Monster: You are a child.A child made of memory. A child made of bloom. A child made of change. A child made of truth.
Child: No, I am not made of truth, I am made of understanding.
Monster: What is the distinction?
Child: Understanding is what you choose to reflect and grow upon. Truth is something that your heart helps you see.
Monster: Do you speak to your heart?
Child: Everyday, but sometimes I do not listen. Sometimes, I am scared.
Monster: Are you scared, now?
Child: It teaches me the world is play. (the child lets out a small smirk, their eyes glinting and gleaming like stars that surrounded the monsters skin)
The monster walked back into the shadow, scared of the child who had learnt to see that flattery did not always condone honesty. This child would have been easy to love, if the monster had been ready to change, but the monster wanted to stay the same. The child was tired of monstrous games, monsters liked to stay in familiar places, while the child insisted on visiting what could not be known without incineration and dispersion.
The shadow followed the child steadily, waiting for the next opening.
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