There once was a boy made of dreams and a girl made of sunshine.
Their friendship was of the variety that cannot properly be explained, only experienced. They each knew what the other was thinking without speaking. They each knew what the other one needed without asking.
It was for this reason that the sunshine girl knew exactly what the dream boy’s sigh meant before he even spoke.
“I am in love with a monster,” he confessed, staring out into the heavens through a sheet of tinted glass.
The girl made of radiance smiled, but her daffodil eyes were shining with sadness. “And how did you fall in love with a monster?” she asked.
“How does anyone fall in love with anyone?” he responded.
A question to which they both knew there was no satisfying answer. The golden girl did not bother trying to come up with one.
“But a monster cannot love,” she said instead. The boy turned his ethereal eyes towards her, all impossible ideas and mottled colors, the celestial bodies he had been admiring reflected on the surface.
He knew that she was right, of course. But that was the problem with being made up of nothing but dreams. All things seemed possible.
“You should not give a monster your heart,” the girl with sunflower skin and honeycomb hair went on. “That is what makes them monsters, you know. They devour hearts because they have none of their own. They are always trying to fill the void of their empty souls with someone else’s love, when they have nothing to give in return.”
“It said that it would love me,” the romantic boy argued. “It swore that it did feel love, for me and for me alone. That it would give me its heart just as readily as I would give it mine.”
The girl with the warm glow frowned. “And did it show you its heart?” she asked. “Did it let you see, with your own, kaleidoscope eyes, that it exists?”
They were quiet for a very long time. The dream boy’s wraithlike gaze fell to the floor.
“Are you going to give the monster your heart, anyway?”
To anyone else, he would have lied. But he could never speak anything but the truth to the girl made of sunshine.
And so the boy did as he said. He sought out the monster and surrendered his heart, basking in the beast’s beautiful words and exquisite promises like it, too, was made up of radiant light and bright beams of sunshine.
“Thank you,” the monster whispered reverently as it held the boy’s pulsing, bleeding heart in its hands.
The monster grinned, exposing a set of gleaming teeth and a flickering, black tongue. The boy made of dreams smiled back, all blue skies and wondrous hope and love, love, love.
Then the monster ate his heart.
The boy fell to ground and died with the ghost of love on his lips. The monster licked its steely fingers clean and walked away, its soul as empty as it always had been, but forgetting in that moment of vicious consumption its own hollowness. It left the shell of the boy made of dreams behind, continuing on its search for more hearts, more love, more feasts…for a monster’s hunt was never done and its hunger never slain.
The moral of this story, of course, is that you should never give away your heart to a monster with an eternal hole in its chest, no matter what dreams you may have or what beautiful lies it may feed you.
The truth, of course, is that you will do it anyway.