Continue to Stop Staring

So I hear that some people—you know who you are—say that I’m running some kind of halfway house for monsters or something?  Now I ain’t gonna say that they’re wrong.  But I sure as hell ain’t gonna say that they’re right.  I mean, yeah, I rent out my rooms without asking too many questions; s’long as they can pay and look normal enough I let ‘em in.  But some grungy troll monster comes knocking at my door?  I do whatever a good Southern woman would do:  grab my shotgun and blow that trash away.

But hey, let’s humor ‘em for a bit, shall we?  I ain’t no fool; I know these days we got them vampires and the werewolves and the aliens and crap that look just like normal people.  Never mind how am I supposed to know what they are when they’re obviously trying to hide it; let’s just pretend I know and they know I know, kay?

Because seriously, monsters today got it rough.  Back in the good ‘ol days?  Villagers would scatter like gulls on the beach, they could pick off whomever they wanted, and all they gotta deal with is torches and pitckforks.  Now?  Man, people are running towards the monsters waving their damn smart phones trying to get a good video to post on Youtube.  You got reporters shining lights in your face, national guard’s got body armor and a truckload of bullets, and about a million skeptics saying “Nice costume, ya freak” behind your back.  Being a monster must really suck.

I feel sorry for ‘em, I really do.  Bad enough having to deal with the problems normal people face, and then their special magic problems on top of it.  Makes me think they just want a place to get away from it all and just be them, whoever the hell they are underneath.  And that’s just it, ain’t it?  We don’t know who they are underneath, ‘cause they’re too busy trying to either A: not get killed, or B: kill us.  I mean, yeah, sure, for most of ‘em that’s all there is to it, but wouldn’t ya think there’s a few out there who just want what you want?  Stable job, car that don’t break down, boyfriend, movie nights?

If I’m running a halfway house for monsters, those are the kind of folk who’d be in it.  Folk what don’t look no different, don’t act no different than you or me.  They might as well not even be monsters for all I care, and guess what, I don’t care.  So you people, you keep looking at me like that, with all your judgment and none of your concrete proof monsters exist in the first place.  I ain’t here to tell ya they do or don’t, or that any of my tenants are or aren’t.  I’m here to tell ya it don’t matter one way or the other.


{This character is most very likely going to be a character in Believer (that is still a totally tentative title and I don’t like it) at some point and in some incarnation.  I’m quite enjoying the things I’m finding out she says.}


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