Jitters 's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Jitters needed to learn what other monsters actually wanted from a healing center. His napkin sketches showed what he imagined, but he'd never asked anyone else. The next morning, he set up outside the general store with a wooden crate and a sign that read "Free Coffee - Share Your Story." Monsters shuffled past him at first, suspicious of his flame-topped head and sharp grin. But one elderly creature with six eyes finally sat down. She told him about her grandson who couldn't control his roar and had nowhere to go for help. Jitters scribbled notes on a fresh napkin while pouring her a cup. By afternoon, five more monsters had stopped. Each one described what they needed: affordable care, late-night hours, someone who understood. Jitters filled napkin after napkin with their words. His dream was becoming something bigger than his own anger now. The next step was finding someone who actually knew how to help troubled monsters. Jitters had anger, ambition, and a pile of napkins—but no training. He asked around until someone mentioned a small cottage where an old counselor taught basic support skills. The building had clay walls and a thatched roof that sagged in the middle. Inside, three other monsters sat on wooden benches, notebooks in their laps. The instructor talked about listening without judgment and recognizing when someone needed more help than you could give. Jitters took notes until his claws cramped. This was harder than he'd expected, but he showed up twice a week anyway. While studying, Jitters started testing ideas from his napkin pile. He set up a circle of stumps and logs near the edge of town where monsters could sit around a small fire. He invited the six-eyed grandmother and a few others who'd shared their stories with him. They talked while flames crackled between them, and Jitters practiced the listening skills he'd learned. He also brought a large clay urn filled with water for monsters to wash their hands or faces—something the instructor said helped people feel grounded during difficult conversations. The gatherings were awkward at first, but monsters kept coming back. By the end of the month, Jitters had filled a notebook with what he'd learned and hosted four campfire sessions. His pockets were still empty and the council still avoided him, but he understood his dream better now. The healing center wasn't just about having the right building or the perfect sign. It was about creating a space where monsters felt safe enough to talk and someone trained enough to listen. He had a long way to go, but the path was clearer than it had been on those council steps with a scrub brush in his paw.