Today we write about: monsters of the future.
You can blame Greg for that. Or if you've already been thinking about what you would write for this prompt, then I suppose you could thank him instead. Up to you.
Had a bit of a challenging night with Max, as he was up and fussing from around 1 am until 5 am. Kat and I managed to squeeze in a nap this afternoon, so that helped, but we're hoping for an easier time tonight.
I'm not sure that we have anything planned for tomorrow. Probably forgetting something, but for now it feels pretty nice.
"I find the term monster rather irksome."
He strides back and forth before me, hands clasped behind his back. His observation was not prompted by anything I can see, but I have become used to this in the past days... or is it weeks? I think that he has entire conversations in his head that eventually seep out from between his lips. Because he is aware of all that has gone on before this point, he never feels the need to explain it to me.
That is my theory, at least.
"It is a label bandied about by simpletons too lazy to embark on a proper investigation of a man's motives and vision. My stomach turns at the mere thought of being called a monster."
My eyes track his movement, first to my left, then to my right. The room is poorly lit but the gloom is unable to conceal the mad gleam in his eyes. I am finding it difficult to remain calm.
"But surely that is how they will view me years from now, those pathetic investigators assigned to my case. Perhaps if their skulls contained even a shred of brain matter they would think otherwise. Then again... if that were the case, I would likely be behind bars now and you, dear sir, would be out walking the world a free man. Don't you think?"
I remain silent. The duct tape pressed against my mouth makes sure of that.
"No, you are quite correct... it matters not. They are fools, so here we are. And here we shall remain, until I decide otherwise."
He stops suddenly before approaching me with quick, soft steps. A quizzical tilt of his head, a ghost of a smile.
"I'm sorry, did I dash your hopes? I had no idea that you were still holding on to any! Well then, let me be perfectly clear: you are mine to do with as I please, Mr. President. The Secret Service have absolutely no idea where you are."