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The Creature

The room was uncomfortable. Resembling an asylum cell or hospital operating theater, it was white from floor to ceiling and lit with a single fluorescent tube light set right in the middle of the ceiling above a table with a chair on either side. Along the wall to the left of the door was a large mirror, spanning from end to end. The single tube light cast a clear brightness over everything, revealing each detail in the room in shocking, off putting brilliance. The clear bright light of the law. A beacon of truth shining over and revealing details that may have rather hid in the shadows. There were no such shadows to hide behind in this room. There really wasn’t anything as a matter of fact. Just the mirror, walls, chairs and the table. The light flickered.

The air in the room was dead, a certain stagnant weight lay over it. On the other side of the mirror, things were a little more lively but still very tense. The officials were all sitting impatiently, occasionally checking watches, adjusting glasses and fiddling with writing utensils or tape recorders. The room was so tense that there was almost an audible humming. Feet tapped, noses itched, coffee was greedily consumed. The second hand on the clock ticked ominously. The temperature rose

The hoard waited quietly, existing alongside one another for the sake of the story, the discovery or the spectacle. Men and women who had not spoken with one another in years were in this room. They sat next to each other staring, without blinking, through the mirror like a group of starving dogs. They were poised, they were hungry, and they were in desperate need of a story. These were reporters and journalists, scientists and observers. This was what they did.

It was not until precisely ten o’clock in the evening that, finally, something happened. The door at the far end of the room unlatched. The knob turned and hinges glided silently as the whole contraption swung open.

In walked the Warden. He was a tall, handsome man, or at least he had been. In the bright beauty of his youth the Warden had stood an impressive two meters in height and was built like a towering oak. He had been revered and feared on the field of many sports, graduated at the top of his class and boxed in the service before moving into the position of Warden. Now he was reduced to a measly one meter eighty five. Still tall, but nothing in comparison to his former glory. He had however preserved his pride, his confidence and his poise. Walking stooped, but self assured nonetheless, he lead behind him the main event. The reason that the room was tense. The reason that the reporters, journalists, scientists, experts and the like were crammed expectantly in the room behind the large mirror. The Creature entered the interrogation room. It walked to the opposite side of the table and sat. the Warden sat opposite the Creature and looked it in the eyes.

There was something there in that Creature’s strange eyes. Something that the Warden simply could not understand. He had worked for many years and had dealt with many criminals. Thieves, murderers, rapists, vandals, addicts, conmen, thugs. He understood these people. They all had the same looks. The same eyes. They all made him feel the same way. The Creature was different from all of them.

“What is your name”

He demanded. His mouth was very dry and his palms sweaty. His voice however, a rich baritone, still rang true. Not a quiver to be heard. The Creature didn’t seem to pick up on any of this. Not his overtone of confidence and power, not his underlying fear. To the Creature, his reputation didn’t exist. It was not concerned. It just looked back at him with nonchalance and indifference.

“What is your name?”. The question was repeated. Louder this time, and with more strength. The Creature was still silent.

“If you fail to answer the question, we will be forced to prosecute you anyway.”

The Warden was growing more confident. Supported by the hoard behind the glass, his confidence began to creep back.

“God dammit you bastard what is your name!?”

The Warden was shouting now. His face was getting a tinge of red and a vein was coming out near his temple, peeking out from below his hat.

The Creature’s defiance persevered. It was not fighting back or complying with the Wardon’s demands. It just simply refused to cooperate, it was operating on an entirely different level (socially speaking) and this is what bothered the Warden so much. A spitting, cursing, flailing vagabond could be dealt with easily. A submissive crook was easier still. The Creature on the other hand, was a puzzle. It didn’t fit into a box.

The Warden stared in disbelief. No one and nothing had ever defied him like this. He was the man of the station. The cock of the roost. The Alpha of the pack. He was universally respected in the community.

“Alright. The choice is yours. Your trial will be tomorrow and you will be fetched at 11:30.”

With that, a pair of guards strolled in. The larger of the two cuffed the Creature and began leading him out of the interrogation room while the other took up the rear, covering the Creature from a distance with his rifle.

The Warden was exhausted. He stared into the two way mirror, his face painted with drained disbelief and resignation. He was angry. A deep bitter sort of anger that throbbed from somewhere deep in his gut. He slowly stood from his chair, brushed down his uniform, turned on his heel and strode out of the interrogation room.

The room behind the glass erupted. The events in the interrogation room had totally captivated those on the other side of the mirror. Now that the questioning had been given up on, utter pandemonium took hold and the true nature of these watchers shone through. Chaos! Journalists were scribbling frantically, scientists arguing with each other passionately, experts running from one place to another looking for the phone (which had been ripped out of the wall as the comotion took place). All sense of humanity and plain common decency was totally abandoned.

The war in the room behind the glass raged on. Each person there was angry that the Creature had duped their shining Warden without even saying a word. They had (for the most part) abandoned their original tasks of recording and observing in favour of argument with one another. The Creature had put them at each other’s throats; the pot had been well stirred.

Finally, the experts rallied once more. They ran their hands down the fronts of their suits, dresses and general finery before curtly nodding to one another and exiting the room single file. It was time for home.

The Warden was also on his way home. He lived on the other side of town from the station and the walk was far. His legs were strong however and he was not quite ready to face his wife with the humiliating news. As he marched solemnly through the town, head hung low, shaking it in disbelief now and then he pondered what had just happened to him. Forty-three years with law enforcement and no one had ever bested him. He was an imposing man, not accustomed to such defiance. He could not get the image of the Creature’s strange, foreign eyes out of his head. That face so different from those of other criminals would haunt him until the end of time, he was sure of it.

Approaching his home now, he paused for a moment. His fist had been clenched of its own accord. Slowly, he let it unfurl, removed his cap, pushed back his hair and walked the last block or so at a brisker pace.

The Warden’s house was a modest, neat little thing in a very quiet residential neighborhood. The door was painted a warm shade of yellow, complementing the redbrick of the house. It was a quarter past eleven now. The Wife would surely be asleep. The Warden cracked open the door, slowly, slowly as to not make a sound and crept to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. Peanut butter and strawberry jam with the crusts cut off. It had been his snack of choice since he was a boy and everything about it always put his mind at ease.

He made his way to the living room where the wine coloured walls were adorned with certificates, photos of the family, and a very old painting of a ship that had been painted by the Wife’s grandfather about one-hundred and fifty years previously. He sank into the soft brown recliner, put his feet up and flicked on the television to enjoy his sandwich before bed. He looked down at the remote and adjusted the volume. Lower, the Wife must not be woken up.

When he looked up he saw the cat sitting on the small table next to the television. The slick black fur on its back gleamed in the light from the television and it’s great green eyes shone like well polished jade. The cat’s left ear had some chips taken out, memorials of past fights. Its tail hung off the table lazily and flicked now and again as it stared unblinkingly at the Warden.

“Psst!” hissed the Warden “Off!”

Cats shouldn’t sit on tables. It wasn’t that the animal was actually doing anything, the cat was just sitting there, but the fact remained clear: cats should not sit on tables!

The Cat gazed back

“Off!” The Warden said again, a little louder.

Still, the cat stared at the Warden. No concern was found in those great gleaming green eyes. The cat operated on another level. One that just did not coincide with the Warden’s.

“You goddamn cat” snarled the Warden. “Get down!”

With this he quickly grabbed for his revolver, a sleeping dragon, resting at his hip. He pointed the gun at the cat, breathing hard. He had the barrel trained on the beast’s head but a .357 was big enough to kill the cat no matter where it hit.

The cat was not impressed. It lazily turned its head and glanced out the window to the right of the television.

With his thumb, the Warden cocked the pistol.

The cat looked back, dropped off of the table and padded over to the kitchen where it’s food bowl was kept. A moment later, the crunching of kibble could be heard.

The Warden blinked. He hadn’t a clue as to what he was thinking. That cat had been a faithful companion to his Wife and had sat on that table grooming itself and basking in the sunlight for over a decade. It’s defiance had never gotten to him before. The feline hadn’t been sitting there to bother him. It posed no threat. I was just doing what it pleased. It was a cat. Cats do what they please.

Slowly, quivering, the gun was rehoused. A distraction was needed, so the Warden picked up the remote and flicked to channel thirty-nine: reality television. He loved these shows, loved critiquing their catty ridiculous characters, rooting for the ones that he liked and hoping against the ones that he didn’t.

As he lay in the recliner, watching his show, the lights of the show lulled him into a sense of security. He felt a little more calm, revitalised and generally better. He lay and watched until midnight and then fell asleep.

As the Warden slept in the recliner inside of his neat house on the far side of town, the Creature sat in its jail cell. It didn’t understand why it was there and couldn’t see what it had done wrong. It just sat in its cage and pondered.

The courthouse was a modest affair. The hardwood floor had been worn smooth by decades worth of shoes and had the city’s faded crest, a caged cannery hanging from an apple tree, painted right in the middle of the floor. The pews, judge’s podium and the witness stand were similar. Worn and ancient. The windows were high, flooding the room with the light of day, shining the sun directly over the stand. The clear light of justice. A cloud passed over the sun.

Like the floor, the pews and the podiums, the judge was also ancient and worn. A small man, he entered the hubbub of the courtroom from a door behind his stand and sat. His small eyes beadily surveyed the room and the various chattering experts His gnarled pink fingers clutched his gavel tightly. The gavel gave him power here in this room. He rapped it sharply three times. The Courtroom fell silent.

“Order! Order! Today we stand witness for the trial of an unknown person, a Creature, claimed to be guilty of crimes against the city.”

At the far end of the courtroom, the door swung open and in marched the bailiff, leading the Creature behind him. It was shackled and cuffed and peered unblinkingly at all of the experts and officials. From the back of the room, the Warden glared at the Creature. He was excited to see this thing thrown back into the cell that it had just left.

“May the first witness rise.” proclaimed the judge from the top of his stand.

The Farmer, a portly man with redened cracked skin and squinting piggish eyes stood up and made his way slowly to the witness stand. Although he was a farmer, he still dressed smartly, in the style of the city with a sharp fine suite and the customary corporate necktie tightened snugly around his thick neck.

“Do you swear by God to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth sir?” demanded the judge.

“I do your honour.”

“Well then farmer, describe how you came across this Creature.”

“It was early on tuesday morning sir and I was on my way to the fields to tend to my cattle.” said the farmer, scratching his head.

“As I was doing the usual business, I looked across my pasture to the field and saw the.. um.. cre- defendant walking along the old road that goes by on his way into town”

“Was there anything noteworthy about this individual?” asked the judge.

The Farmer paused for a minute and scratched his head.

“Well look at him your honour! He’s weird. He looks different. He wasn’t really dressed all that well and he looked like he had been sleeping outside, so I asked him what his business round these parts was.” The Farmer paused, but after the judge said nothing, continued on.

“And he just sort of looked at me your honour. He didn’t blink or say nothing or anything he just looked right at me and then kept on walking.”

The courtroom stirred. People looked at the Creature uncomfortably and experts scribbled in their notebooks. The Warden watched unblinkingly. He had read all of this information in the police report, but his heart was pounding in his chest and his fists were clenched.

“And so what did you do?”

“Well your honour, I’m a farmer sir. We don’t just sit around and let dangerous people come into our homes like that so I followed him down the road into town.”

“And where did he go?”

“He just kept on walking until he got to the School Teacher’s house sir. And he picked one of her flowers and then just kept on walking.”

“And did the School Teacher do anything about this?”

“Well of course she did your honour. She hollered at him and he did the same thing to her as he did to me: he just looked at her and walked on by into town.”

The courtroom was fixed. One man in the back, a few spaces down from the Warden, coughed nervously. Other than that, the room was silent. The Creature looked around nonchalantly. Everyone was nervous of that.

“And at this point, what did you do” said the judge.

“I kept on following while the School Teacher called the police sir.”

“Is this accurate School Teacher?” Asked the judge.

“Yes judge it absolutely is!” said the School Teacher. She was a short woman with long bony features and tightly curled brown hair. She spoke with extreme clarity and as her students knew very well was a fascist when it came to spelling and grammar. She continued.

“The defendant just looked at me when I asked him what he was doing and just walked away, so I ran inside and called the authorities. That was the last of it until of course now.”

“Thank you. Back to you, Farmer.” Said the judge once more. The School Teacher walked stiffly back to the pew and sat down.

“Thanks your honour. Well after the School Teacher went on inside, I just kept on following the defendant until the cops showed up.”

“Thank you Farmer.” The Farmer bowed his head and lumbered back to the pew.

“Would the Warden now take to the stand.” called the judge.

The Warden stood quickly, and walked, with his head held high, resolutely to the stand. He placed his hand on the bible, swore to the truth, adjusted his tie and turned on his heal to look at the judge.

“When you arrived on the scene, what did you see Warden?”

“Well your honour, I saw the defendant, walking along the road with the farmer. He was dressed in rags and, as The Farmer described before, looked like he’d been outside for a long time. I looked for the usual things that we look for when arresting a suspect: wallet, identification and credentials, but he had none. We were unable to gather any information about the defendant that would even set him out as a person like us as a matter of fact. He is for all intents and purposes an animal, with no ties to any institutions that we recognize here as important or credible. He is not like us and therefore, I would deem him to be a threat to the greater good and this city at large!”

At this point the entire courtroom erupted in a cacophony of shouts and applause!

“Burn it!”

“Drown it!”

“Cast it away forevermore!”

“Build a wall to keep it out!”

The crowd stood up in their pews and began moving closer to the stand. The judge slammed his gavel once again.

“Order! Order!”

The crowd was unmoved. Angry townspeople flocked towards the stand, reaching out hungrily for the Creature, shoving this way and that, attempting to get closer. The judge surveyed the room for a moment. The mob was unstoppable. He tightened his grip on the gavel and hammered for a final time.

“The Creature shall be executed in front of city hall immediately!”

The mob surged forward and grabbed the Creature, dragging it across the crest on the old hardwood floor and out into the bright light of the sun. They dragged it through the mud and rocks, along the old road until finally, they reached the square in front of city hall.

The mob, as mobs do, formed a ring and shoved the Creature into its center. It stood and looked around, searching for some sort of escape. The crowds rules didn’t make sense to it. It did not understand what it had done to deserve it’s sentence. Slowly, it’s frightened gaze found a familiar face.

The Warden, as the highest branch of law enforcement in the town, marched towards the center of the circle. He drew the old sleeping dragon from his hip and leveled its barrel at the Creature.

He stared, and the Creature stared back.

The revolver clicked as the hammer was drawn into place; cocked.

The Creature stared at the Warden.

The Warden stared at the Creature. He looked into its eyes. They were green.

The Warden blinked.

“I can’t do this.” He muttered.

“Shoot it already!” Shouted the School teacher

“If you don’t, I will” added the farmer.

The Warden swallowed and looked out at the mob. They glared back.

“Wait! We do not underst-”

The first stone struck the Warden squarely on his jaw.

The second found its place on his forehead.

The Creature was getting pelted as well. Stones rained down like hail as the townspeople grew more and more assured. Everyone from the little PaperBoy to the old Reverend were getting their part in, hurling anything from stones to pebbles to right old rocks.

The warden grasped for the pistol, which he had dropped in the chaos, but his efforts were in vain. There were too many people, and he could barely see through the thick coating of blood. He struggled to understand. These were people that he had loved, protected, cared for, served and befriended. He had been a loyal warden to this town for decades and had been as much a part of this place as the buildings and the trees. He had played his role perfectly, like an actor on stage for years. Why then, was he now dying under a barrage of pieces of the town that he had been so close to?

He had gone off script and now he was paying his dues.

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