It’s Not About That


Look beyond the post. Who gives a damn about it being in the middle of nowhere?

It’s Not About That

What was the attraction? That is, what drew my eye past the post? Was there something beyond it, or was that thing right in front of my face? My eyes could never get a good focus on the thing–they somehow managed to slide off of it each time. Things like that make you wonder: what the hell happened here?

What’s going on?

What am I not seeing?

I never lingered there for more than five minutes. The post and the field it was located in were both on private land.

Until about a week ago, I wouldn’t have called myself paranoid, but when I flicked on the local news I saw the most bizarre story. The owner of the land had been arrested for murder. Except . . . the victims did not match the identities of any missing people.

The remains of ten bodies have been uncovered. So far the DNA results are inconclusive, but as of yet the forensics team have been unable to identify them as human . . .

Paranoid might be the wrong word. I never know what to think anymore. All I can do is wonder about that field, the post, and the forest beyond it where the bodies were found. And, how I knew something was wrong.


By the Smallest Force


By the Smallest Force

Reality is shaped by the forces that destroy it.
― D. Harlan Wilson, The Kyoto Man

(We apologize for the irregularity of posts lately. We’re doing our best to stay on top of everything, while working full/part-time jobs, and just living in general. We’ve been watching Attack on Titan lately, and that’s probably why we’ve titled this post By the Smallest Force. Enjoy your quote of the week!)


The Mysterious, the Ominous–Whatever You Like


The Mysterious, the Ominous–Whatever You Like

You know, I haven’t done a speculative entry for months now. Partly because I don’t know what to write half the time (which is the charm I suppose). The other part? I don’t always feel like pulling inane drivel from between the air molecules. It’s not as easy as it seems either.

But this quote illustrates an idea I’ve been grasping at for the past year (since the Enigmatic Monster Project began).

Dark nights. Dark in a suggestive way, meaning full of intent. Out of the ordinary. Not just the absence of light . . .

When is darkness more than just the lack of light? (When is a door not a door?)


It seems that the more I think about the smaller things, the larger they become. Simple things become ambiguous. And yet the world still turns.


Girl in the Glass


Suddenly a dismal figure flashed by in the window.

Girl in the Glass

The window looked out upon a small backyard; behind the house was the forest. He only saw her at sunrise and sunset. That was when he was six. She had scared him then, but he had been  a young boy with an imagination. When he was a teenager he had dismissed her. Now, as an adult, he wasn’t certain what to make of it.

His childhood home was old now. The family had moved away when he was around eight. When pressed for answers, no one seemed to remember why. He suspected that his parents knew something. They would never tell, though.

That’s why he came back.

He stood in the musty kitchen, looking out that same window.

It wasn’t dirty. Just warped somehow. But inside the glass, not on its surface . . . He had checked outside, and he still couldn’t understand it. It was a single-paned window, with one sheet of glass. One of the old ones, with the metal framing, and the latches that always seemed to get stuck whenever you tried to close the window. The glass was dirty on the surface, but warped inside of itself.

Like gasoline.

He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

There was a scurrying sound, and he jumped. Wild animals had taken up residence here; there was a fox, a multitude of mice and squirrels, and a pigeon roost in the attic. Nothing here though. Not even a cobweb.

Like something was . . .

. . . What?

Scaring them away?

He swung back to the window. Something had hissed at him. From behind.

And it wasn’t a mouse.

The window had grown noticeably darker, like a bruise, or something else. Outside there was a bright afternoon sun overhead.

Before anything else could happen, he turned around and bolted.

There was nothing to see here.

The Show Must Go On

That is correct, the show MUST go on! Four months is far too short a time for an undertaking such as this one; all of the work we did would just seem a waste if only a few people had a chance to see it.

Not only that, but we had so much fun making our 1st issue that we want to give you more! So here is our offer to you: you can give us inspiration for stories to write or you can send in something to Team Monster. Also, if there’s anything you believe will help make The Enigmatic Monster Project even better, we’re all up for hearing it! 

Once again, thank you for all the likes, shares, and follows! Team Monster wouldn’t be here without all of you! Spread the word and help us with our monstrous undertaking!

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