The Scariest Monster of All

In art class, the teacher instructed us to make a monster.

“It could have eighty heads and five hundred wriggling tentacles, if you like,” she said. She started using her arms in an animated mime as she tried to show the students what she wanted. “Bright purple, thirty six eyes and three tails. Whatever you like. It’ll be fun, you just have to draw in it whichever art style you prefer. You have to write a description of it as well, and why you chose to draw it that way.”

“This teacher’s a nutter, Alf,” my friend Tannon whispered. “Sometimes I've got absolutely no idea why she waves her arms around and all that jazz.”

“Yeah, she’s a little…” I thought for a moment. “…eccentric.”

We got on with the task. I sat thinking for a little while, but no ideas came. I tried flicking through the books the teacher showed us, all stories about scary monsters snatching princesses and terrorizing kingdoms.

None of them seemed scary to me, not after all the horror movies Tannon and I watched.

I spent a week trying to think of an appropriate monster, one that was scary enough to stand out from the rest of the class’, but one that was still easy enough for me to draw.

I sighed and decided to work on my history essay instead. We were doing World War Two this term; I was mildly interested in it because it wasn't as boring as the stupid old Industrial Revolution or the founding of Australia (which, might I add, I had learned for eight years straight).

I stopped on one particular page of my history book, one on the Holocaust.

I paused.

As soon as I’d taken my mind off art, I’d been given the perfect idea.

The next Thursday, I walked confidently into the art class with a sketchbook tucked under one arm.

“Can I see it?” Tannon asked. “Is it scary? Will the girls scream?”

I shook my head. “You’ll see it when we reveal. Yeah, it’s scary, but I don’t think the girls are gonna scream.”

“Aw.” Tannon pouted. “Bummer.”

We waited for the rest of the students to show their work. It was all pretty average, tentacles and fangs and all that stuff. Not that scary.

“Alfred Mackenzie?”

I stood up and turned to the class.

“Okay,” I said firmly. “I drew a monster with four limbs, two eyes, no fangs, no teeth and no claws. It has no laser vision or super strength, but it has still destroyed more people than any other beast. Its greatest asset is also its greatest weakness; its intellect. It is filled with a lust for power, and the greatest capability for hatred of any beast. It would even kill its own family, just because it could.”

I flipped open my book and showed my sketch.

A man, standing alone, a gun in his hand.

“I drew a human, because we can be the scariest monster of them all.”