This is the story of Nian, the man-eating monster from China. It will be told from Nian's point of view.
Every year. Every year the burning pain of hunger would settle in my stomach. The burn tortured me every winter. It was all I truly knew.
Winter was a long, cold time. There was nothing to eat. And I was so hungry.What else could I have done? I went into a place, full of things that had sticks to walk with, just like mine. They were much smaller. I tried asking them for food. I pleaded, but they merely walked past me, by me, through, me. Anger roared inside me like a lion, and paired with the hunger, I no longer controlled my body. I leapt forward and devoured the nearest thing, who screamed in terror as he was swallowed. My stomach rumbled with relief, but yearned for more. And thus it began. More and more victims of my hunger were swallowed up. Suddenly everyone could see me, and ran away.
I sat, confused. What had I done wrong? Back then I was too little to understand that I had killed someone. I simply guessed that they were like the stars, who, every time I tried to eat, would just reappear after I had seemingly eaten them. But then I realized they didn't reappear.
'Maybe they take longer to reform', I thought, then fell asleep, content with my answer.
The next year, I saw more little "people" (the wind told me that) were there, so I guess I was right, they just take a long time to reform. This time, I ate even more, and fell asleep until summer.
This repeated and repeated and repeated. Until finally, every year I would pillage the town for food on the new year mark, and fall asleep until the next new year.
It was the new year again. All was quiet in the village. The lights were all off, and not a sound was heard. I frantically searched for food but found none, until I reached the end of the street, where an old woman lived. Licking my lips, I prepared to pounce.
Until I heard the crackling noises of firecrackers. I turned around to see a man, leaning on a sword, which was emitting these sounds.
"I am Father Time," he boomed, "And you have disturbed my holiday! Now, you shall pay!"
He attacked. I didn't know what to do, how to defend myself. So naturally, I panicked. All around the town, I ran. The menacing sound of his sword was loud in my ears. Echoes came with fresh new sounds, and crashed even louder. I wailed in fear as he advanced. When he finally struck, I saw the red running of off me. The red that hurt. The red and the loudness. Pain. I couldn't see. I fell, and then the pain of hunger came.
The woman came out.
"Thank you, O spirit husband." Then she looked to me, and tossed me a loaf of bread. I whined and whimpered as I trudged to the cave I lived in. My needs dissatisfied, and my body wounded, I lay down. Tentatively, I licked the loaf of bread. And gobbled it up. My pains continued into the night as I rested.
Every year. Every year, they use the noise and red against me, cruel reminders of that fateful night. Every year I recognize the same signs of rejection. Yet every year, the widow of Father Time leaves me a loaf of bread. The one token of kindness shown to me beside the wind. And I know, even in the pain of hunger, never to eat the so called "people" or face dire consequences.
... On that happy note, I announce, attack of the plot bunnies.
Should I continue? R&R!