Monkey Boy

A short story I wrote.

William Earlington was dumbfounded. He'd had no idea. None whatsoever that an innocent genetics test could lead to this.

He'd gotten the cursed news in a standard, dooming manila envelope that morning. With steady hands that would soon be shaky and uncontrollable, he'd known for the first time in his life who his father was.

Growing up, Will had imagined the absent man to be tall, proud, and powerful. If he were there, he'd protect Will from all of the bullies in his life who'd made fun of him for his height, hunched back, and excessive facial hair. He'd take Will onto his inviting lap and tell him all sorts of wonderful stories of his own childhood, when he had met William's mother, and how he loved his son so very, very much.

William's father was not that man. William's father was an ape.

A Bonobo, to be specific, living in a dingy, run down zoo not far from William's house. At least, he was living there. He was probably dead by now.

William glared down at his misshapen, hairy hands. They were bigger than normal people's, and the fingers flexible and curved inwards. He'd hated them his whole life. Now the tears were threatening to overflow and run down his face like a cascading waterfall, but he blinked hard and turned away. He was going to write to his mother and get to the bottom of this.

As he wrote furiously, Will thought of his previous perception of himself. He always thought of himself as human. There was never something inside of him, there was nothing instinctual, to tell him otherwise.

Something struck him like thunder suddenly, and William felt faint. He wasn't fully human, so did that mean he didn't even have a soul? He had always been extremely religious. Sometimes it felt like God was his only friend, like he was the only one he could turn to. What if God, his one supporter, didn't accept him anymore? What then?

You decide.