After Dark

"Why do you want to kill me?"

It shocked him to hear himself speak for the first time since his humanity began to fade.

His voice came out as an otherworldly whisper in the quiet derelict mansion. It sounded not quite human, but it was fitting. He hadn't spoken in so long, and he was barely human anymore.

Sometimes he'd forget what it was like to be a man -- the fear, the relentless stream of thoughts at every second of the day, the yearning for more happiness, more money, more pleasure. The voices of the people he loved had faded in the fog of time. Only the sounds and smells of the night filled his senses.

Alicia glanced at him through the viewfinder of her gun. She had worked so hard for that kill that the creature speaking to her was taking out some of the enjoyment. If only people knew how much waiting there was in monster hunting, they'd stop thinking of it as a glamorous profession. If only they could see her sitting half-hidden behind a decaying door, with spiderwebs caught in her hair and hands dark with dust, they would see her more as a glorified pest control and less like a saviour.

Normally, the monsters she caught were too far gone to talk -- their grunts at times contained a word or two, but it was so close to the cries of a scared animal that it was easy to forget they had been humans once.

"For all the lives you've taken," she whispered. For all the corpses she had seen lying in their beds where they slept, with bite marks on their necks. For the few survivors who could not stand the darkness anymore. For the mother and brother who had taught her the trade of protecting her city.

"I never killed anyone," the creature replied, defeated. His hands were a far cry from the hands that had once held his children, but he knew there was no blood in them. "But do it. I am tired. I want to see my family again."

"Family?"

"I had a family once. A wife. Twin sons. A daughter. We lived here. We were happy. I cannot remember the sound of their voices. I want to see them again."

She had noticed the dusty, faded pictures on the mantlepiece. They showed a tall man with a mop of curly red hair and a shy smile. The baby in his arms had the same sad green eyes. She had read the story -- the family, dead on their beds, and the husband missing. Such a promising young man, the community lamented.

"You killed them." Wasn't that what creatures did?

"I did not. When I woke up, they were dead. A man dashed down the stairs. I went outside. I cried for help. They chased me. They called me a 'monster'. I fled to the woods. I still come here at night to remember."

The sorrow in his voice tugged at her heart. There was a man there, still, but for how much longer?

"I know about you, hunters." He proceeded. "And I understand. You are afraid. I would be, too. Kill me. Claim your bounty."

The weapon weighed on her, and a strange feeling grew in her chest. It was no longer fear. It wasn't anger at the corpses she had seen bloodied and in pieces after a monster's attack. It was not resentment at the path of death and endless nights her family chose to protect their town from the attacks. It tasted like doubt.

"What if there was a cure...?"

"What for? Everyone I loved is dead. Do it."

A quiet resolve silenced her protests and steadied her hand. She could take him out in one shot, clean and fast. For the first time in years, her rage melted away to reveal corners of her mind she had not seen before--lightness, compassion, the dull ache of regret.

He stood still with an expression that could've been seen as a smile on a human face. Everything around her--the lonely night creatures, the whispering wind, the cold moonlight trickling through broken windows--came alive as the creature prepared to give up his.

It only took one shot. She couldn't tell if the monster's eyes filled with tears as he fell to the ground, but she did hear him sigh with the relief of a man who leaves his burdens at the door every night to receive his love's embrace.

***

She waited for the last train in a cold, empty station. The journey was long and her bag was almost empty, but the resolve in her heart made this fresh start more than just another adventure. She'd have roots, friends, early mornings, and days without bloodshed. In her pocketbook, the shy red-haired man with his children smiled at her from behind the fog of time, but it was not a grave. She'd remember them. She'd keep them from death.

None of the text and images in this newsletter were create with the use of AI.