The Monster Within: Monster and Man as one

By Daniel Mark Charles

There is something dark and disturbing about the town of Fowlrenberg. Through the woods, down the streets, and shut behind the door of the only house near the woods lives a terrible monster that plagues the people of Fowlrenberg. People tend to go missing in Fowlrenberg, but no one knows why. The Werewolf of Fowlrenberg fiercely hunts under the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel
• Release date: Aug 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781649990570

Daniel Mark Charles

Writing for me started off by scribbling down a little story about a Werewolf that lived in the local lake that i lived across from. I still have that book in my possession to look back on. I wrote it, thinking that it could be something, thinking that it could be the beginning of something that I could do and add to this world. I remember, writing it as i was ten years old, staying a week over at my grandparents house. That hundred page note book has soon become a reality of my writing prospects and aspirations. "The Monster Within" is the rebirth. The cover is eye catching and the story is an exciting one. I continue to write in between publishing. Currently, I have finished book number 31 and "The Monster Within" is only my second published book. My next achievement would be to find a litarary agent for one of my favourite books. I need help with making "The Monster Within a possible candidate. It sure does deserve to be and I hope people love it just as much as I do. For now, i continue to write out of the love and passion of story telling. I've always had a knack for it, I believe. I always get ideas for new books to write. It never seems to stop and only being 21 with 31 full sized books, I have a lot to offer in the future and I just know that a few of those books are really special - special enough to be considered by an agent. That is the dream and with that, I dare others to dream as i do. And i encourgae any young writers to keep motivated and keep on writing, no matter your income nor how time consumed you are. One works hard and fights to accomplish what they desire. I sure know i have been and I will continue to. Don't give up so easily. Listen to advice, but never look away from that target which you wish to aim at. Feel free to check out my Instagram at danielcharles_author. It's new, but I could sure use the help. My facebook page is Daniel Charles - Author. If you enjoyed "The Monster Within" please leave a review too. It really helps and i greatly appreciate knowing that readers enjoyed the book. I always love hearing from readers.

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the publisher and author, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

Printed in 2020 – Second edition.

I greatly thank my hard-working editor of this book.

Thank you for making the book as perfect as can be.

– Angus Macdonald.

To my talented cover designer. Thank you for creating the perfect cover for The Monster Within

– Lydia Jones.

danielcharles_author

a.macdonald_

Cover designed by Lydia Jones [e-mail]

THE MONSTER WITHIN

Chapter 1

*

October 31st 1930

It was a cold night outside in the nippy, dark town of Fowlrenberg. In a quiet, cold and dark night, quite like itself, Fowlrenberg felt rather spooky.

The wet weather had turned to mist, rising upon the silent, damp road. The recent dribble of rain from the day dripped from the trees within the woodlands beside the small civilisation that was the town of Fowlrenberg, extending that rather spooky effect. Battling against the colder elements of outside, it was warm and crisp within the car of Hugh Halt's brand new Cadillac. – Thank goodness for his accessory that was his Harrison heater.

On a cold night like this, cruising down the strange street of Dotchem, a heater was sure needed. Dotchem street was known for being a little strange and dangerous for it’s number of homeless people who walked the street. Most were brought to insanity, replenishing themselves with the very alcohol that got them homeless in the first place.

It was a vicious circle which no one in Fowlrenberg could help. The homeless kept away from civilisation during the light of day, spending their time hiding in the cracks and staying out late at night. They roamed free, barely seen, lost, cold and with nowhere to go and no one to care.

Fowlrenberg was notorious for its strange missing's – the children usually disappearing from their beds or disappearing before coming home on night raids down the street on their bikes. Suggestion of the notorious crime led to homeless people doing the deeds. But, even they were snatched from their hiding, unaccounted to a tally and a system to which nobody knew them by to ever really notice that they were subjects to the missing too.

Something in Fowlrenberg was not right. There was something about the dark, where an unseen and undetected evil roamed free, picking off people as it pleased. But, the idea of a terror as such was merely a playful legend, made up by the children for an excuse to the sore-troubled reality of what was truly going on. At night, the streets were a dangerous place and no one quite knew why. Although, most of the town kids had their theory. Dangerous it was, and certainly no place for a couple to sit in the car, strolling the streets all night. The fashionable white tires of his car crunched under the wet road of Dotchem street. It wasn’t their fault that they were so daring.

The two teenagers who had just become engaged and were hiding it from their parents were filled with adrenaline not to care. Together, love and their brave retreat to commitment in marriage – being so young – they had to get away to somewhere quiet. But, the streets of Fowlrenberg were a little too quiet for comfort. It was something to which the couple shouldn’t have taken so carelessly as to voyage the streets at night for some alone time. It wasn’t their fault to dismiss the temptation after all. But, they should have remembered the light history of the town when it went dark.

Hugh had taken his girl out for a midnight drive down the quiet street that was Dotchem. A long street which followed the woods on one side and a line of houses facing the towering woods on the opposite side.

Doris Chapman was in the passengers seat, but only barely. She had made her way to her young fiancé’s shoulder, leaning her head upon him as if it were a pillow. The two were dressed nicely from a dinner that they had gone to. Warm, comfortable in the car, and their bellies full, all was well. Happy in love, comfortable with each other and even comfortable with the spooky night, until their stomachs started churning to the odd sight of a little girl that was staring down at the lone car from the top level of her window. In her home, standing in her window on the top floor, stiff as a board, looking like she was seething with jealously, she burned in her stare. She stared down at them from her high tower, cast in the blurry window, watching them scatter by, like she was a hungry spider under the rot of it’s trench, waiting for the right time to snap up her prey. All spooky and land-filled with metaphor's, she looked quite sad at the same time.

Alone, so bright in the window, watching the couple like she knew trouble was coming in a trouble-infested place. She didn’t dare to warn them of what she might of known, if she could. Upon her face, reeled the terror of fear, fearing for the careless couple who abandoned the legend which went about the town, taking it as a stupid story spread by the children over town to keep each night spooky and exciting. Her figure was faint in the dark room that she was in, but the moonlight beckoned down upon her worried face. She was ignored by Hugh as he took his eyes off her, bearing down upon the rest of the road. Leaving the young girl like it was nothing, he coursed on down the road, never thinking another second of it.

The year was 1930 and eloping at a young age was unusual for two people in love. Both could not bear to stay away from each other, knowing that it was the right thing to do. Hugh already had a career as a pharmacist and life looked swell, knowing that they were together.

'That was a splendid dinner, Hugh. Golly, you sure do know how to treat a gal.' Doris cheerfully said, slipping away from his shoulder and listening to the song that was on the car's radio. "You brought a new kind of love to me" – Maurice Chevalier.

The song was playing and Doris swayed to the rhythm of the sweet and classical tune upon the car radio. The music was soon dampened, and their spirits were overturned by the sight of the most famous house in town as the car slowly squeezed by it, taking all caution like the car knew better then Hugh to take it slow past the famous house of Fowlrenberg. It was a two story house at the end of  Dotchem street - the only house that was on the woods side of the long street.

It was the night of Halloween and the dark, eerie two-story house was slobbered and pounded with exploding pumpkins which dripped down the walls. Doris and Hugh both looked out of their window as he slowed down a little, catching up to his cars caution. At the side of the house, children were playing dressed in scary costumes and tormenting the house with rancid vegetables and pumpkins. It wasn’t rare to see children out by the famous house – especially during Halloween – a tradition bloomed which only the most daring kids followed.

'That poor house,' Doris soberly stated, seeing the flashing lights in the top story window of the house, but seeing no figure within.

'Don’t worry, Hun, for years children have been giving that house grief. It’s a tradition – We all grew up with it around here. These kids will soon grow out of it and call it nonsense, as I did. That is what happens when you get older. Let kids be kids for now.'

Hugh focused back on the road, passing the house, and leaving the children to continue throwing pumpkins at it. A curling smile came from the red-hot lips of Doris. It was difficult to spot in the darkness of the car, yet Hugh could still see her smile which glowed in the corner of his eye.

'Hugh, did you ever disturb that poor man as a kid?' She asked, pouting her lips and speaking as if he were to be in some sort of trouble with her.

'Are you kidding me? Every single night.'

Hugh was not afraid to answer her - he was almost pleasantly satisfied to admit that he had been from a long, historic tradition of pranking the old house at the end of Dotchem street. 'The guy is a psycho. Everyone knows that in this town – or they at least make humour to be. But, I don’t really know anymore.' Hugh drove up the street, over the phantom of hills and under the street lights.

'But I’m not from this town...' Doris lightened her voice with an innocent smile.

'Well... you’re one of the lucky ones I guess,’ Hugh stated, flashing out his tongue and choking a creepy, frightful, Halloween-kind-of chuckle to scare Doris a little. Though he joked, he hid the immediate cold trickle which strung down his spine. Many a scary night and memory he had as a child out the front of that house. Seeing it again merely jogged his memories. But, he wasn’t scared of the house and the man inside anymore.

'Where are you taking me, anyway?' Doris asked, unaware of Hugh's both devious and romantic idea for the last of the night.

'Well, its a little place where most of the town knows it by one name - Make Out Point.'

Doris playfully slapped Hugh's shoulder as he laughed.

'Stop it, you freak!' She blurted out, chuckling to the not so original name. Hugh went on

'I said most! But I like to call it, The Love Nest. Better name, don’t you think?' Hugh drove down the rest of the road, leaving the rest up to Doris’s imagination as they neared their destination.

They followed the rest of the road, guided by the housing on one side and the ordeal of woods on the other. The woods stretched out for miles and miles and very few were brave enough to enter them. The road took them around the woods, until the only place in which the town was not fearful to travel. It was a creek that all children around Fowlrenberg would play in and most teens would share their first kiss upon the bridge. It was another little tradition that the teenagers of town took part in.

The car pulled up at the side of the street, the shadows of the still woods flared over the roof of the car and the road. The two got out of the car, the music shutting off yet still swatting in their ears as the music of the night took them away to the bridge. Hugh held Doris’s hand, walking across the wood of the bridge which hung over the creek bed below. Creak, the floor boards did. They were a little out of work by the sounds of it. Walking across them, they stood in the centre of it, under the moonlight and watched the stream of relaxed and calmed water flow into the woods which stood magnificent and mysteriously beside the creek.

'You know, when I was younger, my friends and I would come down to this very creek and catch frogs or sink each other’s model ships.' Hugh leaned over the bridge's railing, reminiscing about his childhood as he spoke of it.

'What made you stop?' Doris asked, holding onto his sleeve.

'Kidnappings.' Which was the short and blunt answer that Hugh shuttered. 'Too many kidnappings sent us back indoors - this town is notorious for it. Yet, the kids around here seem to still rebel against their parent’s wishes.' Doris interjected, her eyes glistening in the moonlight which shone down at them from above the tree hedges of the woods.

'Well, it is Halloween after all.' Hugh nervously chuckled with Doris, thinking back to the house that they passed that every child feared, yet still pelted and pranked every night. Yes, it was Halloween. A night in which the old house down Dotchem street was the scary the most. When old man Shawcross came out to chase them away, he came out with a baseball bat in his hands that cleared the children away like Jaws at the beach. They did not like the man within that house – people always thought that he was responsible for all the strange and unsolvable kidnappings – Well, the kids of town sure did. Kids making up rumours, just because the house and the person within was a little freaky. It was something that was taught over the years that the house remained. For a long while, the tradition to pelt the house remained.

'Would you believe that this town is said to be cursed. Ghosts in the woods, so some of the kooks say around here.'                   

'Ghosts?' Doris reinstated to clarify.

'Yes, ghosts from the kidnapped people from over the years. They haunt the woods, trying to get people to wander in deeper to get lost in the woods with them. But I think its way worse than what people think. Stupid rumours only cover the truth of what really goes on,' Hugh muttered to himself. Hugh then looked back to the woods, as though he was signalling that the spooky man in the house had everything to do with the strange, unresolved missing’s. But, it was too far and the hills blocked its menacing and hack-saw sight. Before Doris could ask what he may have meant, a rustling in the bushes down below disturbed their peace. Doris gasped, the two looking down below in the bushes to spot the peeping tom who they instantly suspected – despite all the creepy relations which Hugh had revealed about Fowlrenberg.

'Hey! Why don’t you go on and get out of here, Bucko!?' Hugh shielded Doris with his imposing figure; his muscles were large and his outline was intimidating in the moonlight. It looked as though he was talking to nobody, just the rustling of a heavy breeze. There was no one or nothing in sight. But suddenly, an unearthly growl, rumbled within the bushes that were covered in darkness. Then, glaring and bright yellow eyes formulated out of the darkness in the woods ahead of them. The cold swirled around their ankles as the eyes seemed to grow larger and brighter within the darkness of the woods. From out of the growth of the woods, the figure came out as the eyes flinched away. Hugh and Doris could not quite understand what it was, seeing hairy, lumber and flinches of claws and teeth, but they couldn’t exactly make out what it was. But, sure enough, they both knew that whatever the large, growling and beastly figure was, it was coming towards them.

Doris screamed as Hugh heaved her with him off the bridge, running off the frail and clacking wood towards their car to escape. Hugh and Doris made it safely inside the still toasty-warm car before whatever was chasing them caught up. Shutting the doors with a hard thud which thumped through the slits of the trees in the woods, they were now locked in. Hugh was awestruck once the ignition of his vehicle was turned. He remembered only flashes as it all happened so fast. But then, both he and Doris caught the dead on stare of it, locking their stare with the deformed, monstrous beast.

Out the front of his car, blaring in the car lights, stood a ten foot tall monstrosity. Hugh’s eyes were glazing by its presence, his body froze.

The monster was hairy, standing on its hind legs and raising a muscled arm in the air to swipe, captured in front of the bright moon, pinned high up in the sky. The teeth rowed upon it’s unhinged jaws scintillated under the moonlight, guzzling with sloppy saliva which spat out of its mouth. 'Get us out of here!' screamed the ringing voice of Hugh's fiancé. But, Hugh was frozen. He was mesmerised with both fear and fascination as the beast before the pair began howling up to the sky, only feet from the hood of the car. Swiftly breaking out of the power force of fear and fascination, Hugh jumped into action to Doris's pleading screams, shining the fresh headlights of his of his vehicle, the lights blinded the beast to send it back on its way into the woods, running to which it came. The car was turned around, squealing its tires back onto the road and speeding back down Dotchem street to get away.

*

The present day...

Fowlrenberg is an old town, secluded and tucked down at the borders of Maine. A town which hid away from everything else, cloaked in all it’s wilderness and woodlands. The town and its people were cut off from anything else and the tall-timber trees blocked most from looking in and looking out. Fowlrenberg was the only town for miles in any direction. The town was built hundreds of years ago surrounded by the old and ancient trees which towered up into the sky.

Fowlrenberg was a beat-up, old town. Secluded with people who liked to live life how it was in the past. Progression was something which barely existed until the younger generation gained in numbers. The town and it’s people were mostly prominent in hunting and shooting in the wilderness of the deep, surrounding woods, up until recently when the new generation of people began to grow fearful of the history and stories that flushed about the town. Rumours and scuttled stories about the town and its notorious kidnappings had been spoken about the town since they first begun – two hundred years ago. These days barely a child would wander the streets at night, unless you were a teenage bully like the Zeckie gang or part of the opposing group that Rowland Halt's brother was a part of.

The law were disgruntled by the fact that they couldn’t solve anything. Few they were and nothing could ever be found. For now – as they always did, the streets were virtually free range. Attacks were so spotty and unpredictable, and in the little, old town of Fowlrenberg, there just wasn’t enough resources and man-power to be out on patrol, twenty-four-seven.

Practically every night, the streets belonged to the kids who would dare to demolish the fear and crush the fear in a real fight the power spirit. The older teens would drink, smoke and go down to the oldest house in town – old man Shawcross's home. The stories which circulated around by the Fowlrenberg children about Shawcross, the old man that lived in the house, were not pleasant.

Most believed that he was some sort of a child snatcher or the town's creepy paedophile. There were rumours of the man’s pathway past, brought up by the children who casually made a joke out of it, but lived by the tales which spread fear upon the younger kids.

His strange hiding in his dark, creepy house merely added to the fire. Despite this, teenagers like the Zeckie gang and Rowland’s brother, Landry and his group would ride down the end of Dotchem street to prank and terrorize his house throughout the night . The teenagers destruction of Shawcross and the house had been going on for as long as he had lived there and the stories and rumours about him seemed to be passed down to keep the fear alive.

Tough kids like Zeckie and Landry's separate group – that is where they would be all night. But most, decided to stay indoors, hanging out with friends in the basement like any other group of friends would do in the nineties. The basement for Row Halt was like a fortress for him and his friends who always headed down into the basement any time after school and throughout the holidays.

*

It was close to midnight, just an hour away. In a town where kids had no bedtime and a kids basement was very much like their own house underneath their parents. It was sweet serenity. All a kid needed was a bunch of goofy friends, candy, sodas, music and a basement to hang out in. Star Wars posters and all the best film posters from Steven Spielberg, coated Rowlands basement walls. Posters which showcased his excitement and imagination for story telling, just like his grandfather, Hugh Halt had told him, Row passed the stories onto his friends.

'Behold, the creature with bright, luminous and yellow eyes creeping from the breaks and slithers of trees in the woods. Only the few that have seen those very eyes... it was the last thing they ever saw. The mist of the woods, circled around its sinister stare, waiting, watching, readying to snag anything that would innocently wander by. From there, once it had its prey in its sinking, mighty teeth, it would drag it through the woods, carting it back along the road, leaving a smear of rose-red blood from its kill along the floor behind it, only to be washed away by the rain, if not, there to stay in warning that another had been taken and killed. People only realise what is out there when it is too late and when it is after them.

After the beast killed