Monster: A Novel of Extreme Horror and Gore Read online

  WARNING:

  The following book has many scenes which some will find offensive and disturbing. If you are not a fan of extreme horror and are easily shocked and offended, please do not purchase this title.

  This is an extreme horror novel intended for a mature audience only.

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely fictional; the products of twisted minds.

  Copyright © 2015 Matt Shaw and Michael Bray

  http://www.mattshawpublications.co.uk/ http://www.michaelbrayauthor.com

  The moral right of Matt Shaw and Michael Bray to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ASIN: B00SW4JS0O

  For Christina Cooper,

  May the nightmares within this book plague your dreams.

  A Note From The Authors

  Matt Shaw:

  It’s not often I start the book with one of these but, in this instance, I believe it is only fitting. One of ‘these’ being an apology. I am sorry for what you’re about to read. Not because it is a bad story. I don’t believe that. Had it been, I wouldn’t have released it. The apology has more to do with the content.

  When I first approached Michael Bray to write ‘Monster’ with me, I knew in my head what I wanted; or rather I knew the basics of what I wanted. He asked what I wanted from him and so I emailed him a rough structure of the story and the bits he needed to write. We alternated writing parts of the book, just as we did with ART. It was a system that worked well for us and we were keen to see if it would work again. When we had all the parts completed, we slotted it together like a big jigsaw!

  My original idea was not to make this a Black Cover Book. I wanted it to have a proper cover and, although a bit horrible in places, appeal to a wider - more mainstream - horror audience. But then I started writing it. I got some dark ideas for the story pretty early on and emailed Bray about them. I didn’t stop there, I mentioned them to other trusted sources too and the replies all came back the same; harrowing, ‘fucking hell’, ‘holy shit’, nasty and “What is wrong with you?” I didn’t think much of these responses though. My idea was for the climax of the book, the big turning point, and people know I don’t tend to beat around the bush with my endings. I like to make an impact, I like to make you sit up and question your morals and what you’ve just read. I want to get a reaction from you and this - this scene - gets a reaction. So, in my eyes, it’s a winner. At this stage, I thought we could still release as a non-black cover title but chuck a warning on the front of it.

  But then Michael started writing his sections and emailing me with ideas he had for his bits. I take full responsibility for the settings he writes but none for the content. I wanted him to do a back story for two of the characters and he took it somewhere extremely dark and bleak. Somewhere that even made me feel uncomfortable. I won’t pretend I am not worried about certain scenes within this book. My horror is very much ‘make- believe’, the horror Bray touches upon in this title are the horrors faced in the real world. It’s nasty and it’s entirely possible people could have gone through them themselves. Do not start thinking Michael has written these scenes just for shock value though. He hasn’t. They are key to the plot and help move the story forward and give understanding to the parts happening in the ‘present day’ situations (the first person sections I am writing). Without the horrors Michael has written - in detail - about, the story wouldn’t be as good or interesting. It’s as simple as that.

  I have aired my concerns with people close to me who’ve asked why I don’t edit the scenes Michael is writing. Quite simply - it is not my place to do so. I am not about to edit the words of a talented author. I am not about to delete things he has put to paper because I believe - together - we’re pushing the boundaries so far past the line of decency that the line no longer exists in our world. I’d say something if it weren’t key to the story but it is. It is a necessary evil and one he has written expertly.

  Readers once told me there is no such thing as ‘too far’ when it comes to horror. Well - read this book and then pretend I’ve asked the question again. Are there parts of this that have gone too far and made you feel uncomfortable? The weird thing is - parts of me hopes that the answer is ‘yes’. We are horror authors. We want to bring the horror to your world.

  We just don’t want to upset you.

  It’s a fine line we tread.

  I am proud of the story itself. It is dark and bleak. Quite funny really when you consider the fact that - at the start of the writing process - I told Michael, and a few other people, that it wouldn’t be as dark as ART, the other book we wrote together. I guess Michael and I are bad influences on one another.

  Is that a bad thing though?

  Michael Bray:

  I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to write for these notes. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I was going to write anything at all, however I think it’s important that I touch upon some of the subject matter I have covered when writing my sections of this story.

  Those who know my work will be aware that I am primarily a psychological horror author, which makes the places I had to go to during my sections of the story so difficult to approach. There are passages in here where on more than one occasion I stopped writing and asked myself if I really wanted to commit those words to the page. Almost entirely (one scene aside which Matt and I decided went just too far), everything made it into the manuscript.

  The things you are about to read will raise a few questions as to the reason for their inclusion. As difficult as they were to write, I think the content is justified. Sometimes the hardest things to touch on for a fiction author are the things a little too close to real life to cause real discomfort. The situations within this story are ones which I am more than aware are a reality for a lot of people in their daily lives and as a result may blur the lines between fiction and reality.

  This isn’t a case of me trying to glorify those particular issues, or to give any kind of justification for those who perpetrate them. I did (and do) worry that people may be offended to the point of hating the story, to which I say please don’t. The warning on the front is there for a reason, and if you are reading this, you have already made the commitment to take the risk and see what we have for you.

  I think it’s important as an author to keep pushing boundaries and testing yourself, especially when it comes to going outside of the usual comfort zone. Matt is a prime example of this. He continues to push boundaries with every release. The fact that some of the things I contributed to this story even made him uncomfortable speaks volumes. I was given complete freedom to craft my sections in the way I saw fit and really flesh out some of the characters you are about to read. As difficult as some of it may be to digest, I genuinely feel that it isn’t a gimmick or a means to cause controversy. It’s there because it is needed to move the story forward. Hopefully as you read, you will appreciate why we went the way we did with the content, and by the end might even have a better overall experience for it.

  I think Matt and I are in agreement that we would rather push these boundaries and risk making you, the reader, uncomfortable in the face of the content, than play it safe and give you a book without that same kind of emotional journey and ultimate payoff. After
all, isn’t that the purpose of any creative medium, be it film, music, or writing?

  In closing, I hope that you get at least something out of this book and appreciate why we took the journey we did during its creation. Be it repulsion, sadness, discomfort or anger, any emotional reaction, I’m of the opinion that any of these things serves to show that we were correct in the decisions we made, and if I had to go back and do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing because I have absolute faith that we did the right thing.

  As always, working with Matt has been as easy as when we worked on Art. We seem to have a very natural organic rhythm when it comes to working together, and can tune in to the vibe the other is aiming for with very little in depth planning or conversation. I hope this book gives you the opportunity to step into the darkest parts of our collective minds, and let us take you to places I very much doubt you have ever been before.

  P R O L O G U E

  Large, clumsy fingers fiddled with a small, silver crank attached to the box in the sweaty palm of the other hand. A large shape, partially consumed by the darkness of the room, rocked excitedly where it perched on a rickety chair over in the corner. Rocking backwards and forwards, a wheezy laugh escaped deformed lips hidden beneath a mask made of stinking flesh. With each turn of the crank, more of Ring around the Roses played into the room, drowning out the frequent drips of water splashing the concrete floor from ripped holes in the damp ceiling of the old building. Something clicked within the dirty box and the lid flew open - pushed by a rotten severed hand attached to a spring. The large shape jumped and howled with fear before throwing the box across the room where it smashed against the far wall. In another room, down a dark, dingy corridor - someone else was also screaming.

  #

  I called out again, “Hello?” I know someone else is here. I can hear them screaming somewhere within the same building. “Hello?” The scream suggests they could be here against their will, like me. Maybe they’re cuffed to a pipe on the wall as well? It would make sense as to why they’re not coming but it wouldn’t stop them from calling back to me, letting me know that they heard me. Letting me know that I’m not alone. How did I end up here? Last thing I remember was leaving the bar. Did I pass out? No. I couldn’t have done. I was a little worse for wear but no worse than usual and I’ve certainly drunk more. If anything, this evening…Is it even the same evening? How much time has passed since being unconscious and waking to find myself here? I screamed again, “Can you hear me?” Somewhere I heard a door slam. “Hello? Please! I need your help! Hello?” If the door slammed, it means they’re not stuck like I am. It means they’re moving around. They’re out there, free, and I’m in here stuck. They can help me. They must be able to help me. “Hello?!” I screamed again, louder than before. I froze, hoping to hear someone call back to me. Hoping to hear someone shout back that they heard me and not to panic, they’re on their way. No one called back. I’m alone. Fuck.

  I looked around the room again in the hope of finding a way out. I’d already wasted so much time looking for an escape and knew there wasn’t one, at least not one that involved a key to undo the damned cuff clamped around my bruised wrist. The room is practically empty: a concrete floor, metal pillars holding up an unsafe looking ceiling, a hole in one of the floorboards above me, rusted pipes dotted along the walls - some of them banging and clanking for why I’m not sure. There’s a broken chair in the middle of the room; one of the legs snapped off and the chair is lying on its side. And that’s it. Nothing to help me out of my predicament. I screamed again, not to get attention this time but out of frustration. Someone - within the other rooms of this God forsaken building - mimicked my scream as though mocking me.

  R Y A N

  1.

  “Are you still there?” Jema asked. She was on the other end of the phone pressed to Ryan’s ear. He nodded in answer to her question before realising he needed to speak too; a visual acknowledgement being worth nothing over the telephone.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He fell silent again as he just sat there, staring at the wall opposite his cluttered work desk. The clock - hung in the centre of the wall - had stopped. Its second hand not moving; time had frozen. Ryan was looking at it wondering whether there was anyway to wind it back to before the call came through; back to before he’d answered it.

  “Ryan?” Jema sounded nervous, not that Ryan had noticed. Other than the frozen clock hanging on the wall, he’d noticed very little since taking the call. “Please talk to me,” Jema continued.

  “I’m sorry,” he said before continuing, “you’ve kind of taken me by surprise.”

  Ryan and Jema had been dating for three months. Despite how they’d initially met, they’d discussed taking things slowly. Jema had been single for a while now and Ryan had only recently come out of a long-term relationship; a relationship he’d ended as he felt as though it weren’t going anywhere. They’d met via mutual friends at a house party and one thing had led to another. Before their first date, they’d drunkenly slept together and it was because of this moment that Jema was phoning him.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Two tests. A doctor’s appointment confirmed it. They think I’m close to three months.”

  “And…” Ryan stopped himself. Jema noticed.

  “What is it?” she asked. Ryan didn’t answer her. She could hear him breathing down the other end of the phone. There’d only be one thing he was uncomfortable to ask and she knew exactly what it was. “It’s yours,” she said, putting him out of his misery and saving him from having to ask the awkward question.

  “That’s…good,” he said, unsure of how best to respond. He’d felt the last relationship wasn’t going anywhere. He’d been with the girl for eight years and although they shared a flat together, their lives were pretty much separate other than the odd date night during the week. If he was to be in a relationship, especially now that he was in his early thirties, he felt as though it needed to be going somewhere. Of course he realised the lack of progress on the last relationship was also down to him but he didn’t feel comfortable asking for the girl’s hand in marriage and he wasn’t about to ask just for the sake of it. He didn’t want to become another statistic, like his own mother and father had been when they divorced during his turbulent teenage years. That being said - a potential baby only three months into a new relationship, where they hadn’t even moved in with each other, seemed to be moving too damned fast.

  “Are you free tonight?” Jema asked.

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes. I thought we could talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “I think we have things to talk about, don’t you?” she asked. It had only been three months since the start of their relationship but Jema felt, for her at least, it was more than a fleeting romance. She liked Ryan and she was sure he liked her too. The baby wasn’t planned, and she didn’t want him to feel trapped by it, but - from finding out about the pregnancy - she’d already decided that she wanted it. It didn’t help that - before she made the discovery - her mother often teased her that her body clock was ticking and ticking and ticking and that, soon, the batteries would die - just as they had on the wall clock in Ryan’s office. “Well?” she pushed him for an answer. It would be nice to do this as a couple but, if need be, she’d go it alone. Being raised by a single mum hadn’t hurt her when she was growing up, after her dad walked out when Jema was only three years old. “Ryan?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’m free tonight. What time did you want to come over?”

  Jema breathed a short sigh of relief. There was a part of her that honestly worried he was just going to break it off with her over the phone. They were new in the relationship and she understood neither of them had signed on to become parents yet. She was fully aware that his acceptance to meet up for a chat was not a confirmation that he wanted to be a father though and there was much to be discussed.

  “I can get there for about e
ight?”

  “Eight is good.”

  “Did you want me to bring anything?” she asked, unsure of how best to end the conversation.

  “Just yourself,” he answered.

  She hesitated a moment before asking, “Can you at least give me a clue as to how you’re feeling about this?”

  “Look, I’m sorry but I’m at work - I appreciate you calling to tell me the news but can we finish this tonight?” he asked.

  “Okay,” Jema felt herself well up. Ryan immediately regretted saying it so abruptly but the truth of the matter was - he didn’t know how he felt. Him? A father? It hadn’t been something he’d really given much thought to. In his head, babies came after marriage and - as he hadn’t even proposed to someone - he figured he still had time to stress about whether he was ready or not at a later date.

  “I’ll chat later,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “I love you,” he said. He did love her. But, again, a baby?

  “I love you too. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m as much to blame as you are,” he said. “Talk later.” He hung up the phone and realised what he said.

  Stupid idiot, he thought, I should have told her there was nothing to apologise for.

  Too late now. Damage done.

  He put the phone down on his desk and put his head in his hands. And to think, it had been such a good day up to this point.

  His colleague called over from the desk opposite, “Any danger of you doing some work today?” he asked. Ryan stood up, pulled his coat from the back of the chair and walked from the room, leaving his colleague flummoxed. “Ryan?” The office door slammed shut behind Ryan. His colleague, Jim, grabbed his own coat and followed.