Made of Stone

In the city of Paris stands the grand cathedral of Notre Dame. Its bells ring out to the whole city, some calling it the heart of the city. It is a site that Persians love. But long ago it was witness to the horrors of a man and a monster.

In the bell tower Quasimodo sat, his feet chained, but they might as well not have been. He sat there, looking at the floor with his one good eye. He breathed in but wished he didn't. The moon was high in the sky, a moon that he had often looked at and marveled, except for tonight. He had dreamed for all his years about leaving this safety of his sanctuary, but what good did that do him? Quasimodo sat there silent as the night crawled onward. Not one word did he speak. No movement did he make. He just waited for the dawn to come. The dawn that would bring the burning of Esmeralda. And he led his master right to them. It was all his fault.

He remembered as he revealed to Captain Phoebus DeMartan the location of the Court of Miracles. It was the necklace that Esmeralda gave him. It showed the location of the court from the eyes of one who was on top of the world. His eyes. But he didn't realize that he was being followed. When he got to the court, the gypsies gave him and the captain a trial for being spies. They were found guilty, and they were about to hang the two of them when Esmeralda saved them. Soon the soldiers rushed in and arrested everyone. Archdeacon Frollo stood there with a wicked smile on his face.

"Master please." Quasimodo plead in his monstrous voice. Frollo glared at him, and Quasimodo slinked back, unable to look at him. Those iron chain of his glare were stronger than the chains that held him now. They were the same eyes he saw during the festival of fools. That same look that all those Persians gave him. That look of disgust. There was a bowl of water at his feet. He looked at his reflection and saw those same eyes looking right back at him. He could live with the looks everyone gave him. The hatred they had for him because none of them could hate him more than he hated himself. He was nothing more than a monster. And he would suffer the fates of all monsters. He couldn't hear the voices of Phoebus of Esmeralda. He didn't want to.

To think that just a few days ago he sang about how he just wanted one day out there in the world. He got that day, and it was hell. He finally learned why he was always kept in the bell tower. Whatever he does leads only to things getting worse. He met Esmeralda the only person ever to look at him without being afraid. He convinced himself that maybe she could stay here at the top of the bell tower forever. But he could not fool himself. He thought that he saw heaven's light, the light that he saw so much whenever he saw a pair of lovers walking down the streets. But he knew that light wasn't for him. But he convinced himself, fooled himself that maybe, just maybe he could see the light through her. She was an angel who looked down at him with kindness, but it was never meant to be. She loved the captain.

He learned that no love could be returned to him. That he was born to be alone forever. He pretended not to care. He pretended that he was fine knowing his face was laughable and ugly. He knew that he was nothing more than a monster who destroyed everything he touched. He was a fool to believe that he could have love. Why did he let himself believe even for a moment that there was more behind the face of the monster he was? He knew it was better to have a heart made of stone, than to be who he was.

He heard the statues of the saints move again. He dared not to look at them.

"Quasimodo, you must try to free yourself." One of them said.

"You got to free yourself."

Those words were repeated not so long ago.

"You have to save her." They said

"Save her, me?" He responded back. They convinced him he was going to be an angel, just like the one who warned Joseph to flee to Egypt. Lies. He was no angel; he was a demon given human form.

"Quiet, go away." He commanded. He couldn't be hurt if they didn't talk to him.

"You're the only one who can save her now." The saints plead.

"You know what happens when I try to help. I only make things worse." Quasimodo let out the last part with a pathetic cry. He felt his eye become wet with tears. He just had to ignore the saints. He could do it. He saw the glare of his master.

"You don't believe that." They all cried out to him. That was all it took. He stared to breath heavily, then he looked at them. Anger filled him.

"How do you know what I believe?" They backed up. "What do you know of me?"

One of them started to speak up, but he cut them off. He spent all these years having them tell him that he wasn't a monster, and that led him to delusion, and to all the pains he had to face. Those evil Parisians hoards of those wicked monsters who tormented him. To disobeying his master and letting open his heart only for it to be crushed.

"What do you know of all the things I feel? Your only made of stone!" He let out a monstrous roar that shook them. His voice that could be so soft had lost the right to hide the truth of him. He was nothing more than a monster. He was born a monster and will die a monster. There was no space in heaven for a monster like him. They just used him as a plaything until now. He finally realized that all these years he was being feed warm lies instead of the cold truth. His deformed face, and his hunchback were proof to all the world and to heaven that he was a monster. His own parents ABANDONED HIM because he was a monster.

"Who is it that you see, instead of seeing what I am for real? This twisted flesh and bone!" His cry was shaky, with rage and sadness mixing in his voice to create a sound that was harsh to his ears. He looked at all the saints.

"Quasimodo it wasn't your fault." One of them cried out. The lie was so blatant that he could barely hold from shouting to the heavens a curse.

"YOU'RE A LIAR!" He cried out, the tears falling from his disformed face. They tried to rebut him, but he wouldn't allow it.

"With every new excuse you try out it only makes me want to cry out that I were made of stone like you!" He pointed out to all the lying saints that were looking at him. He waited for them to rebut him.

"You don't believe that." But he did. He knew it was all his fault that the only good person to walk the earth was about to be burned in a pyre at the base of Notre Dame once the sun came up. He knew it was because of him that Phoebus was rotting in a cell and that Esmeralda was being readied to be burned. There was no one else who it could have been besides him.

"You just need to take some time to-"

"You give such good advice so why has not one single word you've said been any help at all!" He felt all his self-hatred come out in his words. He let every dark feeling that he had come out of him all at once.

"Quasimodo" They all cried out to him. He clenched his fists and raised them at the skies.

"And you who sound so nice the more that your hopes and fancies fill my head the farther that I fall!" They told him that he was no monster, but he was. He always the dark demon that everyone feared he was. There was nothing good about him. They told him that he was worth something. That he wasn't a monster, and that he could be more than his master said he was. His mind had played tricks on him letting him believe that maybe, just maybe he could listen to what they were saying. They made him believe that the world wasn't the dark place it was. They told him that the world out there was a loving warm place, but if it was, he couldn't find it. They told him that maybe heaven had a place for him, but he knew the foolishness of it all. He was the monster that they all feared he was.

"Shut my brain down. If I were senseless, I'd prefer it, another gargoyle on this turret spitting rain down to the stones below!" He bellowed out. This time he let out all he had in him. He slammed the ground where he left a mark. The tears fell from his face onto his monstrous hands. He looked at them and breathed heavily. There was nothing else he could do. He felt the chains on his feet. He felt the chains of his heart tighten around him. He wished that they would crush his heart so that he didn't have to live another moment.

"I've wasted my faith believing in saints of plaster, when the only one I should have believed in was my master!" Frollo took care of him. There was no love from the Archdeacon, but he did one thing that not even the saints could do.

"He's the one who never lied. He told me it was cruel outside. He told me how I had to hide." Frollo was the only one who never lied to him. The saints always lied to him. Frollo told him about reality while the saints only told him about fancies. Frollo hid Quasimodo. The saints made him go to the people. His tears were overflowing now.

"His words were cold as stone. But they were true." He said. He looked at the saints again and anger filled him.

"No like you."

They looked at him, with only pity in their eyes. He didn't need their pity. He didn't need pity at all. He felt the anger that had left only a moment ago fill him again. His fists began to shake. He clenched his teeth and looked at the saints again.

"Take all the dreams you've sown, take all your lies and leave me ALONE!" He yelled out. He let out the last of his emotions and was left gasping on the ground his lungs trying to fill with air. His face fell to the ground. His hair was brushing the ground, and he sat there in silence for a few moments. He caught his breath and looked up at the saints.

"All right Quasimodo, we'll leave you alone." One of them turned away from him, changing back into the statue.

"All right Quasimodo we'll trouble you no longer." Another turned from him.

"You're right Quasimodo, we're only made of stone." They all looked at him.

"We just thought that you were made of something stronger." They cried out to him. He dared not look at them as they all turned back and changed back into the stone statues they once were. He looked back in the water and saw his face once more. The monster looked back at him. He looked at the half of his face that was the monster. He grabbed a handful of water threw it at his face. He scrubbed his face hard and went to look back at the water. His face was still that of a monster. There was nothing to be done about it. Despite all he wanted to do was tear his face off. He could imagine ripping his face off to reveal the face of a regular man. He could imagine him taking off all his abnormalities and becoming the man he once thought he could be. But he had to face the truth.

He was a monster.

"And now I'm on my own. Never again to wonder what's out there." He remembered him singing all about how all he wanted was one day out there. And a lot of good it got him.

"Let it remain unknown! And my one human eye will ever more be dry till the day I die!" He started to scream to the world.

"As if I were made of STONE!"

He plunged to the floor, where he would remain until the morning. Then he would become the gargoyle watching over Notre Dame forever.