Man eating F*cks: Man Eating F*cks, #1

By David Owain Hughes

A dark, incredibly entertaining excursion into the delightfully twisted imagination of David Owain Hughes....

An average teenage girl and her father find themselves caught up in a brutal nightmare at their local recreational centre, when an age-old enemy comes stumbling out of the woods to crash a heavy-metal gig; a gig that has all the promises of being killer. This is one blood-soaked gig you won't want to miss!

Praise for Man-Eating F*cks from Ty Schwamberger (author of The Fields, Deep Dark Woods & The Death of a Horror Writer.)

"Man Eating F*cks is old school horror, but with a new, blood-soaked twist! David Owain Hughes effectively creates enjoyable and lethal characters in this tale that is sure to keep you up at night. This is the type of tale that you need to read with a light on…I'm serious. You better put your seatbelt on 'cause you're in for one helluva ride. Look out, Hughes might very well be headed to the major leagues after this twisted tale! Highly recommended!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: HellBound Books Publishing LLC
• Release date: Dec 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386636977

David Owain Hughes

David Owain Hughes is a horror freak! He grew up on ninja, pirate and horror movies from the age of five, which helped rapidly install in him a vivid imagination. When he grows up, he wishes to be a serial killer, with a part-time job in women’s lingerie...He’s had several short stories published in various online magazines and anthologies, along with articles, reviews and interviews. He’s written for This Is Horror, Blood Magazine and Horror Geeks Magazine. In February 2014, his first novel, Walled In, was published. After discovering Richard Laymon, David set out on a path to become the best writer he could, holding a BA and MA in creative writing.

Book preview

Also by David Owain Hughes

Novels, Novellas and Short Story Collections:

All-Wound Up

Wind-Up Toy

Wind-Up Toy: Broken Plaything

Wind-Up Toy: Chaos Rising

White Walls and Straitjackets

Escapees and Fevered Minds

Choice Cuts

Walled In

Man-Eating Fuckers

The Rack & Cue

Collision Course

Granville

Home Improvements

Puckered

Anthologies:

Shadows and Teeth Vol.3

Trapped Within

Hell of a Guy

Unleashing the Voices

Rejected for Content Vol. 4, 5 & 6

Crossroads in the Dark Vol.1 & 2

Fifty Shades of Slay

How to Cook a Baby

Madame Movora’s Tales of Terror

Big Book of Bootleg Horror Vol. 1, 2 & 3

Shopping List

Depraved Desires

Easter Eggs and Bunny Boilers

Bah! Humbug!

Slashing Through the Snow

VS Vol. 1 & 2

Black Candy

Into the Abyss

Compiled & Edited Anthologies:

What Goes Around

Man Behind the Mask

Fuck the Rules

Man Eating F*cks

A HellBound Books Publishing LLC Book

Houston TX

Chapter 1

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Storm lay on her bed with Alice Cooper dressed in leather garb with a yellow constrictor around his neck, a foot-long cane in his left hand, and in the right, his top hat. Next to him, the line-up from Iron Maiden with Eddie, the band’s evil-looking mascot, in the background.

The Welsh flag was pinned to the back of her bedroom door. On Storm’s bookshelf was a scant line-up of paperbacks, mostly Stephen King and Richard Laymon, their spines busted from wear and tear, a framed photo of her and her father outside the fair at Porthcawl Pleasure Beach, and her CD player.  

Storm flipped onto her stomach, and hung her arms over the side of the bed as she kicked her skinny legs to the energetic song that pumped out of her music system. Noticing a white envelope on the floor, she reached down and took out the tickets for tonight’s gig at the recreational centre in Pontycymer, Bridgend. 665: The Neighbour of the Beast, a tribute act to Iron Maiden, were playing there supported by a local punk band called Raining Spears. Storm had dated the drummer of the Spears for a little over four weeks the previous summer. He’d finished it when he had realised he wasn’t going to get into her knickers as fast as he’d hoped. He was nothing more than a dick, and her father had been pleased to have seen the back of Scuzz, with his punk image, and purple nail varnish.

Storm looked at the tickets and smiled. It was going to be the first time in ages that she and her dad had done something together; him being a police officer meant that they shared little time together. By the time Storm got in from college her dad was leaving for his evening shift, and when she was leaving for college in the morning, he was going to bed. That’s how they’d lived ever since Storm’s mother had walked out on them twelve years ago, when Storm had been a child of six, with Huw’s father caring for Storm until she was old enough to look after herself.

Her father had been broken hearted, but he’d managed to keep it together for them. Storm hated her mother for breaking her father’s heart. She may have only been young, but she knew what had been going on. Nobody knew where she had gone, or if there had been someone else, just a letter she had left, explaining very little.

Dear Huw,

I have to leave. It’s not you, it’s me. My spirit feels trapped, and I need to be free, so that I can find myself. I feel I have a calling, and I need to fly, like that trapped bird in a cage. I hope you understand. All my love, Skye.   

Her father had binned the letter shortly after reading it, but Storm had fished it out, and kept it in her bedside drawer. At first she had missed her mother, and the words on the page hurt, but over time, her sadness turned to anger, and now she read it to keep her hatred stoked.

Highway to Hell came on the CD player, one of Storm’s favourites, and she leapt off the bed and started to air guitar along to the thunder beat of the track. She pretended she was Angus Young, and pranced around her room. Her long, black and purple hair jumped and swished with her frantic movements, and the T-shirt she wore, which was her dad’s, rode up her legs, exposing the tops of her thighs.

Just over the song, Storm caught the sound of the phone ringing downstairs.

Shit.

She rushed out of her room, bounded down the stairs, and picked it up.

Hello, the Adams’ household, Wednesday speaking? she said, putting on a mock Count Dracula voice.

Always with the wisecracks, hey? You been air guitaring again, ain’t you, beauty?

Daddy!

Listen, he sighed.  Sorry Storm, but I’m going to have to work on tonight, and I may not be able to make it in time for the show.

Dad, she said sulkily. You told me that you’d told them you couldn’t work overtime today.

I know, I know. But things are not that simple in the real world, beauty. Things change.

So what’s wrong, huh? Some old budge’s cat stuck up a tree? Call the fire brigade.

Huh, you are funny, he said, laughing. We don’t know the full story yet, but there’s been a few savage attacks in the surrounding areas, some close to Pontycymer, with a few fatalities. I can’t really go into much detail...

"Yeah, I know – procedure."

Look, I really don’t think you should go alone tonight. I want you to stay at home. I’ll try and make it back as early as I can and we can go together. Okay?

He heard her sigh first, then she said, But I’ll be fine to go down there on my own until you arrive. A few of the girls I know are going, and they will be with their boyfriends.

That’s a maybe, but I still don’t want you going without me.

Dad, I’m eighteen, not a child, she kept calm.

I don’t care, I’m your father, and I want to know you are safe, please Storm, for your dad, yeah?

Guess so, she sighed, but you’re going to owe me big time for this.

Yes, I will, beauty. Promise me you won’t go to the centre without me, Storm. There’s something weird going on, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.

Dad, you know I’d never go against your word.

"Promise me though?

She hesitated...

Storm?

Then she heard a man’s voice boom in the background on her father’s side.

"I didn’t do fuck all, you fucking pigs. Get these fucking bracelets off me, cunts!"

Sorry Storm, but I’m going to have to go. I’ll get home as fast as I can, I swear.

Before she could say anything else, the phone line went dead. She replaced the receiver in its cradle.

She smiled naughtily, and said, Okay dad, but I’m not missing tonight’s show for anything. I guess I’ll just have to see you there...

Chapter 2

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Bleddyn powered the car around the bendy mountain roads that led from Ogmore Vale, over to Blaengarw, Bridgend. The sun was strong in the sky and ten minutes had gone by since a car had passed them. Claire, his fiancée, sat in the passenger’s seat, whilst their two-year-old son, Ioan, cooed and chattered to himself in his car seat.

Claire placed her hand on Bleddyn’s, which was resting on the gearstick. He glanced over to her, not wanting to take his eyes off the road for too long, even though it was dead.

Thanks for a lovely day, she said.

He smiled. That’s okay, stroking her hand the best he could with his. Did you like the coat I bought you, then?

Yeah, you know I do, babe. I’m going to wear it to Sam’s twenty-first on Saturday night.

Sam Morgans? he asked.

Yep, she said. She’s having a party in The Welcome for it.

Sam Morgans is twenty-one?!

Yeah, you seem shocked?

Well aye, I am.

Why, then?

He could feel Claire’s eyes burning into him; a smirk crept across his face – he loved winding her up, especially about Sam, who was her best friend.

Well, she needs to start acting it first, don’t you think? he said, almost laughing.

"Tut, you can be such a dickhead on times, aye!"

Shh, not in front of Ioan...

I don’t care. Why do you always have to go and spoil a good day, hmm? she said. He didn’t need to look at her to know that she was furious.

Look, I’m sorry I was only teasing.

She pulled her hand away from his with force, and turned to look out her window. They had only just started to climb the snaky mountain road, but already they were above the valley town of Ogmore. The lush green foliage of the forest ranges was clear, along with the rows and rows of terraced houses and scantly placed pubs.

Too many times you ‘only tease’, she said, making quotation marks with her fingers. Why have you got to be a prick about Sam all the time?  

Don’t swear like that in front of our son, please, he said, looking at her. She was scowling. He couldn’t help but smile. Come on, I said sorry... So she’s having her party in The Welcome, you said? Not my cup of tea, that place.

Why? she asked.

Just a bit on the rough side.

Is it?

Aye, Carwyn Owain was stabbed on the dance floor not two weeks ago.

Is he okay?

Barely. He suffered with a collapsed lung.

Dad! Ioan called, a brightly coloured brick came flying from behind, clicking off the windscreen and onto Bleddyn’s lap.

Bleddyn applied the brakes gently, made sure nothing was coming, and turned around to his son, who smiled and chuckled. His hair a shock of blond curls, and his eyes a sharp, ice blue. It was hard to be mad at him, Bleddyn thought, tossing the brick onto the backseat for Ioan.

Dad! the child shouted, Dad, Dad, Dad! he repeated.

Yes? Bleddyn said, facing front and getting them moving again.

Ice-cream! the tot demanded.

Maybe we could stop at the Co-op? Claire offered.

Yeah, Bleddyn said. We could pick up some Ben and Jerry.

Agreed, she said, a small titter escaping her. Bleddyn looked over at her, catching the tail end of her laugh. He loved the way she looked when she laughed: the way in which dimples appeared in her cheeks and her nose scrunched up. So cute, he thought. He swore that was what attracted him to her in the first place – that smile and laugh.

Cookie Dough? he asked, knowing it was her favourite.

Mmm, oh yeah, she said, licking her lips. She flipped down the vanity mirror and looked into her son’s gorgeous eyes. Cookie Dough! she exclaimed. Mmmmm! she continued. This provoked a screech-like laugh from the youngster. Me Cookie Monster. Me likey Cookies! Claire growled in the mirror, making her son shriek with laughter, as she twisted her face into a mock-evil look.

Bleddyn also erupted with laughter at Claire’s silly antics and Ioan’s joyful screams. Are you sure you’re not more of a Chunky Monkey? Bleddyn asked Claire, pinching her side.    

Oi, Claire said, chuckling. There’s nothing chunky about me, boyo.

I was talking about the ice-cream flavour, he said, grinning madly.

Ioan continued to giggle as he watched his parents engage in banter.

Ugh, I hate banana flavour, and you know it! You sure you weren’t making a reference towards me with the chunky?

Bleddyn stared hard out the front window, gripping the steering wheel with ever increasing force. His cheeks turned red and ballooned as he fought to restrain his laughter.

Claire jabbed her fingers into his ribs, making Bleddyn’s mouth explode open with laughter.

Okay, okay, I give in, I give in!

So the chunky remark aimed at me? That’s going to cost you!

How much? he asked.

Currency won’t buy you out of this one, matey.

Oh, what will? he asked. His hand went from the gear stick to her jeaned thigh. She was chunky, he wasn’t lying – but it was sexy. His fingers crept up her inner thigh, almost reaching Claire’s crotch, before his hand was smacked away.

"Perv, she said, with an even face. He knew she was dying to laugh. You certainly won’t buy your way out of it in that way, either, mister." Maybe she’s not dying to laugh, he thought.  

"Okay, so how do I make it up to you?"

As Bleddyn rounded the next corner, he knew they were almost at the summit, and that they would be down in Blaengarw shortly. The first car they had seen in over ten minutes passed – the driver of the vehicle alone. He appeared to either be talking to himself or singing. His driving seemed erratic for the type of road they were travelling. Bleddyn applied the brakes smoothly, as the car shot passed, rocking their vehicle slightly.

Flamin’ idiot, Bleddyn shouted. Slow down!

He can’t hear you, love, Claire said.

I know, just makes me feel better.

Anyway, I guess you will have to figure that one out for yourself, she said, grinning.

Huh? he said, still pissed at the guy’s irresponsible driving. Oh yeah, sorry. Bleddyn huffed, looking at Ioan in the rear-view mirror. What’d you think, little man? How’s daddy going to get out of this one? Claire sniggered. Bleddyn ignored her. Any suggestions?

Ice-cream! the boy blurted.

Okay, okay.

Maybe you should listen to your son, Claire said.

Hey? Bleddyn asked.

About the ice-cream, she said.

I thought currency wouldn’t buy me out of the mess I was in?

No, but ice-cream might, she said.

Nice tub of Cookie Dough for my princess.

Better make it two tubs. I always feel like lots of ice-cream when I’m upset with you, she said, knowing that would wind him up, as always when he nagged her about watching her weight, even though he liked her curves, she knew he didn’t want her getting enormous.

Hmm, okay, he said, caving to her demands. He had fallen foul of her wrath before, leading to three weeks of no intimacy and a cold, un-comfy sofa for a bed.

Good boy, she said.

Bleddyn looked in the rear-view mirror again, Bleddyn could swear that Ioan knew what was going on, as Ioan laughed and covered his face with his hands, as though saying, Oh, Dad, you’ve fallen into mam’s trap again, silly! He shook his head and turned the radio on.

Hi, I’m Diana Scott, and this is your three o’clock news...

Do you have to put that thing on? Claire asked.

Yes. I want to know how City got off in the F.A Cup.

Ha-ha, you and your blinking football, she said, trying to watch her language.

"Police are still baffled by the disappearance of Chloe Griffiths of Pontycymer, who went missing last Friday night after walking home from a night out with friends. She was last spotted outside The Green Meadow pub...

God, that is so tragic. I was in school with her, Claire said. She turned the radio up.

"Articles of clothing were found by police near the lakes in Pontycymer. They were later identified as being Chloe’s. The search for her continues. Police are scanning the nearby woods and surrounding areas with sniffer dogs. Divers have also been dispatched to search the lakes.  Detective Inspector Huw Davis, speaking from a conference with the press, had this to say.

We are confident that we will find Chloe within the next twenty-four hours. We have every available man sweeping the area, and are questioning people from door to door. We are urging for anyone with any information to come forward. A police watch is also with Mr and Mrs Griffiths, as the search for their daughter continues...

They should string him up when they find out who killed poor Chloe, Claire said.

You don’t know she was killed do you? Bleddyn said in a patronising tone. You always want to string them up. Capital punishment was barbaric, and abolished for the best...

Well, what the hell do you think happened to her? Claire’s sudden outburst caused him to flinch. Do you think she just decided to strip off by the lake, whilst drunk out of her mind, and go skinny-dipping?

Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realise you were that close...

I wasn’t, she was just someone I knew from school, that’s all. It’s just...

I know, was all Bleddyn managed.

As the car began to descend the mountain road, the view of Blaengarw could be seen in between the breaks in the dense foliage and trees. Ten more minutes, Bleddyn thought, I’ll be parked outside the Co-op.

As his mind drifted, the front tyre on the driver’s side ripped open, sending the car into a mild skid. Then the rear, left-handed tyre blew,

Fucking hell, he yelled as the car bounded off the rocky side of the mountain road. Ioan started crying and Claire screamed, as yellow sparks flew off the wing and splashed against the window.

The torn tyres could be heard flapping along the ground; the two intact ones screeched as the anti-locking brakes kicked in, bringing the car to a sharp, jolting stop.

Are you okay? Bleddyn asked Claire, turning around to check on Ioan, who was crying. Jesus God. It’s okay, mate. Claire, are you okay? she nodded. Keep your eye on Ioan; I’m going to take a look. Putting the hazards on, he got out.

He checked the front tyre and saw a chunk of something poking out of the rubber. Bending, he pulled the offending object out. Holding it to his face, he saw it was a piece of sharpened slate in the shape of an arrowhead. He tossed it to one side and went back to his door.

Bloody slate, he told Claire, opening the door. Ioan had stopped crying.

What? Claire asked.

Bleddyn turned to her again, Slate... You know, people have it on their roofs.

Oh. It was in the wheel?

"Tyre, love. Not wheel – tyre."

Right, okay, tyre. Can you fix it?

I can put the spare on, but the back one’s popped too.

So we’re stuck here?

No, we aren’t stuck here. I’ll call the RAC.

Great.

Bleddyn went to inspect the damage to the back tyre, and kicked it in frustration.

Claire could see Bleddyn in her wing mirror – he was talking to the RAC. She heard him give his details and where they were. Out the corner of her eye, a flicker of light caught her attention. It appeared to come from high up. She wound her window down and focused on the trees.

It happened again – a bright light flashed from the woods. It was as if the sun had reflected off a piece of metal.

They said they’ll have someone out here in thirty...

Did you see that? Claire interrupted.

See what? Bleddyn asked, pocketing his mobile.

That glint of light.

Huh?

Light, from the trees, she said, getting annoyed.

No.

Watch, she said, in an insistent tone.

Bleddyn stood by her window, and they both stared at the forest. Minutes passed. Nothing happened.

This is stupid, he said.

A flicker of light burst from the thick forest once again.

There, see it? Claire asked. Bleddyn had. It had been a shockingly bright blast that had lit up its surrounding area.  What the hell is it, Bleddyn?

I’m sure.

That’s about the fourth time it’s happened.

It looks like the sun is reflecting off something.

Yeah, like metal or something. Strange.

Hm. It’s probably nothing.

Just as Claire was about to speak again, a brightly coloured RAC flatbed pick-up truck came round the corner. She was somewhat relieved, but didn’t know why. Maybe it was the news about Chloe?

The driver of the flatbed did a U-turn in the road and parked in front of their car. Before the man got out, he too put his hazards on.   

Bleddyn walked towards the man and greeted him with a handshake. Claire could hear the RAC guy ask her husband if he could place a hazard triangle down on the bend behind their car, so drivers approaching would know something was wrong. Bleddyn nodded and headed back to the bend and placed the red, reflected triangle on the road.

Claire smiled, and watched as the RAC man hitched the winch to the front of their car. Bleddyn was now back by the man, asking if there was anything else he could do, but