The creature I seek

it was just a dream, they said, but I could have sworn it was real. I saw it with my very own eyes. But I was just a young boy back then, and no one believed me.

In my village, the children would always say, "There's a monster in the woods!" It was a common belief among us, though everyone had a different story about what it could be.

Rosslyn, excitedly nodding, claimed, "It was a bear, I'm sure of it! I saw it this morning on my way to school." But Thomas had a different tale. "No! It was a monster, with big eyes, thick fur that was sharp to the touch, and sharp teeth. I looked it right in the eyes! I swear!"

We were divided, some believing it was just an animal, while others were convinced it was a monster. No parent or adult believed us, of course. They dismissed our stories as the overactive imaginations of children, even if they felt real to us. Now and then, we would venture into the woods, trying to hunt down or find this monster we claimed to see along the tree line. It became a game—a test to see whether it was real or just a figment of our imaginations. But not everyone participated; some were too scared, standing at the edge of the woods and watching from afar. I thought they were cowards. I was too young back then to understand empathy, dear reader.

We set up traps and dug holes, determined to catch this creature we were convinced existed. I, in particular, became obsessed with the idea, making my traps increasingly dangerous. We would catch small animals now and then, but nothing that resembled a monster. At least our parents were happy we were bringing some food home from our ridiculous game. Days turned into weeks, and everyone started to give up.

They grew tired of searching, starting to believe we were just seeing things, or that whatever it was had left when we began our hunt. Fewer and fewer kids showed up each day. Winter came, and they preferred playing in the snow and drinking warm milk to continuing the hunt. I looked down at the stick I had carved into a sharp blade. My hands were turning white from the cold, and I could barely feel my nose or ears as I stared into the woods, challenging them.

"I have to go home, Luca. We should go. It's late," my childhood friend said, looking as cold and tired as I felt. I had put that kid through too much; he was too kind for his own good.

"No! We have to find it! We're so close, I can feel it!" I blurted out, desperate for him not to give up like everyone else.

"We've been looking for hours. I'm cold, and I have a splinter in my finger. I'm going home," he said softly, dark circles under his eyes, his voice defeated as he began walking out of the woods.

I sighed, glancing at my small house in the distance. I didn't want to go home, even if it was late. There was nothing waiting for me there. By then, my father would have drunk himself to sleep in the kitchen after returning from the mines, and my mother would tiptoe around the house, bringing me food to avoid waking him.

My eyes darted between my house and the one nearby, where I could see through the window one of my classmates, Lily, chasing her baby brother while her mother smiled, whipping up dinner and yelling at them to come inside. Their father looked up from his newspaper, smiling as they both ran in and sat down at the dinner table. A sense of dread filled me then, a sharp pain and envy for never having experienced that kind of warmth. But that feeling soon turned into anger. I was going to find that monster and prove them all wrong—for giving up on this, and on me.

I tightened my grip on the stick and ventured deeper into the woods, my nose running from the cold, my toes numb. The deeper I went, the less light filtered through the trees. All I could hear was the crunch of snow beneath my boots and the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. It was so silent, almost too silent. A bird chirped in the trees, startling me so badly that I froze.

"Not funny..." I muttered under my breath, clutching my chest with my eyes closed.

But then, I heard a twig snap not far ahead, making my eyes snap open. A dark shadow moved between the trees, its form indistinct. I gasped and stepped back, fear rising in my chest. But I couldn't turn back now. I exhaled and ran after it, my short legs pumping with determination. I threw my makeshift spear at it, but it missed, landing just beside the creature. It was too fast, but when I reached the spot, I saw a trail of blood. It was evidence—I had found it.

I ran out of the woods, pounding on every door, hysterically shouting, "I found it! I found the monster!"

Everyone was confused and concerned. One parent even asked, "Luca, are you all right? Have you been in the woods at this time of night, my boy?" But I wasn't willing to chit-chat. I ran off again as some kids hurried to put on their boots and coats to follow me, adults trailing behind in worry. I led them through the woods, excitedly explaining what had happened. But when we arrived, the blood trail was gone. The hole in the snow from my spear was still there, but there was no blood in sight.

Everyone looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. The women looked at me with pity, while my friends made fun of me, accusing me of making it all up. No matter what I said, they thought I'd imagined it, or that it had been a dream.

One of their fathers, annoyed by the commotion I had caused, took me home. It was not my proudest moment, to say the least. My father beat me for waking him up and causing trouble, bringing embarrassment to our family. I gave up then on the monster in the woods.

It's been 19 years since that night.

The village eventually became a ghost town as everyone moved to the city, unable to make a living there anymore. I parked my car near the edge of the village I once called home, now a lifeless shell of what it had been. I walked through the deserted streets, memories of my childhood flooding back.

I missed those times when life seemed so simple, viewed through the eyes of an angry boy with a heart full of determination. I bent down, picking up a torn and weathered plush toy that had belonged to one of my childhood friends. Just then, I heard a noise from one of the houses—a loud bang, like a pot or pan falling to the floor. Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked into the house, only to see a dark shadow dart out the window. I stepped back, a mix of familiarity and pure fear washing over me.

It couldn't be...

The boy within me screamed to give chase. I wanted answers, and my will to know was stronger than my fear. I ran out of the house and after the figure, telling myself it must be some animal. It moved through the woods with incredible speed, and it was hard to keep up. I could barely make out what it was, but it suddenly stopped, caught in something on the ground. It let out a loud yelp, but it wasn't the sound of an animal or a monster. The closer I got, the more I could see what it was. My heart pounded like a drum in my chest. It was covered in thick fur, but one leg was caught in a bear trap. A flash of red fabric peeked out from the fur—a dress.

"A woman..." I whispered, my eyes widening in disbelief. I must be dreaming.

She looked up at me with big brown eyes, dirty and wild. She was beautiful in a strange way, but I could see the fear in her eyes. I knelt down, raising my hands to show I meant no harm, that I only wanted to help her get out of the trap. She tried to pull herself free, terrified of me as I inched closer, like a cornered animal.

"Calm down, I won't hurt you," I said softly, seeing her panic. But she wouldn't stop struggling, nor did she speak. I didn't understand—was this the creature I had hunted all those years ago?

I stepped back and walked away to get something from my car, hoping to gain her trust with some food. When I returned, she had only made things worse for herself. Blood stained her fingertips from her desperate attempts to pry the trap open. She looked so small, and a lump formed in my throat. I gently tossed the sandwich I had brought her, gesturing to show it was food. Her eyes darted between the sandwich and me, trying to understand.

With a trembling, bloody hand, she reached for the sandwich, tearing off the plastic wrap like a starving animal. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"You really are like a wild animal, aren't you?" I said, unable to hide my smile. She looked at me warily, as if she were on high alert. I sat down by a nearby tree, leaning against it calmly, watching her while I tried to figure out what to do next. She seemed to be in her thirties—had she been a child too when we tried hunting her? Why was she here? What had happened to her? Questions swirled in my mind.

She ate like she had never learned how to eat properly, squeezing the sandwich so tightly that the cucumber slices flew out and the sauce dripped down her tattered red dress. Where had she even gotten the fur from? Had she skinned a bear? And the dress—what was that

So many questions swirled in my mind, but there were no answers. When she finished eating, I gestured towards the bear trap, indicating that I wanted to help. This time, she remained still, allowing me to approach. The trap was difficult to open, but I managed to create enough space for her to pull her leg free. As soon as I released the trap, she tried to run, but she couldn’t move fast enough. I caught her by the arm, gently turning her towards me. She looked up, frightened and panicked, struggling in vain to escape. In that moment, a flicker of something like euphoria hit me. She reminded me of my younger self—lost and alone.

I pulled her close, wrapping her in a hug. "It's okay," I whispered, "I won't hurt you."

She stopped resisting and let me hold her. Her tears soaked into my jacket, and I only held her tighter.

After a while, I carried her to my car. She looked around the interior with wide-eyed curiosity, touching everything within reach. It was as if an entirely new world had opened up to her. As I drove away from the village, I called the police, informing them that I was taking her to the hospital and they should come and figure out what to do next.

When we arrived at the hospital, she grew frightened again, shrinking away from the unfamiliar faces. To comfort her, I held her hand as I helped her onto the bed. I carefully removed the fur coat, revealing the wounds and scars that marked her body. The doctor stared at us both, but mostly at her, in shock and disbelief. She watched him like a cornered animal, ready to strike if he came too close.

That day was long and exhausting. She trusted no one but me. When the police arrived, they couldn't get any information from her, and there were no missing person reports that matched her description. It was as if she didn’t exist. They didn't know what to do with her, but I did.

"I'll take her," I told the police without hesitation.

Months passed as she slowly began to learn about the world she was now a part of. It was a challenging process, but eventually, she started repeating words I said and could form simple sentences. Everything was a trigger for her—even something as harmless as a toaster. But she found joy in watching movies, especially *Rapunzel*. The look of fascination in her eyes is something I'll never forget. The monster in the woods had become my wife.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice calm as she entered my office, munching on some chicken. She was barefoot, and our two beautiful children followed behind her, barely reaching her thighs, each holding their own piece of roasted chicken, eating just like their wild mother.

"Nothing, my love," I replied, smiling as I looked at them. "Just writing about the dream I once had..."