Hi. This is the story Fairytales. It started off as a one shot project to bastardize the childrens stories and make then darker. But now, it has expanded into a story on it's own. I truly hope that you read and enjoy it. And, I will ask as always, if you would please review. They help keep me motivated. Thank you.

And now, with no further ado, I present to you…

Fairytales

By: Demon Goddess.

That’s what he called them. The night, which was a sanctuary and time of rest for others, was a den of horror. As he saw the sun set, he would feel imminent doom settling on him, like an ooze slowly depleting him of oxygen.

Ever since his monster made an apparence, he wished he had been cursed by a wicked stepmother or evil witch; he wished he was cursed to become a hideous monster or a swan, so that he would be repulsive or be able to fly away from his plight. But he wasn’t, he was a normal boy whose only curse was being beautiful and desired, by the wrong person.

He didn’t understand why she didn’t see it, why she didn’t see the fact that no matter how sick he got, he would go out to school, practice or somewhere far away from his house. It wasn’t a home; when he heard home, he thought a mother and a father, love, warmth, maybe a pet and some younger sibling to teach things to. The place in which he lived was not a home; it was a shelter from the rain that leaked in other things.

It was a sanctuary of misery, and secrets that you dared not mention. He would listen for any sign of activity on his way home, always wondering if he should go within the large house, or keep walking by, as if the building that he wanted to go to was farther down the lane, down the street, maybe in some other county. He would maybe keep walking and maybe find a house that welcomes him, a house like the one in The House on Mango Street, a place where he is welcomed in and he is loved and he isn’t touched in any way that hurt; a house of the heart.

He would walk into the large oak door, unlocking the keys as quietly as he could manage. He thought that if he couldn’t hear him, he would be able to hide, and stay somewhere hidden. It never worked. He would do his work, his door closed, with things piled aganist it in a makeshift gate. But then, he would have to open it; his mother liked working the graveyard shift in the emergency room, she said that she was comfortable during the night. He would have to say goodbye, give her a hug and a kiss. He would hug her tight, hoping that she would notice something different about him. Had he been different for so long that it wasn’t noticeable? The fact that he had dark circles underneath his eyes, how much it hurt him to sit down, the glassy look that had invaded his once bright, childhood filled face. He would stare at her for what seemed like an eternity, hoping that some wordless communication would be translated from his heart to hers; something that made her say no about leaving and hold him in her arms.

She would ask him what was wrong; as if he could convey to her the years of torment that he had experienced. Even if his courage were high, he would see the dark shadow looming ominously behind her, waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

All he could get out would be a small ‘I love you’. He could tell that the figure was laughing at his weakness, at the fact that he couldn’t even say the words that where in his heart, he would just hide it deeper within.

And then he would take his shower and go to his bedroom, laying down and trying to slow the beating of his heart. He could have sworn that the beast outside his door could hear the thumping and smell his fear. He couldn’t place barriers back at the door; his mother could come back at any moment. He would reach for his stuffed teddy bear, the only person that knew about these things and that he could talk to. He put his nightlight on, hoping that it’s soft glow would cast some sort of spell to keep safe. He knew how pathetic he must seem, and knew that if anyone found out, they would probably make fun of him for the rest of his days; a fourteen year guy sleeping with a night light and stuffed animal. If only they knew the horror or that awaited him; a true beast that wouldn’t always linger in the shadows, something that could come out and get him at any moment.

At first, the Monster would pace past his room a few times, getting him on edge, laughing in his deep monster voice. Next, he would swing the door open to complete darkness. The male’s pupils went crazy, not knowing whether he should stare into the night, or stare out the window to the (hopefully) moonlit sky. Then the monster would finally make an appearance. They younger Boy knew better than to fight, but his instinct’s made him.

He would claw at he large, muscular arms that held him, screaming as loud as he could. He would theme them on fairytales, the amount of times he would deface the young, seemingly strong body.

He would hear the monster’s laugh… you idiot, did you think a light would stop me?

He would hear the monster knock his light out of the wall next to his bed. The young man would hold onto his teddy bear with all of his strength. He would feel the monster stroke his hair and head; feel the monster touch him in way that made him want to throw up, and he probably would. He would feel his body being used over and over again; he would hear the monster day that Sleeping Beauty needed to be awaken tonight with more than a kiss.

Somewhere in between the vomiting, the laughing and squeezing of his bear, he would pass out of consciousness. He would awake to the smell of blood leaking from his butt, staining the sheets further; and the smell of vomit and seed spilled multiple times.

He would hear the sound of the monsters voice and shudder; knowing that this was his shelter.