A Collection Of Short Stories

The Reddish-Brown Monsters

Author's Note

I wrote this while I was on a trip with my family on the west coast of the US. We went to see all the canyons. I was inspired my the massive montains, the little patches of life on these monsters.

Hope you enjoy, 

Ali

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The silver car, a lightning strike on a damp summer night, passes. It goes thru thousands of mountains and rocks, red, old, a rich desert. The mountains are huge, monsters standing over the car's rooftop. Reddish brown like dried blood, they stand, motionless, awaiting for an unknown event. The dried blood colored monsters are invaded by identical green little bushes. They are so many of them , and they are disposed as a thousand freckles on one's face. The contrast between them is, even for the color, invisible. The dried blood seems to blend in and flood the freckles, like a murdered man. Suddenly, a splash of a brighter shade of green appears: a golf course. Men dressed in red outfits play with their gray clubs. At this point, the 18 hole course seems like an ocean of grass. The ocean, though, does not move, and stays, like the mountains, disturbed only by the footsteps of the fancy shoes of golf players. The contrast between the monsters and the green ocean is popping with brightness and attention. A rough path verses a smooth cemented road.

The car moves on.

Houses now scatter the landscape. Little squares of beige and white. A child is alone, playing with one of the monster's freckle. The mother watches, attentive and worried that the monster will eat her child. Another man comes out of a beige square. He is heavy and comes slowly to the bottom of the monster. He kneels down, as if to pray his god. He then takes out a hammer, some nails, a rope, and starts to climb the monster. He scrapes, burns, and attacks the monster with his nails and hammer. He hears the pain and screaming of the mountains. He climbs all the way to the top of the mountain. He stands up on the monster's head, and looks at the village. But then, a rock slips beneath his foot. The monster bend his head, and makes the man fall. The man paid back the monster.

The car moves on.

The mountains are now a sad, lonely gray. They feel bad of having killed the poor man, and take a step in regret. Now, instead of being strong, tall, and powerful, they lie, smooth, long, and sad. The bushes are now trees, and the monsters are now covered in sunburns of green. As if in synchronization, gray clouds fill the sky. A harmony of gray and dark greens is born. The landscape looks like a gray desert with several small hills. As it starts to rain, the tears roll down the monster's cheeks, emphasizing there sadness and regret. After long, the monsters seem to emerge out of their sadness again, and slowly start to grow higher, redder, stronger. The sunburns heal, and become freckles again. Everything rises up.

The car moves on.