On Using A Monster Creation Form For Your Writing
Ever wonder how best to keep track of your character creations?
This is a modified Monster Creation Form from Philip Athans’s excellent book, Writing Monsters. I used it when creating Lucien back in 2016 when I first came up for the idea for Parasite. Major spoilers below!
| What is it called? | L-720132-5
“Lucien” |
| What does it look like? Overall? Head, eyes, ears, nose, mouth, limbs, etc | Lucien is a hive-minded parasitic plant-human hybrid. As such, they appear as a large, genderless, amorphous mass of tissue. They can clone themselves into another brain mass or a humanoid form of any age, sex, and race. Clones possess regenerative capabilities and are host to parasites. A humanoid Lucien clone has large red eyes flecked with green. The Lucien clone featured in Parasite resembles a dark-haired, pale teenage boy. |
| What does it eat, and how does it eat? | Lucien absorbs light through photosynthesis and nutrients through parasitism. Possessing a sensitive stomach, Lucien and their clones can only orally imbibe a specially made nutrient slurry. In a pinch, Lucien can inject venom to liquify and absorb prey. |
| How does it move? | Lucien depends on humanoid clones for mobility and reproduction. Once a humanoid Lucien clone has found a suitable location for a reserve mass, it will regurgitate a parasite capable of growing into a stationary brain mass. Parasites are only able to move short distances by themselves and depend on a host or a clone. Humanoid Lucien clones are able to scale walls due to microscopic, vine-like tendrils in their skin. Lucien is highly infectious and can spread through microscopic parasites in bodily fluids. |
| Where does it come from? | L-720132-5 was genetically engineered in an unknown laboratory. |
| How big is it? | Humanoid Lucien clones tend to be of average human height. Brain masses can take up entire greenhouses and then some if given adequate time to spread. |
| How smart is it? | Lucien’s intelligence resembles that of a slightly above average human teenager. At seventeen years of age, Lucien struggles with puberty and poor impulse control. Due to an isolated upbringing, expect some emotional instability. |
| What motivates it? | L7’s are conditioned to obey their handlers. Prior versions of the L-Project were known for ‘imprinting’ on handlers, but this was discontinued after an imprinted L6 kidnapped and consumed their handler, who had been attempting to transfer departments within the lab. |
| What scares it? | After discovering horror movies, Lucien has developed an irrational fear of ghosts. |
| What hurts it? | Lucien can withstand a substantial amount of damage. Only salt water and a specially made poison dubbed ‘necrotoxin’ have proven 100% effective deterrents to Lucien’s infectious nature. |
| What senses does it possess? | Infected hosts can unwittingly relay information, including memories, back to the brain mass, but only if Lucien is concentrating on said host. |
| In what ways is it better or more powerful than the average person? | Lucien possesses regenerative capabilities, a hive-mind, and infectious parasites. They can induce hallucinations in infected humans. Infection in non-human animals is lethal. |
| In what ways is it weaker than the average person? | Lucien clones can’t swim and their brain masses are susceptible to large amounts of salt water. They depend on hosts and photosynthesis for nutrients. They dislike cold weather, and have sensitive stomachs unable to eat normal human food. Lucien is suspected to have antisocial personality disorder, amongst other psychological issues. |
What are you working on now, and when can we expect it?
I’ve got an unpublished collection of erotic horror stories revolving around queer men. So far tales include feuding conjoined twins, a resurrected witch, a vampiric grimoire, a hive-minded creature that reanimates the dead, the fountain of youth under a moldering Colorado sanitarium, and a corrupted youth minister who gets more than he bargained for after picking up a cultist. Amongst other tales!
Seventeen-year-old Jack Ives is used to being unlucky. His only friend has just moved away to college, his parents are alcoholics, and he’s relentlessly bullied by the town psychopath. All that begins to change with the arrival of a handsome but quirky new student, Lucien, who wants to be more than friends.
Their newfound happiness doesn’t last, however, as a strange new illness strikes the island. Fishermen go missing, and the villagers left behind aren’t themselves anymore. When Lucien is suspected to be the cause of the outbreak, can Jack overcome his teenage hormones and save Eldrick Isle? Will he even want to?
Warnings: Abuse, alcoholism, animal death, bullying, graphic violence/gore, guns, homophobia, misgendering
Universal Buy Link | Goodreads
Giveaway
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Excerpt
Lucien wanted to hit something. He wanted to lash out and make himself feel better by making someone else feel worse—Spencer, preferably, but Lucien was too upset even to fantasize. Something scuttled under the floorboards beneath him. Tiny claws on warped wood. A nearby hole in the floorboards… Vermin would have to do.
He brought his index finger to his mouth and bit down, worrying at the skin with his teeth until it broke. He tasted blood. The takeout bag sat beside him so he picked up a fry and, after seasoning it with blood, tossed it toward the hole. And then he waited.
A whiskered nose appeared first, followed by a furry brown face and black, beady eyes. A rat. The animal snatched the fry and disappeared back into the darkness. Lucien smirked and licked his finger clean. He absently probed the torn skin with his tongue until it was smooth again. Then he paused, momentarily forgetting about the rat. Something on his fingers tasted off.
Foreign.
Salty.
Some sort of grease.
He glanced dubiously down at the soggy french fries, holding his breath and waiting for disaster to strike. Nothing happened. His stomach rumbled. He licked his lips again. The scent of greasy, fried potatoes became too tantalizing to resist, and he reached into the bag and pulled out a fat, golden fry. He shouldn’t—years of lectures told him he shouldn’t—but a rebellion brewed deep inside him. He sniffed, and his stomach gurgled in approval.
Lucien popped the french fry into his mouth. It was cold. The texture was strange: crisp on the outside, soft on the inside. He had to chew before he could swallow. Grease coated his tongue.
His nutrient shakes were garbage.
Lucien scarfed down the entire bag of fries and then licked his fingers clean. Jack had left his milkshake behind, and Lucien drank that as well. The shake had a familiar texture, but the flavors… What would hamburgers taste like? He was going to find out.
An ear-piercing squeal erupted from beneath the floorboards. Lucien smirked into his straw and waited, listening. Judging from the sounds, more than one creature had taken his bait. The rat dragged itself out from the crevice. Little clawed toes curled in on themselves, and beady black eyes bulged out from their sockets. The bald tail became discolored, patchy and waxen. It flopped onto its side, its chest heaving madly as it labored to breathe. A black substance leaked out from its jaws, followed by a tiny, purpled tongue. It shuddered violently, and then it lay still.
Lucien didn’t notice. The paper cup crumpled in his grasp, and the remains of the strawberry shake dripped down his wrist. Behind his dry, irritating contact lenses, his pupils dilated. Lucien clutched at his belly, smearing milkshake across Jack’s borrowed shirt. It was like having shards of glass in his stomach, stabbing into his intestines. Ripping. Tearing. Sweat soaked his skin. He staggered to his feet and gagged. Waves of nausea threatened to bring him to his knees. His throat burned, and his stomach lurched.
He was going to be sick. Sick in the middle of Jack’s private sanctuary. Lucien clamped a hand over his mouth and stumbled toward the guest room. The door’s hinges screamed in protest when he fell against it. He landed heavily on his knees. The floorboards were wet and slimy, blackened with rot. They sloped toward the center of the room, where he saw the stony lip of the well peeking out from amidst the wreckage. The house was strange, but he had no time to explore, not when his stomach lining was burning its way up his esophagus.
Lucien dug his fingers into the moldering floorboards and dragged himself forward. Up close, the well stank. The putrid fumes of fetid water rising up to meet him suggested something had fallen in recently. Lucien leaned over the well’s side and vomited. The remains of french fries and strawberry milkshake hit the water below with a liquid slap. Strings of shredded tissue and dark, brackish blood soon followed.
Unbidden tears streamed down Lucien’s cheeks. He choked on a sob and then choked again as something elseslithered its way up his throat. The edge of the rotten boards gave beneath his clenched fingers, turning to splintery pulp. He tried to clamp a hand over his mouth, tried to keep it inside, but it was too late. Lucien curled in on himself, his mouth opened wide in a silent scream. His eyes rolled back behind his lids, and the world went dark.
It splattered onto the floor. It resembled a fattened leach, pulsating and slimy, and was the size of a large rat. It wriggled about, leaving behind a trail of black sludge. An alien kudzu sprung from the mess and cemented itself to the floor. Lucien opened his eyes, watching as the thing squirmed away from him. He felt a muted sense of alarm as it neared the edge. His head was foggy. He should grab it. Before it was too late, if it wasn’t too late already.
His fingertips scrabbled against the wood, mold and sludge filling the spaces beneath his nails, but his arms wouldn’t obey. He managed to brush the spongy tail of the creature before it tumbled over the edge and into the darkness below. It hit the water with a faint, echoing splash.
Lucien struggled to catch his breath. Empty and frail, his chest felt like a cage of papier-mâché. He rolled onto his back, panting. His eyes fluttered shut. Something moist crawled across his arms, up his ankles, under his jeans. It slithered through his hair. He was too tired to object. He wanted to sleep. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened if he had eaten in front of Jack. Or worse, if they had been in the middle of the crowded diner.
Inky blackness rose up to meet him, and Lucien didn’t resist.
Author Bio
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Stuart Conover is a father, husband, published author, blogger, geek, entrepreneur, horror fanatic, and runs a few websites including Horror Tree!
