Page 24 of Their Pretty Little Monster

“Where would you like to go, Sage?” a male unexpectedly greets me, causing me to jerk back in surprise, searching the room for him.

Except, I’m alone.

“Hello?” I answer cautiously, half expecting a figure to materialize in my room.

“Hello, Sage. My name is Howler, and I am the vessel.”

“You are?” I’ve never heard of such a thing.

“I control the vessel, navigating as instructed but also providing guidance. I assist all four thousand six hundred and ninety-three passengers aboard, including you now.” His voice seems friendly, but I’m stunned to hear the sheer number of monsters who live on this massive vessel.

“Nice to meet you. I want to explore a bit, I guess,” I say, lifting my head, unsure of which direction I should be speaking.

“Very well,” Howler responds. “Just outside your room, take the hallway to the end, turn left, and follow it to the transporter. I’ll guide you to the top level where the wonders of Blight await.”

“Sounds perfect,” I say, more to reassure myself than him. I head into the corridor bathed in shadows, lit only by the occasional flicker of lights embedded in the dark walls.

I push into a stroll, taking in the framed paintings on the wall of various creatures, one even of the Tidecreeper, paying more attention to them now that I’m not being rushed into my room by Killian.

As I continue down the dimly lit corridor, the air subtly shifts, growing dense with a scent that tugs at the edges of my memory—a blend of something dusty and sweet, like wild jasmine hanging in the air. It’s oddly comforting, and it calls to me.

Drawn by the fragrance, I quicken my pace until I notice the corridor subtly widens, spearing into three directions. I’m swinging to the right, where the smell is stronger and leads me to a grand, ornately carved door left slightly ajar. A sliver of soft, bright light spills through the crack, casting dancing shadows that flicker. The smell intensifies, sweeter now, mingling with the musty odor of something like fresh rain on dry soil.

I push the door open and enter a large, circular room that appears to be a library or perhaps a study. Heart speeding up with excitement I hadn’t expected, I take in the lofty room and the thousands of books. I can’t believe my eyes. Towering shelves flooded with books of all sizes line the curved walls that have no sign of ladders or stairs to reach books several stories high.

“Is this real?” The books I’ve read were mostly about farming and nature, with a couple that my mother owned about a fantasy world with elves. But this… I giggle, struggling to understand how this monster world is so bad. Compared to being an outcast back home, being ignored or pushed around by others, have we been scaring ourselves with stories about these monsters?

In the center of the room, a globe the same height as me sits on a golden bracket. It’s a world I don’t recognize, and as I approach it, the orb slowly rotates, its intricate details absorbing the room’s light. I reach out, half expecting it to feel as fluid as it looks, but the surface is hard, solid. Yet when I touch it, the water ripples under my fingers.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I give the globe a gentle spin. What catches my eye is the vastness of water. One great mass of land hunkers to the north, flanked by a scattering of tiny islands, then there are a few more small ones here and there, but that’s it. The rest is an endless blue. It’s bewildering, the notion of a world so dominated by water.

There’s no beep from Howler, which I find intriguing, as I’d expect him to interrupt and tell me about this globe. Perhaps he isn’t always around unless called?

Shaking off the silence, I wander over to a bookshelf, letting my fingers trail along the leather-bound spines. The titles are a mix of English and scripts I can’t decipher, unusual symbols I guess belong to the monsters’ language.

As I delve deeper into the room, my feet land on a square metal plate unexpectedly.

Instantly, I’m shot upward on the small metal platform.

I scream, wobbling frantically, crouching to avoid tumbling out as it whisks me up at an alarming speed.

The platform halts abruptly, and my heart feels like it might burst through my chest. I desperately clutch the railing that runs across the row of books.

“What the fuck?” I blurt out, gazing down at the dizzying height. Panic flutters through me; I’m not usually afraid of heights, but this is too much.

Swiveling around, I try to spot a way down, but my attention is caught by a movement across the room—something blurry and dark—but when I snap my eyes up, there’s nothing there. Just the flickering lights, the shadows, the books.

I’m losing my mind.

“Hello? Howler?” I call out into the stillness, and the silence that follows is suffocating.

Panic mounts as I notice movement again from the corner of my eye. Each time I try to focus, it disappears. Trembling, I glance down and find two subtly raised silver buttons integrated into the base I’m standing on. With a deep breath, feeling the threat of whatever lurks nearby growing, I tap down on one button.

Nothing happens.

Shit.

Desperation clawing at my throat, I stomp on the second button. This time, I’m plunging downward so fast my stomach hits the back of my throat, a scream ripping from my lips. I hit the ground with a thud that rattles my teeth. I tumble out, dizzy and disoriented, shocked I didn’t just die.

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