had caught sight of her, and her heart started beating faster. This couldn't be, he was noticing her, he really was, and he was smiling. She had blushed, but had forced herself to smile back, stumbling towards him. When she was almost there, he had opened his mouth and ... he had started singing this very song.

"Sh-h there is no reason to cry."

The voice sounded surprisingly friendly, almost all of its shrillness was gone.

"I am not crying," she said out loud, and only then noticed the tear that was rolling down her cheek, carrying with it the truth that she still cared, that the past wasn't over.

"Sh-sh, it's all good."

There was something to his voice now that calmed her down. Something soothing and reassuring. Renate knew his voice since her earliest childhood. She had always feared it, yet it had always been there.

"It's all good, it's all good. You are tired, you should sleep."

He spoke in a little singsong that indeed made her feel sleepy, made her forget who he was, and that she should stay awake.

"You are so beautiful. It's a shame that no one seems to see it."

More tears followed that one that had reached the corner of her mouth now, and settled there, a little salty taste seeping to her tongue from between her lips. He was right, he was so right. She didn't want to be alone any longer, she didn't want to be annoying little Renate who tacked along with whoever allowed her presence.

'It's Christmas, I am supposed to be with people who care for me, I'm supposed to be happy, like everyone else.'

Somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a different voice, not his -- her own, maybe? It reminded her of Katja's invitation, of her mother's disappointment.

"Don't think about them. You don't need them. I am there for you, I always was."

'Then why ...'

"Don't think about it. I am here now. It's all good, it's all good."

His voice felt so warm, so comforting now, as if it wasn't the same voice. She felt sleepy, she wished she could fall asleep in someone's arms.

'I don't think I have ever done that. Did my mother hold me when I was very little? I don't remember ... I don't ...'

Renate realized that she could hardly stand on her feet any more. With her last strength, she dragged herself into her bedroom, her sheets.

The voice was still there, comfortably familiar, and soft.

"Don't you want to take your clothes off, beautiful? It must be uncomfortable with those jeans."

It felt almost as if it weren't her own hands that opened the zipper of her jeans and pulled them off. She knew he was here, who else could it be? She could tell her hands were moving, but at the same time it was almost as if they were doing so without her willing them, it felt as if it wasn't herself. She took her shirt off. Again, it felt as if someone else was helping her, then opening her bra. In the end she was wearing nothing but her underwear, as she leaned back into her bed.

All the time, the voice had kept talking to her, not once laughing its horrible laughter, just calming her down and making her sleepier with its little sing-song.

"It's all good, beautiful. I am here, beautiful. Don't cry, beautiful."

She snuggled into the soft warmth of her blanket, it felt almost as if there was someone lying right by her. She thought she could feel an arm around her, a hand carefully cupping her breast -- or was that her own?

'Are you there?'

"I am right here, beautiful. Sleep now, beautiful."

Was that his breath, she could feel at her neck? Or was she only imagining that? Sleep ... why was she so tired?

'I have slept so much lately ... I just woke up half an hour ago ...'

"Don't worry about it, you need the sleep, beautiful. Sleep now. All is well ... "

***

'Cold.'

She could feel her teeth chattering, her whole body seemed to shake.

'White.'

Her eyes took a bit to get used to the brightness around her. At first, the ground looked like big clouds.

'Am I dead? No, this can't be heaven. It wouldn't be that cold there, would it?'

Eventually, she could make out the shapes hills, all brightly white, under a cloudless blue sky with a sun that brought no warmth.

'It's snow!'

Finally she knew. That made sense -- snow was white, and it was cold. But that didn't explain how she had gotten here, and why in the world she was standing in a landscape of snow wearing nothing but her panties. Her shivering got worse, and she wondered how long it would take to freeze to death -- there was really only one thing she could do. Start walking, and hope she would find people who could help her soon. The fact that she would be standing in front of them almost naked was a problem she would think about then.

The snow felt like needles under her bare feet, but after just a few steps the cold had made them go numb, and she hardly felt anything any more. Actually, she stopped feeling all that cold. Instead, she felt just tired. Every step was a fight against her own mind, that suggested to just lie down in the snow and sleep.

Then, just when she wanted to give up, she saw smoke rise up against the blue sky, right in front of her. Looking closer, she realized, that one of the hills there wasn't actually a hill, but the roof of a little house. And next to the little house, there was a tall tree, the first tree she had seen since her arrival here.

The very same moment, however, she noticed something else: The sound of crunching snow behind her. Alarmed, she turned around.

Behind her, at roughly the same distance as the house was in front of her, there stood something in the snow. It was as white as it's surroundings, and as it stood in the direction the sun was coming from, her eyes hurt as she tried to see what it was. It looked a bit like a wolf, but it was at least three times the size of a normal wolf, and it was completely white.

The thing snarled, and a growl filled the winter air, a growl that almost made her heart stop. Then the thing jumped towards her.

'The house! I need to get to the house!'

She turned, and started running as well. She could hear the jumps of the animal behind her, coming closer -- but so did the house in front of her, its cute little wooden door promising a safe haven for her, a place to hide, a place of warmth.

As she ran by the tree, she noticed to her surprise that underneath the snow weighing down its branches, it was decorated with hundreds of candy canes, little wooden nutcrackers and boys on rocking horses.

Then, just when the thing behind her seemed to get ready for one final jump, she had reached the door. As she pulled it open, she could see its shadow in the air above her. Her heart racing, she rushed through the door, and pulled it closed behind her.

Suddenly, the sound of the wind, of the animal's growls, as well as the cold were gone. Instead, the air was filled with the smell and cracking of a warm fire, and with soft music. To her surprise, she recognized the melody of "Have yourself a merry little Christmas".

She stood inside a small room, decorated with bear rugs on the floor and paintings of nineteenth century children gathered around Christmas trees on the walls. There were also two windows: One in front of her on the other side of the room, the other behind her right next to the door. Strangely, the window in front of her was dark, as if it was night outside, while the sun was shining in through the one behind her.

'I must be at the North Pole. No, that doesn't make sense. Does it? I must be.'

She decided not to think about it any longer, but looked further around the room. To one corner, sure enough, there stood a large open fireplace, and in front of it there was an armchair with someone sitting in it.

Whoever it was didn't seem to have noticed her presence yet, and for a few moments she stood there indecisively.

Finally, she took up all her courage to say, with a strangely thin voice: "Excuse me?"

There was no reaction, so she repeated the words once more, a bit louder. Now the armchair moved a bit, turned around, so she could see a newspaper, underneath which there were short legs and a large tummy dressed in what looked like a red bathrobe, and a long white beard that was lying snugly on the stomach. And then, above the newspaper, there appeared two light blue eyes, looking at her suspiciously.

"You are late. Or early, depending how you look at it. Not at the right time, anyway. Would you please return in eleven months and three and a half weeks? I am on my break now."

"But ... but ..."

This was confusing.

"Go. You can take a candy cane from the tree outside, if you want."

"But you have to help me," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

"Next year. I am on my break, can't you hear?"

With that, the man returned to his newspaper, and at the same time the door behind her opened, and she felt sharp teeth grab her leg, pulling at her, so she fell, and then was dragged outside into the snow. The door fell closed again in front of her and then was gone.

As the teeth let go of her, she sat up. Her first glance fell down onto red patches of blood on the snow, right next to her leg. Then she looked up.

The thing stood right in front of her, snarling. It looked less like a wolf now, but still not like a human.

"See? No one wants you."

'I know this voice. Where do I know it from?'

"You really shouldn't run away from me, your only friend."

She felt the sting of the snow, the wind, but there was a warmth emanating from the creature in front of her.

'How nice and warm it must be to be closer to it. How nice it must be, to have its body touch mine.'

Yet, at the same time, there were teeth and claws, and her blood still red on the snow. She wanted to be closer to the creature, yet she also wanted to be further away. Her mind told her to run, and to get as far away from him as she could, but her body wanted to move closer and join with him. He moved towards her in slow deliberate motion. "Run!" her mind screamed.

She didn't run, though. And at the next moment he took hold of her, his hands held her arms, making it impossible for her to get away. Then, the weight of his body was on hers, the cold of the snow still against her back, the creature's warmth against her stomach, her legs, her chest. In between her legs, which he now moved apart with the help of his own, it wasn't just warmth, it was heat, and she suddenly was unable to tell whether that heat was coming from the creature or whether it was her own.

She felt its breath, she felt its weight, and then ...

***

Renate awoke, panting heavily. The very first thing she was aware of, was the lack of an echo from her own scream. She had awoken silently this time.

She was lying in her bed, dressed in nothing but her panties, the covers in a heap and only partially protecting her from the cold wind that came in through the open window. Renate knew the window had been closed when she went to bed. A few snowflakes danced into the room, and settled on her face, melting there.

Her underwear felt strangely uncomfortable and sticky against her body, and when she moved her hand to it, she found it drenched in liquid.

She sat up, wrapping her arms against her legs to protect against the cold -- yet she felt she had not enough energy to hide under her blankets or close the window -- and looked outside. Her bed was a big wooden one, almost a metre high, and it stood right underneath the window.

It was late afternoon, outside it was almost dark. The first of her neighbours seemed to have started getting rid of their Christmas trees -- and it wasn't even the new year yet. She could make out a tree, stripped of its decorations, lying on the side of the street, thrown out from one of the surrounding houses. Snowflakes were tumbling down from the dark sky, a few more found their way into her room from the open window. One settled on her arm, it's cold wetness reminding her of the snow in her dream. While she watched it melt, fragments of the dream came back to her.

'How bizarre.'

"Well, I had to give you some type of Christmas, didn't I?

His voice made her start. It was cold and shrill as usual, the warmth it had had before she went to sleep a long lost memory. His cackling laughter filled the room.

Christmas ... Outside, on the street, a car stopped. As the door opened to let a young woman and a little child out, music floated up to her. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas." Suddenly, she jumped out of her bed, still dressed only in her panties, and ran through the dark hallway to the living room. There, with shaking hands, she grabbed a paper package lying on the floor, and pulled out a record.

The look of its black shimmering, and the words "Christmas Oratorio" that were written in large letters on the label, calmed her beating heart down. Carefully she weighed it in her hands, and then she leaned forward towards the player.

Then, suddenly, she froze for a second. A shattering sound filled the room. Before her eyes, there were her empty hands, and, a bit further, the floor, all over which were strewn tiny pieces of black broken vinyl. Renate stared at them. Then, before her brain could react well enough to stop herself, the anger about what had just happened reached her foot, which gave the record player an angry kick and sent it sliding over the floor into the wall, where it stopped with a horrible cracking sound.

The laughter, that had followed her from the bedroom, and had been there all that time, stopped now.

"Oh, what did you do that for? One could almost think you couldn't hold the record any more. Such a shame. And the record player wasn't even yours."

Then he started his laughing again, louder and louder, without showing any intention to ever stop.

***

'Ouch!'

She pulled up one foot, then the other, doing almost a little dance, as she couldn't keep both feet in the air, yet whichever touched the ground hurt, as if she was standing on burning coals. Finally, the bottom of her feet got used to the burning sand she was standing on, and she could stand still, and take in the landscape around her.

The land around her was flat, only a distant mountain range stood up against the sky on the horizon. She couldn't make out any trees, but a bit to her left, there was something like a forest of huge cactus. In between, there were random bushes of very dry grass, else, there was just dry ground of a slightly red colour.

As far as she looked, there wasn't a human being, or any other sign of life. No, that was wrong, there was life: She saw a shadow moving across the ground, closing in on her. The shadow, she could tell, belonged to something up in the sky. She put her head into her neck and squinted against the bright sun. Up above her, there was a vulture, and shortly behind it a second one. Both slowly descended and settled on one of the big cactuses, looking over to her, watching her.

'Desert. What am I doing in a desert? I am thirsty ... Go away, vultures, go away!'

For a few moments she stood there, staring back at the sinister birds. She had to find people. Again, she looked around. And really, her eye caught a movement, very far from her: A dark point on the horizon that grew in size and shape, until it became a distinct figure, a rider on his horse. Relief flooded through her, until, suddenly, she realized that she was standing naked in the middle of the desert, with a stranger approaching.

And really, there was something about the rider. Something, that made her feel cold despite the heat of the sun and the sand. The closer he got, the more threatening he appeared to her; when the sound of the horse's hooves echoed in her head, he was close enough to paralyse her with his ice cold eyes -- the only thing visible in the shadow his cowboy hat cast over his face.

'This is not good ... Run!'

She turned, and started running, ignoring the stinging heat of the sand under her feet. She could hear the rhythm of the horse's hooves accelerating: It was in a trot now, then in a canter.

'No chance, no chance. Who can outrun a horse?'

Still, she kept running. Her heart started beating faster, hammering against her chest, causing her a slight feeling of sickness.

'Maybe if I could get between the cacti ... '

At that very moment she felt an iron grip around her waist: The stranger had leaned down from the horse that was still cantering calmly, without great effort, and had lifted her up onto the saddle. She wanted to struggle, to get away, but now the horse took up speed. She could see the ground blurring underneath its hooves, all instincts told her to just hold on, not to move.