THIRD PLACE SUDDEN FICTION
DOORWAY MONSTER DANA OSTROWSKI
I move from door to door ringing bells, knocking on wood, and always, always hoping for once somebody will give me the time of day. I cannot begin to tell you how many times a door has been carelessly slammed in my face and how many window’s eyes have dropped the blinds down once they see me. By far the worst is when they actually open the door and tell me to kindly be on my way. It gives me hope and that is cruel. So am I monster? Or some sort of apparition? Perhaps I’m death itself come to collect upon their souls? I find myself almost wishing that were the case! Then at least it'd make sense. Then I could forgive, forget and be on my merry way… but no. No I am but your average ignored door-to-door salesman. Over these years I feel like I have transcended my human form to become this other wandering creature that feeds upon housewives, steals children in the night and tricks innocents. A being that subsists on the broken dreams and financial dependence of middle class suburbia. A most delicious meal fit for a monster that lurks in the shadows and slides paper thin through doorways. It's a sad life being a monster, or rather slowly become this inhuman thing people see me as. Their stares sear me and I feel my flesh start to pucker. I should be growing fangs and scales any day now. Really and truly I should. I am well aware how I manipulate people into buying my wares. I am aware but I cannot afford regret. I cannot afford to stop and I trod on and on from one door to the next. All I can do is try not to scuff their front step with the massive clawed toes that protrude from my polished shoes. I sigh. Dana Ostrowski
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