The Ugly Love of Monster Girls

When I first opened my eyes to this world, I knew two things.

One: I had been reborn.

Two: This world was nothing like Earth.

I don’t mean that in the poetic, “life is strange” kind of way. I meant it literally, “my mother has moth wings and antennae” kind of way.

As I kneaded dough on the worn wooden counter, the fragmented memories from Earth resurfaced. They were fragmented, disorienting… just the idea of waking up in a place so alien yet still feeling so oddly... at home.

“Markus, could you stop daydreaming and focus,” my mother’s voice called out, pulling me back to the present.

She was attractive in a way that felt almost otherworldly. Which was appropriate given the circumstances.

Cassandra’s snow-white hair shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, falling like soft waves over her shoulders.

Her moth-like wings, delicate and translucent, rested gracefully against her back, as the antennae on her head twitched faintly as she worked.

“Sorry mom,” I said, grinning as I got my hands back to work. “I’m focusing. See?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a slight warmth in her words which made it hard to take her scolding too seriously.

Just as I was starting to get into rhythm, a small but telltale pitter-patter of steps came from behind me.

“Markus!”

I barely had time to brace myself before a tiny figure barreled into my side, clinging to me like her life depended on it.

“Nora,” I said, laughing as I glanced down at my little sister. “You’re up early.”

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” she said, her voice muffled against my shirt.

I crouched down to her level, ruffling her messy white hair that gave her a wild, untamed look.

Like our mother, Nora had moth wings and antennae, though hers twitched constantly, as if she were still learning how to use them.

“You’re supposed to wake me up,” she added, pouting as she tightened her grip.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, lifting her into my arms. “Next time, I’ll wake you up before I even brush my teeth. How’s that?”

Her pout turned into a grin, and she buried her face in my shoulder. “Good. You better.”

Nora was clingy in the way only a little sister could be. She practically lived for my attention, and I couldn’t bring myself to deny her.

“You’re getting flour all over your clothes, you know,” I teased, pointing to the streaks of white now covering her dress.

“You’re the messy one,” she shot back, giggling.

“Oh, really?” I poked her nose, making her laugh even harder.

Cassandra glanced over at us, shaking her head with a smile. “Markus, you’re going to spoil her rotten.”

“Isn’t that my job?” I said, grinning as Nora nestled closer.

My sister let out a happy hum, her wings twitching against my arm. “I’m never letting go,” she mumbled, half-asleep already.

“Good,” I said softly. “You don’t have to.”

The peaceful moment didn’t last long. The heavy creak of the front door announced the arrival of another presence, one that filled the room with a grounded, steady energy.

“Morning, everyone.”

My father’s deep voice carried effortlessly over the clatter of kitchen sounds. I turned to see him ducking slightly to fit through the doorway, his towering frame an imposing yet familiar sight.

Unlike my mother and Nora, whose features were delicate and ethereal, my father, Dorian, was rugged, almost primal.

His ears, wide and furred like an impala’s, twitched in tandem with his movements, and his sharp brown eyes scanned the room with an ease that suggested he missed nothing.

A pair of small, curved horns sprouted from his forehead, their dark surface catching the morning light.

“Good morning, Dad,” I said, watching as he set down the basket of freshly gathered wood by the door. His brown hair, tousled from the wind, matched the rich, earthy tones of his horns.

Nora perked up at his arrival, her wings fluttering excitedly. “Papa!” she called, wriggling out of my arms to rush toward him.

Dorian crouched just in time to catch her, hoisting her up as if she weighed nothing. “Well, good morning to you too, my little troublemaker,” he said, his tone as warm as the smile that spread across his face.

As he held her, his brow furrowed slightly. “Nora, why are you covered in flour?”

Without missing a beat, Nora pointed at me dramatically. “Markus was messy!”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “Me? You’re the one who tackled me while I was working.”

Nora gasped, clutching her chest as if I’d just accused her of some terrible crime. “That’s not true! You got flour on me first!”

Dorian chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. “I see. So it’s Markus’ fault, is it?”

“Yes!” Nora exclaimed, nodding vigorously. “He even poked my nose!”

“Oh no,” I said, feigning shock. “Not the nose poke. How could I?”

Nora buried her face against Dorian’s chest, giggling as her wings twitched. My father ruffled her hair, shaking his head with a grin. “Sounds like Markus needs to learn how to keep his flour to himself.”

“Or maybe Nora needs to stay out of the kitchen,” I shot back, smirking.

“Never!” Nora declared, peeking up at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“She’s got you there,” Dorian said, setting her back down on the floor. “You know she’s going to keep finding excuses to follow you around.”

“Of course she will,” Cassandra chimed in softly, her antennae twitching as she glanced over her shoulder at me. “After all, you’re the one who always indulges her, Markus.”

Her pale, shimmering eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary, a look I couldn’t quite decipher but had grown familiar with over the years.

I simply shrugged at them, smiling as Nora stuck her tongue out at me.

“It’s Markus’s fault,” she quipped.

Watching them interact with each other always brought a strange pang of emotion. Not envy or resentment, nothing like that.

It was more of a quiet wonder at how natural it all felt. Even though, by all accounts, I didn’t belong here.

Unlike everyone else in my family, I had no animalistic features. No wings, no antennae, no horns, no fur. Just plain human, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.

It was almost laughable how out of place I looked among them, like a misstep in the natural order of things.

By all logic, I was probably adopted. But if that were true, no one had ever said it outright.

“Markus,” my father said, snapping me out of my thoughts. His tone was softer now, more serious. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

“What look?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“The one that says you’re overthinking,” he replied, crossing the room to stand beside me.

He placed a firm hand on my shoulder, his grip steadying. “Whatever’s going through your head, let it go. Loosen your shoulders, young man. You’re too young to start having creases on your forehead.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Nora wrapped herself around my leg, her tiny wings flapping as if to anchor me.

“Don’t think too much,” she said, her voice muffled against my clothes. “You’re my big brother forever.”

It was such a simple statement, but it hit me harder than I expected. As if she knew the troubles going through my mind. I crouched down, pulling her into a hug.

“Thanks, Nora,” I said quietly.

My father nodded, satisfied, before turning his attention to my mother. “Anything I can help with, Cassandra?”

“You can help Markus finish the bread,” she replied, her antennae twitching as she turned back to the stove. “He’s been distracted enough as it is.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, alright. Back to work, I guess.”

As I turned to knead the dough again, I felt a warmth settle in my chest. Whether or not I had been born into this family didn’t matter. They had made me theirs, in every way that counted.

As the sunlight filled the room, painting everything in warm, golden hues, I found myself smiling. This world, with all its strangeness, had become my reality. My family was here, and for the first time since I opened my eyes in this life, I felt like I belonged.

If only I knew how wrong I was…