Gran’s lighter.
I opened it up, flicked the wheel, and it sparked, lighting.
It had been cleaned and filled, taken care of.
Carefully, my fingers trembling slightly, I untied the string, unwrapped the paper bundle.
There was a smooth gray pebble tucked into the center.
And on the paper, a message:
The Monster gives the Monster Hunter a stone so she can make a wish.
What does the hunter wish for?
What does she dream of?
What does the Monster dream?
An old dream, a dream of endings and beginnings.
A dream of fire.
Of a lever pulled and a world of bright white light, crumbling ruin.
A single line spoken: “We belong dead.”
Do you share the same dream?
Do you dream it with me?
My skin buzzed with electricity.
Heart hammering, I looked around, eyes studying the trees, ears pricked for any sound. I had the strongest sensation that I was being watched.
That this was part of the game.
Hide-and-seek.
Catch me if you can.
“Hello?” I called out, voice small.
I was sure I could feel it, the creature’s eyes on me. I’d never been this close before.
“Are you there?” I called.
The trees rustled in the wind, leaves quaking, branches banging together.
Waves came up and lapped at the rocky shore.
The sound of a distant motorboat.
A loon called, low and mournful, a strange mocking laugh.
I tucked the lighter, paper, and stone carefully into my pocket, made an effort to inhale slowly and deeply. When I felt like I wasn’t in danger of fainting, I made my way back up the steps to the trail.
The Monster
August 20, 2019
I WATCH FROM THE trees, my heart beating so hard I think it might come flying right out of my chest, soar all the way up to the clouds, singing her name.
It’s been so long.
So, so long!
But here she is! It’s unbelievable, really. Here she is, reaching into the birch, pulling out my gifts.
I knew! I knew she’d find them. She’s a clever one, this hunter of monsters.
I bite my tongue to keep from crying out, from calling to her, using her old name, the one she left behind so long ago.
I bite down so hard I taste blood, salty and warm.
“Hello?” she calls out, her eyes moving right over me.
“Are you there?” she asks.
Yes, yes, yes!
And I almost step out, show myself.
The restraint actually physically hurts. The pull is that strong.
Magnetic.
But it’s not time yet.
I hold my breath.
Vi
July 7, 1978
I’M TELLING YOU, I saw it!” Eric insisted, voice squeaky and whistling, like someone was squeezing a dog toy in his throat.
“Describe it again,” Vi said. She felt like a detective from TV: Kojak, with his bald head and lollipops, or Columbo, with his rumpled raincoat and cigar.