MONKEY KING

MONKEY KING by PATRICIA CHAO

 

[...]

 

It’s the smell. I open my eyes to dark and there’s a change in the

air, a new body in the room. The bed sagging gently as someone sits

down.

 

In the faint light from the window I can see his outline: the long

curving torso, the bulbous head set onto a thin neck, just like

pictures in the book. There’s no tail, but I imagine it curled

underneath like a worm.

 

“Be quiet”, says Monkey King.

 

Look, Marty, I want to say, but of course Monkey King is right, I am

not allowed to talk. It would break the spell.

 

So I lie still, as still as if I were dead.

 

[...]

Done