Warning: This story contains violence and gore. If you do not wish to read about this, do not read further. Thank you!

My name is Madison Cartwright. That’s what the government says, anyway. It’s the name on my driving licence, my national ID card, and even my birth certificate. It’s the name I provide to people who ask for it from me. Still, it is not my real name. I made it up only to better masquerade as a human. However, it is the closest I will ever have to an actual name, as if you were to ask me for my “real name,” all I could do is shrug and tell you “Madison”.

I live in Fifelthorpe, a small town just a few miles west of York. A lot of other monsters in Fifelthorpe came here because it’s a “monster paradise.” However, I am not one of these pilgrims. I merely live here by the circumstance that I was born here. I don’t know much about my father, but I know my mother was from further up North, probably somewhere in Scotland. Besides that, my parents are a mystery to me.

I feel like this is true of most monsters because, as babies, we are often dumped wherever we are born before our parents disappear from our lives entirely. Some describe me as lucky; my mother stuck around for a good few months before she disappeared. I have seen a few oddly sympathetic humans describe this as “sad,” but I don’t understand this sentiment. This is a natural occurrence. It’s not sad; it’s life.

For a long time, I took on the lifestyle of the social parasite. I lived among humans, studying their way of life and participating in it to the best of my ability. I was able to obtain a birth certificate and a national ID card from small, under-the-table businesses in Fifelthorpe. That is when, at the age of 16, I chose the name Madison. For 6 years since then, I have worked at the Teddy’s Burgers down the street from the general store.

I live in a flat that’s a five minute drive away from Teddy’s. Recently, however, I’ve found myself living with a girl whom I have recently met, and who has taken a liking to me. Sara Jacobs is a human woman who works in York as a teacher’s assistant. She used to live in York, but due to familial circumstances she recently moved out to Fifelthorpe. I met her a week ago, where I discovered her being attacked by another monster, whom I scared off so that I could have her to myself. In this encounter I broke my arm, and I have had to pretend to still be impaired despite the fact that I am now completely fine.

In the previous week I have been sleeping in her house, which she says used to belong to her late mother. It’s much further from Teddy’s than my flat, somewhere on the eastern outskirts of Fifelthorpe, but it’s much more comfortable, which is why I chose to stay. After all, the whole reason I live in a flat in the first place is because sleeping on a floor is much more comfortable than sleeping on a bed of leaves in the woods. The next natural step up from there is a bed in a house.

Today I am laying in said bed. It has been an hour and a half since I woke up at 9 am. I am simply waiting for something to do, since I can’t work due to my apparent injury. For the first hour, I simply sat and stared at the ceiling, still somewhat dazed from having just woken up, but for the past thirty minutes I’ve been scrolling deadpan through my social media.

This has been my everyday life up until recently, now that I think about it. I work from 6 pm to 2 am, come home and go to sleep at 3 am. I then wake up at 11 am and do fuck all until 6 pm rolls back around and I start it all over again. Sometimes I break it up with a hunt, but most of the time I just waste my time. That’s just the life of a monster, though. There’s not really much we can do besides eat, maybe get a job to live more comfortably. I don’t mind this life. It just gets boring sometimes.

My mind begins wandering, and I remember a story my mother told me about Fifelthorpe. This place used to be overrun with monsters and monster hunters alike, warring for control over the town. Monsters fed whenever, and wherever they pleased, and monster hunters were around every corner, ready to kill any monster unlucky or stupid enough to have chosen to feed near them.

Eventually, in recent history in fact, one monster hunter rose up above all the rest, called the Knight of Fifelthorpe by the human world. He sought to rid Fifelthorpe of all monsters, much like the rest of his peers. Unlike his peers, he was incredibly good at it. His methodical, relentless, and cruel approach to monster hunting led to the monsters of Fifelthorpe, and the monsters of all of England for that matter, to become better at hiding their hunts, and more adept at blending in with humanity.

Specifically in Fifelthorpe, there is a massive underground community to help monsters more carefully and convincingly hide in plain sight. That is why even monsters praise this monster hunter, because without his lone ruthlessness they would have soon faced an army of men like him, and would not have stood a chance.

Thinking about this story made me inexplicably hungry. I drop my phone onto the bed and slide off of it and onto the floor. Sara works day shift, and said goodbye when I woke up, so I should be safe to leave and find a meal. I slip my arm out of the fake cast I am wearing and strip naked so that my clothes aren’t destroyed by my enlarged body. I make my way downstairs and through the kitchen, then I begin to shed my disguise as I walk out of the back door.

My fingers grow long and my keratin nails become more metallic, elongated, and blade-like. I plant my nails on the ground, as I use them to drag myself along when I move. My arms elongate and increase significantly in muscle mass. My legs begin to shrink into my body as my torso thickens and elongates into a long, serpentine tail. My eyes sink into my skull and are covered by skin, and my head widens and flattens into a cephalofoil-like shape, and short, brown hair begins to sprout all along my back to accompany the hair on top of my head. My lower jaw sinks backwards and becomes triangular, and my teeth sharpen and point backwards as to better rend flesh from bone. Through all this, I don’t shed my pale, fleshy skin.

I am proud of my true appearance. I look strong. I look terrifying. I look like…

Myself.

I have one thing to thank that knight for. If it weren't for him, this feeling of euphoria would be lost on me. If I could thank him, I would, but he unfortunately passed away only a few years after I was born. It's not actually that big of a deal to me. He would probably kill me if we ever met.

After a woodland stroll, I reach my hiding spot. I usually stake out here for hours on end when I’m not working. There is a rather thick area of woodland near downtown Fifelthorpe that is able to conceal my body fairly well, while still allowing me to be close to Fifelthorpe’s on-foot commuters. The best part is that no one else comes here. I am entirely left to myself to choose the perfect meal for me out of the hundreds of Fifelthorpe's pedestrians.

When searching for a meal, I try to look for someone who won’t be missed. It’s not a moral decision, it’s just best for me. After all, if someone is missing people will begin to look for them, and if they do they might start pointing fingers, and if one of those fingers lands on me I might have to relocate, which will be a pain. So, for my own sake, I choose those who will get me in the least amount of trouble possible. Sadly, that means I have to wait, often endlessly, for a meal.

In my waiting, I see some familiar faces. Ronnie, a coworker of mine at Teddy’s, skittishly walks past. He smells like old women because he lives with his grandparents, and his grandmother adores wearing horrendously thick perfume. His smell actually covers all of Teddy’s, so it’s really hard for me to smell anything in there. No one ever really complains about it, though. At least it smells better than burnt chips.

The perfume has prolongued effects on my ability to smell. I am usually still able to smell over it, but it does significantly damper my nose for quite some time after I get a whiff. That’s the only thing I can find to complain about the perfume. It actually smells quite nice, like roses and peaches. It suits Ronnie. Still, this does make the hunt a little harder, as I need to rely more on my other senses, which are far inferior to my nose.

Huey, the owner of the Teddy’s I work at, also passes by. Strangely, he slows his gate as he passes by my bush, and I watch his nose twitch. After he passes by me, he stops and stands to stroke his face and take in the scenery. I would never harm Huey. The thought doesn’t even cross my mind. He is too useful to me to eat him. Besides, he is a large, muscular human male, which would be far too much of a fight for it to be worth it. He slowly begins walking again, and leaves me alone once more. Humans are truly strange creatures.

After an hour of camping, I see a perfect specimen. He is overweight, unkempt, and walks with an utter lack of confidence. To boot, he looks sleep deprived and under a lot of stress. I look around myself to insure that I am not being tracked, then begin follow him through the bushes.

As I watch him, I am more convinced that no one will be looking for him. I begin to prime myself to snatch him into the bushes, but right before I thrust my hands forwards I hear a song bellow from his pants. A look of surprise comes over both of our faces. Much to my disappointment, he answers the phone and begins a conversation with who I assume is his significant other, who is worried about where he is.

All three of us were lucky today, I suppose. Still, I was let down.

I continue looking around for some time to come, but I find no luck. This is how most days end, sadly. With my harsh restrictions it is quite hard to find good food, and I usually go home hungry. It is getting close to 5, which means Sara will be leaving work soon, which means I need to head home so as to not arouse suspicion from her about what I might be doing while she is not home. However, as I began to shuffle back, I heard something move around me.

I immediately whipped around to where I heard the sound, but saw nothing. Was there another monster? I couldn’t smell; the perfume was still clogging my nostrils. Bollocks, I think, a fight in broad daylight would end terribly no matter how well I perform. I began slinking back through the brush, hoping to escape whatever found itself near me. Tragically, I was unable.

I heard a thunk next to me, and immediately tried to turn away from it, but the creature’s bounding leaps cut me off. I looked up and saw a humongous, gorilla-like form, with fleshy pillars for arms and massive black domes on either side of its head, which I presumed to be eyes. Its mouth gaped open, almost as if its upper and lower jaw weren’t connected by bone, and it hung down to the monster’s knees. It growled and yelled something nearly impossible to discern, though considering the familiar face, I assume he was taunting me.

He was the same monster from whom I snatched Sara. I know I can not take him. He is far stronger than me, and is likely more well fed. I came up with an escape plan immediately, but I don’t like it. It’s embarrassing and cheap, and even a little risky. However, anything that gets me out of this alive is good enough for me.

I begin to shrink back into a humanoid disguise, and begin bounding back towards the city. The brute follows me mindlessly, bashing trees out of his way and grabbing at my tail. He nearly succeeds—I feel his arms clamp at the very tip of my tail—but his hands are small and feeble, and I slip away. Thankfully, I am more agile than him, and am able to manoeuvre through the trees . Finally, before I break into the street I take a deep breath and dig my claws into my own face, slicing it wide open so that no one will recognize me.

“MONSTEEEEER!!!” I cry, breaking out into the street in humanoid form. “THERE’S A BLOODY MONSTER CHASIN’ ME!!!”

I slow my pace, and begin to run feebly out into the broad daylight, where I am surprised to find that the beast is still chasing me. Passerbies scream and scatter. I turn around swiftly, prepared to engage, only to remember where I am. I submit. He tackles me to the ground and mounts me. He holds me to the ground with his left-side arm stump. He raises his right to flatten my head against the pavement.

I know what is coming. I stare directly at his fleshy, overgrown arm, and observe what is left of his fingers curl up around the boulder-like nub. I watch a disturbed smile creep onto his face, as he arrogantly savours the moments before killing me. Unfortunately for him, all he was savouring were the moments before his own demise. I heard it first, a gunshot, then I saw it, an open wound in his right shoulder. Finally, I smelt it.

This was the worst time for the scent-blocking perfume to wear off. The smell was dreadful. The silver bullet shot by the shopkeeper just across the road had deposited a deadly disease into the wound it formed, and the disease quickly worked at rotting away the monster’s flesh. Monsters already smell distinct enough on their own, but the smell of their rotting flesh is utterly overwhelming and putrid. If I wasn’t starving, I would surely vomit.

Immediately, his right arm fell to his side, as the muscles holding it up were eaten up by the infection. In fear of being shot another time, the brute dismounted me and ran back into the woods, wailing in agony. No matter where he went, he was dead. The shopkeeper, surely eager to find himself such a large kill, fired again, but the shot missed. He cursed and placed his gun on the ground before running over to me.

I shot up from the ground and began screaming and flailing my arms to appear hysterical. I covered my chest with an arm and began to sprint back into the woods. My face had already begun to close the wounds from a moment ago, and if that monster hunter saw the rate at which my face healed I would have caught his third bullet. What a horribly failed hunt. I should have stayed home.

…

My face was almost fully healed by the time I returned to the house, leaving but a little scab on my forehead where my claws sunk deepest. That was easy to explain away, so I didn’t worry about it. I put my clothes back on, placed a bandage on my forehead, and returned my arm into its cast. Finally, I grabbed my phone out of the guest bedroom and sat myself on the couch.

I heard the tumblers in the front door click and heard it creak open.

“Maddie?” Sara called, “I’m home!”