Doom Phage (eBook)

Hellmouth

Dreagen Grim (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
144 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-9398-1 (ISBN)

Infos

On a dark and stormy night in 1996, a group of teenagers find themselves trapped in a museum with a colossal monster driven by an insatiable appetite.

Growing up, Dreagen was captivated by dinosaurs and monsters, drawn to their awe-inspiring presence and the metaphors they often embodied-reflections of humanity's ancient fears and fascination with the macabre. As a young boy, he discovered the worlds of horror and dark fantasy through books and films, sparking a lifelong passion for these genres. Dreagen became fascinated with the language of fear and its role in the timeless art of storytelling-a tradition that dates back thousands of years. Monsters, he learned, have haunted the shadows of our legends since the dawn of human history, serving as reflections of our deepest fears and desires. Today, Dreagen is the proud owner of Grim Thrall, an independent publishing house specializing in horror and dark fantasy, with a particular emphasis on melancholic storytelling. Through his work, he strives not only to share his love for the genre but also to inspire readers to discover their own enduring fascination with the stories that dwell in the dark.

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On a dark and stormy night in 1996, a group of teenagers find themselves trapped in a museum with a colossal monster from a bygone age, whose insatiable appetite drives it on a murderous rampage. Stalked by this unstoppable predator, they must band together to find a way out before they are devoured one by one. The mouth of hell opens in this woeful tale of bloodshed and horror.

Textauszug

CHAPTER 1

September 6, 1996

Megan sat in the doctor’s office awaiting the results of her latest round of tests. While most sixteen-year-old girls were likely spending their Friday afternoons hanging out after school, Megan faced the unfortunate reality of getting treated for cancer. Diagnosed at fourteen, she vividly remembered feeling as if she had stepped into a strange, alternate version of her life. Cancer—the word alone felt alien on her tongue and was not something she had given much thought to until that point. And why should she? she reasoned. She was supposed to have her whole life ahead of her. Best laid plans, she thought grimly. Still, the memory of that day always tied her stomach in knots. Her mother had been with her, holding her hand when the doctor delivered the worst news of her life. Despite being present for all of it, Megan remembered that day as if it had happened to someone else, feeling instead like a spectator to a tragic affair. Recalling the doctor’s voice fading into the distance as he detailed the type of cancer and all available treatment options, reaching a point where she could only see his mouth moving but heard nothing of what was being said.

Closing her eyes, Megan felt transported back to that moment. She saw her doctor walk into the room with a forced smile, holding a clipboard with the worst news of her life. Strange, she thought, how a few words on a piece of paper could radically change one’s outlook. It had taken time for the reality to fully hit her—not crying or feeling scared initially, just numbness. Perhaps it had been her mind’s way of protecting her, cutting her off from the emotions that would have reduced her to a crying mess on the cold linoleum floor while her mother did everything she could to console her.

Mom, she thought. A tragedy in itself. Megan’s diagnosis had come only two months after she had left her father, who had been an alcoholic. Years of him disappearing for days, only to return with elaborate excuses while reeking of booze eventually became too much for her. Megan was honestly surprised it had not happened sooner, considering the severity of the situation. At the same time, she had also become concerned with her mother’s “new look,” which consisted of black clothing and eyeliner, heavy metal t-shirts, spiked chokers, and a new hair color almost every month. Blue and black were the current hues. Megan had suffered the brunt of her mother’s concern, which came in daily inquiries such as, “Why are you wearing that?” or You’re not leaving the house dressed like that, are you? The result was always Megan reassuring her mother, “No, I’m not doing anything illegal,” or her favorite, “No, Mom, I’m not on drugs.” An old Suicidal Tendencies song always came to mind.

Her mother had been very attentive in the beginning, accompanying her to every appointment. However, starting late last year—maybe the beginning of this one—she had begun missing them here and there, blaming it on having to work double shifts at the department store. Though Megan never took her mother for granted, given that she never failed to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads, she couldn’t help but wonder if being continuously reminded that her daughter had cancer was beginning to wear on her. Poor her, Megan thought sardonically.

Fortunately for Megan, she had her best friend Tera, who was always eager to pick up the slack. Tera drove her to her appointments when her mother could not and just generally there for her when she needed a shoulder to cry on or a friendly ear to listen when she wanted to vent. Not that Megan was in the habit of wallowing in self-pity. Quite the opposite, really; she frequently kept her feelings close to her chest despite Tera’s efforts to get her to talk more about them. Even if it turned into a straight-up bitch-fest, she often said. The thought of which never failed to bring a smile to Megan’s face. Still, the true test of their friendship came shortly after Megan’s initial diagnosis. Feeling particularly despondent one night, she had purposely overdosed on her pain medication. Tera had just come over to check on her when she found Megan lying on her bedroom floor. Wasting no time, Tera shoved her fingers down Megan’s throat, forcing her to vomit the pills back up before they had a chance to take effect, effectively saving Megan’s life. She recalled coming to consciousness in her friend’s arms and seeing the look of fear and relief on Tera’s tear-streaked face. Despite Tera’s insistence, Megan begged her not to tell her mother, to which she reluctantly agreed. Since then, Tera had kept a watchful eye on Megan, serving at times almost as a surrogate mother, though Megan preferred to think of her as the sister she never had. While they had been close prior to her getting sick, they had since grown inseparable.

Hearing the door to the small room open, Megan looked up to see Doctor Khatri walk in. A short, Indian woman with shoulder-length hair, she carried, as usual, a clipboard. Here we go, Megan thought despairingly.

“Hello, Megan,” the doctor said cheerfully, glancing down at the clipboard before dropping it to her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Megan replied dryly.

“Good. Will your mother be joining us today?”

“She, uh… had to work late. Again.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine,” Khatri said while flipping through Megan’s chart. “So, we’ve received the results of last week’s test…” She scanned something on the second page.

“What?” Megan pressed, detecting the hesitancy in her voice. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not bad.”

“But it’s something, right?”

Megan began to feel numb, as she had the day she was diagnosed. Certain now, it was her way of warding off a potentially difficult emotional reaction. Doctor Khatri had always been direct and to the point, relying on what she called “hard science” to discourage any feelings of fear or despair in her patients. However, Megan had observed on a few occasions her tendency to dance around any topic whose outcome was perhaps less than ideal. In this case, the state of her disease.

“It’s not as good as we would’ve liked,” Khatri explained. “But not nearly as bad as it could be.”

“Okay, so what does that mean?”

Sighing, Khatri sat down in a chair and rolled up to Megan, who she could see was feeling apprehensive. “It seems the tumor associated with the cancer hasn’t reduced in size like we hoped.” Megan’s face fell. “But!” Khatri continued optimistically, “it hasn’t grown any bigger either, meaning we’re no worse off than before.”

“But not better,” Megan countered.

“No, but considering how most cases where radiation fails result in the tumor growing, you’re pretty lucky.”

“Sure, lucky,” Megan muttered.

Offering her a sympathetic smile, Khatri said, “Look, I know this isn’t ideal.”

Megan fixed her with a wry expression.

“Okay, it blows.”

Megan tried not to smile.

“But you have to believe me when I tell you this means you have a real fighting shot.”

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?”

“But… we are going to have to look at starting chemo.”

The words hit Megan like a punch in the gut, as she had long feared this possibility. While radiation was far from pleasant, its side effects were considerably better than those accompanying chemotherapy. Having done enough reading on the subject, she knew she would be in for some tough times if forced down that road.

“That, uh… makes you feel really sick though, right?” Megan asked nervously, feeling herself break out in a cold sweat.

“The side effects can be difficult, yes,” Khatri admitted. “Though they do vary among patients. There’s a chance you would only experience minor ones—limited hair loss and only small bouts nausea.”

“Hair loss?” Megan repeated softly, tugging at a strand of her hair.

“Blue’s your color,” Khatri said, smiling as she ran a finger gently over one of the blue locks.

“Won’t matter soon, right?”

Taking her hands into hers, Khatri spoke candidly, “Hey, this isn’t the end, okay? You can beat this.” When Megan looked down again, Khatri lifted her face so their eyes met. “But you can’t run from it; understand? You have to face it.”

Megan regarded the woman, peering deep into her eyes and seeing the earnest sentiment behind them. Maybe Khatri was right, she thought. Maybe she just had to think positively about the whole thing, and she would find the strength she needed to get through it. She spotted a poster on the wall with a kitten hanging by its front paws from a branch, reading “Hang in There.” Thinking she would rather trade places with the kitten, she looked back at Khatri and asked, “Okay, so when do we start?”

“Well, I can set up your first round of treatment for Monday,” Khatri said. “That’ll give you an excuse to take a few days off from school.” She winked playfully at Megan, who only managed a half-hearted smile. “But I will need to speak with your mother. Today, preferably.”

“I’ll tell her to call you tomorrow,” Megan said.

Khatri shook her head. “Sorry, Megan, but unfortunately this can’t wait. You said she’s working?”

Megan nodded.

“Okay, I’ll leave her a...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 4.3.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Kinder- / Jugendbuch
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-9398-1 / 9798350993981