Bad

This was part of an exercise I attempted while I was teaching in Korea. I tried to write a story a day based on Red Riding Hood for as long as I could keep it up, and didn't even make it through a week. I was pretty pleased with the one I wrote before this, a direct retelling with all the metaphors and symbolism stripped away, but that has unfortunately lost to the silicon aether. This one's the sad result of too many victorious villain films and Neil Gaiman short stories. I think the main problem here is that I tried to make the narrator too many things within a limited first person monologue. If anyone has any other input on where I went wrong here, I'd appreciate reading it.


Before we begin, I should tell you that you were right when you said I am not like other men. Those who know me best do not know me at all. You understand? Or rather, they know me twice. On the one hand, they know my face, my manner, my deeds, and my trade. They think this is all there is to know of me, just like you did. On the other hand, they, like you, know my reputation. It has been the work of a lifetime to ensure that they should never associate the two. Don't you feel honored to have that privilege?



My reputation, you see, has earned me certain titles that I feel would not suit me. Monster. Beast. And others, more caustic, like the ones you must be thinking of. Names like those have some power over one's affairs, you know. With my given name, I am a man whose passage is met with a cheerful smile and a nod, I spend my leisure hours in light and pleasant company like yours, I wear a collared shirt to work. With the names I've earned, my last and only collar would be made of hemp. And why?
Because every home is a castle. Because the best walls have no doors. Because good fences make good neighbors. Because men lie to themselves first, and then to one another.

I am not like other men, but I once was. There were times, when I was young, when I thought like they do. There was even one time, you may be surprised to learn, when I thought as you do now. It's easy to get into the habit of letting others think for you, of adopting their views, of accepting the voice of the majority as the law of nature or her god. But as one matures; at least, one like me; one finds one's own inner nature is the only guide to true righteousness. Perspective, you see-- it's all a matter of perspective, and that more literally than you may think. Indulge me a moment, since I have a captive audience. Allow me to explain.

Around any issue, like any object, there is room enough for all manner of perspectives. You see? Of course you do. Now, this would seem, at the first consideration, to suggest pure moral relativism; one can choose to look from whatever point on whatever plane one wishes. But consider this: we are not alone, and no two people may occupy the same position at the same time. Therefore, where two or more try to take the same perspective, all except the one nearest the issue must lose sight of it altogether. It is only ever those who are most affected by or effective upon an issue who can hold the matter firmly in their view. The rest, to mix metaphors, cannot see the woods for the trees. You understand? Feel free to interrupt if you do not.
I realized, therefore, that I cannot let others, whose experience in these affairs was more limited than my own, dictate my ethics. My view is less clouded than theirs; empirically, my feelings on these matters have more legitimacy than theirs. Of course, they would not agree that this is so. It is possible that no one would. Do you? Don't worry, you don't have to speak. I know. I am not a member, nor a leader, of any movement, and I do not wish to be. I know the truth of the matter, and I am content to remain alone in my position.

I am not like other men. I am a monster. And so these days, when the time comes to do what I feel I should, I make no excuses and I feel no remorse. I am careful and secretive, of course, and see no hypocrisy in this. Is a wolf a hypocrite, if it kills the doe only when they are alone? Not a bit of it. No, don't try to scream. It is not the time for screaming. You are getting ahead of yourself. This is the bargaining stage.

I am not like other monsters. I do not lie to myself, as I know others have done. No one and nothing tells me to do these things. These desires are no different than any others. They are not an illness, and they are not beyond my considerable powers to resist. Every time I take these actions, it is by my choice alone.

Is that a glimmer of hope I see? You may have misunderstood. Were I asked why I do this, and I can see you would like to ask, I would answer that I wish to, and that would have to suffice. I make no pretenses. I tell no lies about what I am, or what I do. I state things as they are.

When I saw you blushing under your hood, it was as good as over. My choices are long since made, and it was by no failing of yours that we are here. I am a reaction. I am a force of nature. I am a predator. I know the right smile, and I know the right words. I leave the bait, and lay the trap. Is it your fault you fall into it? Never. I know how you will react, too. It's easy to know, when they are so young. Ask any hunter. Ask any predator.

But, there again, I should tell you, I am not like other predators. I seek neither survival nor sport. I know what I want, and my needs are simple. You must think you know them, with your education, with your politics. To dominate, to control, yes of course, but only to be myself. If I sought pleasure, I would be a different person with different needs. That has never been my way. I do what must be done. My pleasure is only incidental, and my duty is only to myself. I am a creature of miswired instinct, designed perfectly to execute those actions which serve to endanger my survival. My body is primed for your destruction, not for its own preservation. Don't whimper, please, or we may have to proceed a bit early. Let me go on; I so rarely get the chance to share my theories. My intellect is a boon, my charisma, my size. The better to hear you, the better to taste you, the better to take you, and then? The chop, if anyone finds out. But I have been fortunate, and I survive, forever apart from my reputation.

Yes, I have been very fortunate, but don't let me mislead you. You wouldn't make that mistake again, would you? I am never unprepared. I know that there are hunters out there. They may be looking for you, and if not, they are always looking for me. Sharpening their axes bitterly, their faces set. And why not? Mostly, they speak from ignorance, but the best of them, they have been there, they know what it's like, as you do and as I did. Those few have every right to hunt. They know these matters almost as well as I do, the honest ones, whose axes gleam with gold and silver. They are the ones who remember your fear, as I do. They know what I am and what they are, and tell no lies and make no excuses. But they have experience of only one side of that subtle game, so they have only one point of view; my experience is from both, and so I can see the depth of the matter, which gives me an advantage in the hunt. And, of course, I hear what they don't.

“Oh daddy, what big hands you have...”

Now, hush. It wasn't your fault. Instinct always prevails.

Oh yes, I know your fear, I know your hopelessness now that it's arrived. You're mourning the loss of a loved one, you know, and you've reached the fourth stage. I am truly sorry to inform you that you will not reach the fifth. Believe me, if you can, I take no pleasure in inflicting these feelings; but pleasure, you will recall, is not my object. Sometimes, I think it would be more pleasurable to be found, to taste that same powerlessness, the same lack of control, and to let there be an ending. What do you think? Yes? Well...

I could let them take me, but then they haven't really won, and where is the story in that? No, they must overcome me. Stumble upon me, or see through my disguise, as you wish you could have. Then I would have really lost, and nature would be satisfied. But they won't. They can't. My disguise is perfect. Even to myself, I could be two people. My reputation is like an acquaintance to me.
I am not like other men. I'm sure of that. Logically, it has to be true. There's only one of me. But there is a funny thing, something you should know, now, as we come to the end...

Sometimes my reputation grows without my knowledge. Things happen without me that add more of those names and epithets to my collection. And at times like that, I have to believe just what you are realizing now: there may not be any woodsmen coming.