The rats scurried all over the hideous monster, and as he shifted, they sprinted away leaving the giant to mourn and weep. After hours of waiting, he yawned, cracking every tight bone in his hunch. He was lonely and devastated. The poor beast of a human being had been abandoned with no one to love him, and now one hundred years later he was living in a cave.
His curved bony fingers wrapped around his beard curling it as he said to himself. “If I were normal, what would I do? If I were normal, would I have a family?” And as he wondered he realised that he was nothing but normal. He chose to be a monster; he had believed everything they had said. He slowly rose. His old, weak legs were barely enough to hold the thin skeletal body that he possessed.
He put on some music, and he danced and sang. He danced until his body slowly disintegrated leaving nothing but his old clothes and shoes. The news soon spread around the nearby town. The monster they had once feared was deceased and a young boy from the town had heard of the kind-hearted giant and had a wonderful idea.
“How about we make a memorial to remember the oddly shaped human! Someone we should have treated like our own.” The people loved the idea and they spent three days building the statue. Engraved on the plaque was a heart that chose to fly.
Three years after the Hunchback’s death, some archeologists discovered cracked bones in the cave where the hunchback had once lived. They were as delicate as a spider’s web with jagged tissue and calcium sticking out the side.
The archaeologists reported what they had found to the same town with the memorial. The town was ecstatic! They thought it was something they could use to remember the now loved beast. They placed the bones by the statue of the hunchback.
Now one thousand years later the tradition continues. Each year on the day the hunchback died there is an enormous celebration where every member of the old town bends down and prays in front of the statue of the whorshipped hunchback of Notre Dame.