The Most Beautiful Monster.

Author's Note:

This story is Fiction...or is it? I knew a guy once who told me his Wife died before any of the things that kill a relationship could grow. Her memory was so strong that he kept her alive in his head for decades. He dated but never married again. I asked him why? "Because, Kevin, no woman can compete with a ghost who was perfect. She was my Angel."

He created a Beautiful Monster from Memory. Maybe some of you have too. So is this story True...or Fiction?"

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I created the most beautiful Monster. A Monster that ate up my Present moments, stole my Future, and kept me lurking in my Past. It took me days, then weeks, then months, then years….and finally…decades. The Monster was finished. She was a beautiful creation. She started out as my first girlfriend. Moved up to my True Love. Later, my Fiancé. Then she moved on for good. I wished her well.

A few years later, I took the clay of those first few years together and started molding my Monster. I kept her youth and beauty. For all intents and purposes she never aged. I kept all the good moments too. I massaged those into the clay found only in the hormonal driven early days of Romantic Love. I kept her skin supple, her lips soft, and her voice smothered in pillow talk tones, or the angelic sound of innocent laughter. It was my Monster. I could create her in any way I wanted.

So, I did.

She never aged. She never grew frail, frumpy, or forgetful. She was always kind, caring, concerned... without a trace of rancor, ill will, or the petty moments most couples endure. I could have her be anything I wanted…except real. I could mold her, shape her, talk to her, but never ever could I hold her…except in my mind. She was a dream girl, and only in my dreams was she real.

I spent a lifetime, while creating her. A lifetime. A lifetime that took a side track that led to the tracks of “could have, should have, and would have.” And those tracks lead nowhere. Oh sure, I made her return to the dungeon of past regrets. Sometimes I locked her in there for years…just so I could be with the people who were actually in my life…and real. Like all Monsters, she found a way to surface again…and again. Sometimes for just a moment or two, she would take my hand, corralling me into jumping into the ice cold pool in her backyard.

Other times, she would lean up against me in the back seat of a car, while we quietly talked about the future. Our hands were busy wandering over buttons and zippers, clasps, releasing the pent up emotions that a well of youth spout. Other times, we walked through the snow, laughing as ice formed around our lips and eyelashes. Like most Monsters, she could lure you in before she took you over. I woke to find no snow, no frozen lips, no fluttering eyelashes. Just the detritus of imagination scattered around my floor. The Monster had been here.

Now I am old. The Monster has finally faded. Oh sure, she tries to lure me back. But I know her now. I know she isn’t real. She never was. She was a figment of my imagination. A creation so pure and loving that no real person could live up to that. I created my Monster, but I couldn’t kill her. All I could do was forget about the Past. Live in the Present. And hope that the people I Love in real life never meet the Monster I created.

So she stays locked in a tiny room in my heart. I can’t let her out. The other rooms are full of imperfect people, who love me in spite of all my flaws, shortcomings and occasional inadvertent slights. I can’t let her compete with the real humans with real feelings…and whom I can touch and interact with, but cannot bend them to my will. I am loved…and I know it.

So I know where I keep the most beautiful Monster in the World.

Where she belongs.

In my imagination.

Not my life.