Dargen: Horror Stories, #1

By Matthew Luke

Dargen is a series of horror stories by master storyteller Matthew Luke - Beware the crow with the white feather. . . 

 

Step into a world where darkness reigns, and nightmares come to life. In "Dargen: Horror Stories Volume I" you'll journey through the chilling depths of fear as you encounter three spine-tingling tales that will haunt your every thought.

In the first story, Dargen watches as three desperate souls seek refuge from a raging storm in an abandoned hut, only to find themselves face to face with an unspeakable horror - a relentless force that hungers for their flesh.

Dargen then takes us to a farm edging on an ancient forest where a mother's love takes a sinister turn. The horror that only Elizabeth sees will drive her mad and towards her own undoing.

Finally follow the crow as he ventures deep into the heart of the woods, twisting nature against those that live there. Try to keep your wits about you as a beast is unleashed and the towns people are hunted and slaughtered under a full moon.

"Dargen: Horror Stories Volume I" is not for the faint of heart. It is a journey into the macabre, where gore and suspense collide, and the boundaries between the living and the dead blur. If you dare to face the horrors that lurk in the shadows, grab this book, and prepare to be consumed by a relentless fear that will keep you awake long into the night.

Are you ready to unlock the door to your darkest nightmares? Embrace the terror and dive into "Dargen" today. But be warned: once you start reading, there's no turning back...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Luke
• Release date: Oct 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223088806

Matthew Luke

Let Matthew Luke draw you into worlds of darkness and horror, grim determination laced with brutality, or enchant you with humorous fantasy and light-hearted musings. The depths you descend when you engage with the dark, masterly written series: Dargen can only be matched with the light humour of the fantasy world of Morel, or at least tempered by the raw brutality of The Marixian Empire. Whatever your reading or genre preference may be, Matthew Luke is certain to keep you on the edge of your seat.

Book preview

Chapter 1 - Hunger

My child, you offered yourself to me,

For your sweet flesh I must thank thee,

But how my hunger does persist,

I hope your sister does not resist.

DARGEN PERCHED ON THE strongest branch of the dead crust of a tree, the one with the half-rope still tied there, gently swaying in the icy wind. He ruffled up his glossy, black plumage to keep the warmth in, conscious of the one white feather that always distinguished him when he flew in a murder.

Ahhh, here they come! he thought, the torture of his long wait and malediction finally washing away as the waters of his dark excitement flooded back. My actors, my actors, play your parts well! he cajoled. Slowly the three figures on the horizon traversed the hard, cold land towards the lonely black tree, the arctic breeze tugging at their clothes as they marched despondently.

Welcome! Welcome! he cawed to them, Come, come, it is your turn! Be believable please, I want to feel as you feel! Cry as you cry. I need this, I need this!

THE BROTHERS, JONATHON and Michael, with their friend, Benjamin, had traveled slowly across the stony, grey land towards the skeleton of a tree, but had hastened themselves when the impending shadow of the storm reached from the horizon and began to claw its way across the sky. It was still distant but it had already covered the last bit of warmth shining from the sun and cast the land into a foreboding gloom. The wind had grown colder, and as it howled across the stony ground, it promised a hard, wet night.

As they neared the dead, blackened tree, the only landmark in the numb landscape, a large black crow, perched on one of the branches, began cawing at them raucously, ominously.

Is he welcoming us or trying to turn us away? mused Benjamin. He is a big one. Perhaps he is upset that there is nowhere to shelter from the storm.

As am I, Michael added, absentmindedly picking up a pebble and casting it at the bird. The bird ducked and quietened, though the stone posed no threat of hitting it.

What was tied there I wonder? Jonathon said, referring to the old rope hanging from the crow’s branch. A child’s swing perhaps?

The old cottage back some must have housed a family. Probably a swing, like you say, Michael replied, though something inside him left him feeling unconvinced by his own words.

That old cottage might be a good place to spend the night, Benjamin put in. That storm looks cold and there is no other shelter out here.

Agreed, the brothers replied together.

Slowly the three of them turned away from the tree, and as they began to make their way back, Michael felt a nagging, a tugging, a voice inside telling him to beware, screaming for him to beware. He turned his head to look back at the tree, and the scene of the rope dangling from the dead branch, the storm approaching from behind, and the large, black bird staring almost expectantly at him, sent a shiver down his spine. If a bird could smile, he would say this one certainly was.

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THEY BURST THROUGH the door with a howling gale of rain-infused wind. Quickly piling into the small, damp hut, they slammed the door shut, extinguishing the last remnant of light.

Scrambling around in the dark, they managed to light a small fire in the charcoal-laden fire-pit in the center of the room with some tinder Michael had stored at the bottom of his pack.

Benjamin slid down against the half-rotten door, using his weight to keep it closed, his heavy pack dropping with a thud next to him on the hard, packed earthen floor. The wooden cottage, ripe with the odors of rotten timber and mold, had been there for a long time by the look of it, and as the small flame leaped to life, the shadows danced out over the walls of the room that held secrets and stories long lost. The room was mostly bare but for a large rusty cauldron, rimmed with cobwebs and filth.

Although the walls didn’t completely break the wind, and the roof was beginning to leak as the storm rolled in, the men were grateful for the shelter they had found. As they settled down, Michael coaxing the fire up, Benjamin and Jonathon rummaged through their packs for dried rations. A sudden, ear-splitting crack accompanied by an unsettling flash introduced the storm in a heart-pounding fashion. The men nervously smiled and laughed at the way they had all jumped.

I wonder where the family is, said Michael, reflecting on the squalid dwelling. It was his nature, curiosity. To think on the lines sketched into an old man’s face, or ponder the missing limb of a beggar. That every person had a story as deep and long as his own truly amazed him.

The land is poor, hard. It would have been difficult to scratch a living from these fields. I would guess they moved on to better things, replied Benjamin as he tossed a lump of bread to Michael. Benjamin was an optimist. To show others that there was always a way forward, that after a storm there would be a fresh crop, something less bleak, brought him a gentle satisfaction. But the lesson he always alluded to was that better things could only be reached with persistence and hard work.