The beast within

The creature stirred again last week. It was jittery. Unhappy. Needing fresh air. Lacking attention, food, calming strokes, it raised its gargantuan head and peered through the walls of its enclosure.

They are weak walls. Not made of brick or stone. They are walls of resolve, determination, decisions mortared together with hope and a little denial. These were the walls made to hold a creature such as this.

The beast had been still for some time. Initially it was sedated and calmed. Rocked in a cradle of soporifics. Asleep. Dormant. Drugged. And this was the best thing for the beast at the time. The walls were flimsy then. Shaky, and in places paper thin.

In time, as the fortifications grew, the beast was released from its pharmaceutical bonds. It was caressed, stroked, petted by a nervous but accepting hand. It would not attack for some time. It had made its presence known, and its guardian took the responsibility of its care very seriously. She could not amputate the beast from its enclosure, nor could she deny its existence. That creature had been born there. I t had grown in that petty coop over so many years, that parts of the beast had meshed with its confines; growing to be a part of what held it back. To destroy the beast would be to destroy the vessel it inhabited.

Its needs were minimal. It needed acknowledgement. It needed room to breathe from time to time and a safe place to cry. But above all, it needed rest. A lack of respite would disturb the creature, causing it to howl and writhe within its measly confines.

For a while its slumber was poor and disturbed. It thrashed around, unable to breathe, unable to call out for what it needed so dearly. The guardian became subdued when she realised just how large a beast was living in the confines of her paltry enclosure. "This thing," she thought, "this thing. It is so much bigger than me! So much stronger even." She collapsed a little, and with that, the creature started to devour her. First her resolve. Her determination. Her hope. Gnawing away at her, the creature grew some more. Its cage was straining beneath its heaving mass. Even splitting at places where a claw would jut through, grabbing at the things the guardian held dear.

Her energy consumed, the guardian released a slow unsteady breath. "Help!" she whispered. Her timid voice collided with an empty space and shattered into a million diamond tears which fell around her like shards of glass. Broken, she lay weeping.

The beast, partially satiated, lay quietly at her feet. She opened her eyes and breathed in. Its eyes locked onto hers, and the two of them regarded each other for some time. She pulled herself up to sitting. The creature remained still, but never broke eye contact. She put her hand out, and placed it on the creature's brow. Neither moved again for some time.

Presently she became aware of a rock beneath and behind her. It was moving. Or, rather, her fallen tears were moving towards it, sinking into it, building it up. The rock grew up alongside her, and enveloped her tired body. It held her. Strong. Steady. Solid. She breathed out and closed her eyes.

On opening her eyes, the guardian noted how much smaller the beast seemed. It had diminished in size. It seemed weaker, almost as though it were cowering. She scanned the enclosure. All the "bricks" were still there, and as she watched, the walls seemed to grow of their own accord. Only, there was more than just her own strength and hope forming the ramparts. There seemed to be little bits of rock filling the cracks in her resolve, the dents in her self-worth. 

When it was completed, the new wall was strong. Steady. Solid.