Monsters at New Haven

There were lots and lots of sea monsters and other kinds of mischief that holiday,

Together with “Kimberly”, “Trini” and I, we fought against “Rita” and her monsters. My little brother was obsessed with the series “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers”, which his algorithm had recommended to him on YouTube. At the seaside, we fought his creatures as a family. We had fun, but as usual, those weren’t the only monsters I had to overcome.

Moments of melancholy overwhelmed me as a daily occurrence; the cold sea splashed against my veins, bound in tight strands; the foam eroded the white, pearly flesh, leaving only bone; and the wind pushed me ominously from behind, singing melodies in my ear like a siren, rhyming with infinity and death, drifting deeper into the sea.

This Mighty Power Ranger was tired of fighting.

The moon curses beautifully here; you could see it for nights in its full glow, more gorgeous than the view from Shittown. Yet it felt worst in the evenings; I had to make time for myself, think calmly: was I bored here, and did I feel even lonelier here? My melancholy reached its climax when I watched the news and was confronted with images from yet another war in this world where people learn nothing from the past and everything repeats itself.

I left the flat. My brother and sister had already gone to their room; my parents were watching more soap opera that followed the news, to help them digest the world’s misery and watch the domestic tragedies, which in turn were supposed to distract them from their own misery.

I headed to their favourite terrace: The Compas. Off I went, with just a pen and paper to write.

For a moment, I felt happy there. The only interaction I had was with the pretty waitress; she served on the left-hand side, and that’s the side I chose. She was always friendly, probably doing a student job like many here, with short raven-black hair and deep blue eyes, which I didn’t dare to look into for long.

I lasted four nights by the sea and then decided to go home, perhaps to Rock Werchter. They let me go. Still, that brief moment of happiness on the terrace by the sea, with the waitress’s friendly smile, stayed with me. 

After some days I wanted to go back; perhaps I should get to know her better and dare, dare to ask who she is and worry less about who I am and leave the monsters alone.