WHAT'S THE FIRST thing that comes to your mind when you hear the word “monster”? Giant, repulsive, lumbering nonhuman creatures intent on destruction? That’s what most of us think of first, and yes monsters can be that, but the word monster and its etymology is complicated.

Monēre is the root of monstrum and means to warn and instruct. This benign interpretation was proposed by Saint Augustine, who saw monsters not as inherently evil but as part of the natural design of the world, deliberately created by God for His own reasons: spreading “abroad a multitude of those marvels which are called monsters, portents, prodigies, phenomena.... They say that they are called monsters, because they demonstrate or signify something; portents because they portend something, and so forth…ought to demonstrate, portend, predict that God will bring to pass what He has foretold regarding the bodies of men, no difficulty preventing Him, no law of nature prescribing to Him His limit.”

A few centuries later, the Middle English word monstre, derived from Anglo-French and the Latin monstrum, came into use, referring to an aberrant occurrence, usually biological, that was taken as a sign that something was wrong within the natural order. So abnormal animals or humans were regarded as signs or omens of impending evil. It wasn’t until the 1550s that the definition included “a person of inhuman cruelty or wickedness.”

Over time, the usages of the concept became less subtle and more extreme, so that today most people consider a monster any creature— usually found in legends, horror fiction, or movies—that is often hideous-looking and/or produces fear or physical harm by its appearance and/or its actions. The word also usually connotes something wrong or evil; a monster is generally morally objectionable, in addition to being physically or psychologically hideous and/or a freak of nature. The word is also applied figuratively to a person with an overwhelming appetite (sexual in addition to culinary) or a person who does horrible things.

Since humans began telling stories, monsters have figured in them. There’s a rich tradition of monsters in literature ranging from the Greek snake-haired Medusa and the one-eyed Cyclops to the Arabian fire demons known as Afrits and Ghuls (which became Ghouls, when Westernized). There are also Japanese fox maidens; the Mesopotamian Ekimmu, said to suck life force, energy, or sometimes, misery; the Inkanyamba, a huge carnivorous eel-like animal in the legends of the Zulu and Xhosa people of South Africa; and huge ogres that are a staple in African folktales. Bad fairies, evil witches, crafty wolves, and nasty trolls that terrorize and/or eat humans in fairy and folktales from Europe fit in perfectly with this crowd of international monsters.

What I said when I solicited stories: I am looking for unusual monster stories. Not your usual monster kills/destroys everything. The end. I also said “no human monsters.” This I did because I wasn’t looking for a host of serial killer stories. Yes, there are human monsters represented within, in that many of the characters have done or do monstrous things, but I was looking for something more. Sometimes finding a creature monstrous requires a shift in perspective. Who is the worse monster in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein? The creature abandoned to his own devices by his creator or the prideful Victor Frankenstein? Who is worse? A creature that destroys without conscious thought or those who exploit it? What are the ethics of being a vampire in a concentration camp? If a child is murderous and isn’t aware of what she is doing, is she monstrous?

In addition to new monsters, you may find yourself encountering a Lovecraftian monster or two, at least one fairy tale villain, and, yes, even a serial killer. But what’s most interesting to me as a reader, and in the stories herein, is how the humans react to the monstrosities they encounter.

So take a peek inside, and after you read the stories, you judge what or who are the monsters.

Never forget that monstrosity is in the eye of the beholder.