The Naming

The night was warm and still. I walked a deserted street, carrying with me a red book; a French-English dictionary. This volume was not for reference, as I have never successfully commanded the French language. Rather, I was transporting the book to my home, where it would be used to repair a wobbly table.

Very suddenly and without warning, a monster leapt from the ditch and into my path. He had matted hair and long, sharp teeth, which flashed at me as he spoke.

“You,” growled the monster, pointing hungrily at me with a clawed finger.

“Me?” I asked nervously, which was silly of me to say, since I have already explained that the road upon which I travelled was deserted.

“Yes…you,” said the monster. “I am going to eat your flesh and floss my teeth with your hair.”

I gulped and clutched the dictionary close to my chest.

“Unless…” continued the monster. “Unless you can name me.”

“Name you?” I asked incredulously. “You mean if I guess your name correctly, you won’t devour me?”

“That’s right,” replied the monster, taking a step closer to me. He smelled of dirt and blood. “Name me and you will have nothing to fear.”

Stifling panic scratched at my face. How could I possibly guess this monster’s name? There must be hundreds of monster names…maybe even thousands!

“And what if I guess wrong?” I asked the monster. His answer was a grin full of cruel teeth.

I attempted to suppress a shudder. The chances of guessing the monster’s name correctly seemed astronomical. I would surely die if I did not concoct a scheme for escape. However, the monster was one step ahead of me.

“Don’t think that you’ll outsmart me, boy. You may think yourself clever, but believe me, I am more so.”

“But I’m very quick,” I replied. I was rapidly gaining confidence in the face of such a grim situation. “I’m much quicker than I am clever. I could run from you.” It was true, the monster was terrifying and imposing, but he was also very big; too big to be very quick.

“You can’t escape me,” said the monster, shaking his massive head. “Even if you did manage to escape me this night, I would find you, and I would tear you apart. I would never stop chasing you. If it took me all your life, I would eventually find you.”

This option did not seem much more promising than guessing the monster’s name. In fact, it seemed much less promising. What sort of life could I live if I was forever running from this beast? I resolved, therefore, to name the monster; to face my foe and not live in fear.

Then, hardly knowing what I was doing or why I was doing it, I opened the dictionary I was still holding. I turned to page two hundred and forty three and said aloud the first word that I saw.

“D-Doute,” I said, willing my voice to be steady and brave. “That is your name. You are Doute.”

A moment passed and neither I nor the monster moved. Then, with one last angry growl, the monster lumbered back into the ditch and disappeared into the dark night.

I had done it! I had named my enemy, and in doing so, chased him away. Happily I made my way home, noticing much more keenly how particularly fine the summer air tasted. That night I slept peacefully in my bed, without fear, knowing that I would never again have anything to fear from Doute.