THE PROTECTOR OF LIGHT As I walked towards her, I felt that something unthinkable was about to happen. The alleyway was illuminated by flickering lights and the only sounds heard are the sniffles coming from the woman sitting in the dirty floor, her body illuminated by a strange glow. I continued my approach and she looks up, bolting upwards and away from me. Her movement reveals a long gash across her stomach, blood soaking her shirt. I ran towards her and in my panic, I failed to notice the horrified look in her face and as she stumbles, I make a grab for her, but a blinding light stops me. As I open my eyes, I notice the girl is no longer there, no traces of her left behind. I consider calling the police but the fear of being called crazy leads me to attribute this whole thing to stress so I return home. As I get into my building and search for my keys, I notice her, the girl! I approached quickly and she shows no sign of recognition. She no longer seems injured, her face the picture of boredom. “You! Are you okay? I was so worried, you disappeared.” – I proclaim. She eyes me warily before turning around and walking away with a murmured “freaking creep”. Anger fills me as I watch her walk away because how dare she, I was just worried, I was just being a nice guy. “Women have no appreciation” I proclaim as I retreat angrily to my apartment. My latest work is spread across the table, and with anger fuelling me I finish the machine and without a second thought about test rats, I press the button and the machine begins whirling, the noises become worrying and before I know it a blinding light has surrounded me and then… then I’m not myself, I am something more primal, a being made of my anger and hatred. I began walking, every step landing in a different ground and I barely notice as cement turns to sand, sand to grass, as memories of my childhood enact before my eyes, and suddenly I become aware that I’m in front of the girl’s apartment. I don’t bother knocking and when I finally come to myself, I’m standing above her, my hands bright red. The girl is glowing again, and she disappears from under me in a flash. Only my angry pants are heard in the silence until I scream, an angry and frustrated scream, and before I notice I’m in a wasteland, no civilization in sight and the girl stands before me. She looks different, stronger, and as she approaches me, still glowing like an angel of destruction ready to bring me to the afterlife, I notice the knife in her hands. It was too late to react as she plunges it into me. My anger ebbs away and I can finally think clearly, and now without the dark cloud of my hatred blinding me, the realization comes to me, it is not her, the cause my demise but I am. Indeed, I am the monster and she is the protector. Inês G.
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