monster

The forest seemed to have a dark life of its own: every rustle sounded like a warning, and shadows wove together into shapes that shouldn't have been there. I didn't know how many days I'd been sitting in that barn—it was completely rotten, the boards darkened by damp, and gaping cracks let in a dim light. He brought me here. Tall, unnaturally straight, as if composed of sharp angles and darkness. When he moved, it seemed as if the very silence recoiling from him. I knew immediately: this was not a man. On the first day, he brought something else—a cat. A strange, frightened cat, its fur matted with dirt. It thrashed around the barn, scratching at the boards, trying to find a way out. And then… then he ate it. And it wasn't just murder—it changed. It was as if the life had drained out of it, to be filled with something else, something terrible. When the monster threw it back at me, I thought I'd die of terror. But the cat, now different, came up to me and purred softly. As if to say, "We're together now. We're surviving." And we really did become friends—two prisoners in the same rotten corner. One day, through a crack, I saw her—a woman walking through the forest, shouting her son's name. Her voice was broken, full of despair. "He was here!" I wanted to scream. "Help!" But I only pressed myself against the boards and watched her approach. She noticed me. Hope flashed in her eyes for a moment, and then understanding. She didn't ask any unnecessary questions. She simply said quietly:

• I have a plan. We'll trick him. I agreed. Not because I believed in success, but because sitting in the barn and waiting for him to return was unbearable. We set a trap. It all seemed so simple: bait, an escape route, a moment when he'd let his guard down. But the monster didn't fall for it. The trap didn't catch him—it angered him. I saw his figure grow even taller, the darkness around him thicken, as if nature itself was frightened by his fury. He ruined our plan. And then he killed her in front of me.