To start any drawing, I need a blank piece of paper. To start drawing my Favorite Monster, the paper should be enormous, even though nothing is big enough to contain them. I use a pencil to outline a large circular shape. Of course, they have a head. It’s a perfectly monstrous oval head balanced on their circle body, both capacious enough to swallow me whole.
On the head, I draw a mouth and eyes. They’re all mouth and eyes, actually. Both drawn with thick lines that cross easily over the borders of the head. Almost leaving the page. Their eyes say everything. Darken and spin right before the monster bites. Curled at the corners and glittery when they’re feeling playful or loving. I make sure the iris holds tenderness and ferocity in equal measure. Their lips part to reveal a mess of teeth – sharp, cutting, unforgiving – like the words they bite out of the air and spit into my hands. Okay, they have a nose, all the better to smell me with. But it’s small. Sweet even. Like their ears.
Does my Monster have horns? Probably. But they’re pretty ones. Like an adorable woodland creature and not a demon. I draw the horns with a thin line, making them look angular like leafless tree branches. Horns that are delicate only in appearance. Eventually, my Monster will take the tip of one horn and slowly slip it into my stomach, ripping me apart. It’s not a deliberate evisceration; my Favorite Monster doesn’t know any better. How could they? Who would teach a monster to love?
My Favorite Monster’s legs are of a god if the god was a horse. They’re large and hoofed and impudent. When the monster is happy, they trot about, impish and spirited. When they don’t get their way, they stomp in childish irritation, billowing dust into the air. When they want me and I don’t come, they use those strong legs to chase me down. They kick in my door. They beat the ground till the world around us crumbles. Vases of dried lavender, over-read pages of poetry, twinkly lights fall to the ground and my Monster crushes it all beneath every insistent stamp of their hooves.
They always find me. My Favorite Monster wraps me in their arms. Arms so long they drag on the floor, sinewy with strength. One is covered in a light green fur, while the other is scaly and incandescent, like a mermaid’s tail. They are, at once, soft and hard, in the way only a monster can be. One arm holds me down, while the other cradles my head. One hand squeezes my neck, while the other slips sweetly over my nipples. One finger, wet in my mouth, shines my lips. One finger, caught in my hair, pulls lightly. One finger, pressing inside me, gentle with wanting.
My Favorite Monster growls lovingly into my mouth – Who do you belong to? I laugh, turn my face away, pretend I don’t know the answer. They lick my cheek, press their lips tight to my ears, bite off more words – Who do you belong to? My gaze is lost in theirs. My Monster’s eyes are dark, spinning, and glittery. Tender and ferocious.
Tai Farnsworth is a mixed-race, queer writer based in Los Angeles who earned her MFA in writing from Antioch University. Her work can be found in ‘The Quotable,’ ‘CutBank Literary,’ ‘The Evansville Review,’ ‘Homology Lit,’ ‘Sinister Wisdom,’ and forthcoming in ‘Drunk Monkeys.’ She’s presently shopping around her young adult book about a girl discovering her bisexuality in the wake of her boyfriend’s death. She was also a 2018 YA Mentee through We Need Diverse Books.
Visual Artist Biography
Jodie Filan was born in Saskatoon, Canada in May 1992 making her a Taurus. She is completely self-taught. Unfortunately she like many others in her community, is suffering from addiction to methamphetamine .You can find her and her art at www.facebook.com/JodieFilanArt