Random Short Stories

monster

"Bang!"

The loud noise shocked me to my senses.

It was followed by the clattering of the gun on the floor.

A man lay by the boxes, bleeding and bleeding. He lay there, perfectly still.

D-dead.

I stared at the gun on the floor. It wasn't me. I didn't do it. It was a sniper. Or some hidden assassin in the shadows. It wasn't me. It just wasn't me.

I couldn't move, I just stood rooted to the ground.

There was an itch somewhere in me. My arm. I just clawed on it, praying the itch would go away.

No matter how I scratched, the itch remained. I could feel the sting of torn skin. Yet, the itching didn't subside. It got worse as the minutes past.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, someone came. A whole group of people came.

They saw me. Pointed guns at me.

Why? Why did they point the guns at me? I didn't kill anyone. I was the victim here for witnessing such a scene! Yet my mouth couldn't open and vocalise my thoughts. All I could do was laugh. A sad laugh.

I put my hands over my head, and immediately, a few of the men surrounded me and forced me to the ground.

"You monster." I heard.

I wasn't a monster. Why did no one understand? Why could no one hear me?

As they cuffed my hands and shoved me in the back of the car, I realised that these people weren't ever going to listen to what I had to say. They would "investigate", frame me as the murderer, and I'll get hanged. No last words.

I couldn't help but laugh at my pathetic future.

"Quiet!" The man beside hissed. "Monster..." He muttered and turned back to his documents.

"I'm not a monster." I say, words finally flowing again.

"I was framed."

"There were multiple reports of people seeing you hold the gun. You still want to escape at this point of time? You really have no conscience, you monster."

"I'm not a monster. I'm not!" I lost control and screamed.

Why did no one believe me?

Days crawled by as I sat in my cell, waiting for a miracle to get me out.

I really was innocent.

I really was framed.

I waited and waited, till my execution date.

They loaded me onto an electric chair and announced my "crime",
"Prisoner 41579. Charged guilty for serial murder."

When I heard that, just a brief thought flashed through my mind, "Maybe I'm a monster afterall."

Then, everything turned black as the pain from thousands of electric sparks shot through my body.