The Monster Hunter Read online

  She sighed and set the bottle back down.

  Suddenly there was a shuffling noise, and then a deep slurping groan. “Oh no!” Davy whispered, clinging desperately to Althea’s arm, “It coming!”

  The slurbing sound grew louder, and then a guttural wet belching noise emulated from the closet. The room filled with a putrid stench. Althea took a pinch of sea salt and put it under her nose to suppress some of the odor.

  “Tia!” Davy cried out and he started to cry.

  “Ssshhhhhhh!” she hissed at him, “Do you want mother to hear?”

  “Oooohhhh” he sobbed quietly, “Wut we do?” Davy’s grip tightened on her arm.

  Althea didn’t answer, but instead took a long crooked stick out of her pocket. In the light it looked twisted and old, as if it had sat on the forest floor for most of its life. A jagged crack streaked up the side exposing a soft layer of grainy wood. “Let go Davy,” she whispered trying to pull her arm out of his grasp. He whimpered once more, and then reluctantly released her, quickly ducking down below the mound of pillows.

  “Turn out the light,” she hissed at him, still holding the stick, but he had buried his face in his hands and was no longer listening. She rolled her eyes and then let out an exasperated sigh. “Must I do everything myself,” she grumbled, then scootched across the bed. Her hand reached forward and flicked the switch of the light by his bed.

  Instantly they were engulfed in darkness.

  “Blluh blahh blluuh Blah,” a wet belch hit the air and the thick putrid smell began to grow stronger. “Blluh Bllaaah Blarrrrrrrrrrp!” it burbled.

  A bluish light began to emulate from the closet. It pulsed eerily outward and then merged like liquid with the texture of the darkness. Davy lifted his head and let out a loud whimper. “Tia!”

  “Shhhhhhhh! Davy,” she hissed, “You really must be quiet!”

  He wanted to do as she said, but his heart started to thump like a drum in his chest. The eery blue light twisted and then rooted itself in the fibers of the floor. A grotesque shape slowly emerged; thick and porous, like an old piece of cheese left too long in the sun.

  Althea looked with much distaste at the Galograth. It was by now so tall that the warts on the top of its head seemed to scrape the ceiling. Three goopy eyes sprouted from its forehead, huge and horrible, offset only by the pussy pimples of its flatulent cheekbones.

  A long crooked finger unfolded and then probed upward to the cave like openings of its nose scraping off a burbling booger that had crusted to the inside.

  “Watch out!” Althea ducked low. The finger flicked forward and the booger went flying. Like a distorted badminton birdie it arched over the bed and smacked wetly into one of the pillows on Davy’s fortress. The pillowcase seemed to melt as the snot around the booger emitted a stream of steaming funk.

  Althea grimaced.

  Galograths were notorious nose pickers, and they flung their crusted snot like little cannon balls wherever they went. From the corner of her eye she caught a flash of the monster’s finger as it went in for another one.

  “Aaaahhhhh!” Davy put his hand over his mouth so that his whimper was muddled. The monster located another chunky booger and loaded it into its nailbed.

  Althea clutched the stick in her hand. She took a deep breath and raised it high. The same blue light that had shaped the monster began to pour from the crack. As the light hit the air the stick appeared to glow, more and more until the wood became distorted. The blue deepened to a darker color and it was so lovely that Davy forgot about the monster.

  The gnarled and twisted wood transformed itself. Out of the deep light came a long blue blade that split the wood sideways, the outer bark writhing backward to shape the burled base of a blazing red handle. There was a dark darkness around the light of the sword. The weapon shuddered for a short second and then one by one birthed slithering symbols which themselves looked like dark stone. Each one slid up the sides of the sword and settled on the long blade in an ancient pattern.

  The Galograth also seemed to take notice of the spectacle, stopping in mid nose pick to stare stupidly at the sword. After a long pause it pursed its gargantuan lips, flicking its blue-black tongue to wet them. As it followed the outline of the weapon, it seemed to see for the first time, the person holding it. Althea!

  “Blarrrrrppppraa blaaahhh blurrrrrrbbbbbbbb,” drool dribbled from the corner of its lips. An almost sinister smile cracked its face, and it expressed an interest by raising one of three brows. Not liking at all what it saw, it lifted its loaded finger and took aim.

  “Tia!” Davy cried, but she saw it coming. The sword cut the air with a hiss “Mathocrath!” she whispered, and a red flame leapt like a tongue from the sword. It caught the booger in midflight, dissolving with a hiss.

  “Barrrummph?” The monster looked confused. It hesitated only for a second and then launched another booger in the air.

  “Mathocrath!” Althea called again, and the next booger went the same as the first.

  “Hand me the bottle Davy,” She whispered.

  Davy scooted past Althea and clutched the glass bottle with trembling hands. “Set it there,” Althea told him, and he deposited it in the middle of the bed.

  “Mathocrath!” she cried out again, and another air born booger combusted before it could reach them.

  “Take the cork out. . . hurry!” As Davy reached for the cork, the Galograth stopped picking his nose and glared. “Oh,” Davy whimpered as he undid the cork. “I’s so kared!”

  “Stop being scared!” Althea commanded. “Your fear is giving him more power!”

  Davy set the cork down beside the bottle and scurried back to the pillow fort to hide. The Galograth began to advance toward them. He smelled like rotten garbage and cow manure that had been left too long in the sun, and as he moved closer, Althea could see puss boiling over from the pimples on his arms and neck.

  “Blarbady Blah Ballllahhhh Bluuuurrrp,” He stuck out his fat blue tongue as he spoke, and a warm wind of funk hit Althea’s face.

  “Ohhhhh. . . . “ she shuddered!

  She saw his finger dip in to his nose, and she raised her sword and pointed it at the bottle. “Griswalde!” The bottle lifted up off of the bed. The monster stopped digging and looked stupidly at her.

  “Bara Grimordian, och li timor,” she spoke the name of each symbol on the sword, pronouncing them as clearly as if she were in French class at Cathebies Fine School For Ladies. “Barai limor,” as she said each symbol they lifted off of the sword one by one and hung in the air. “Obdoon, malai!”

  When the last symbol was spoken there was a popping sound, then a woosh, and she watched, as she had so many times before, as the symbols swirled backward around her and then leapt into the throat of the bottle.

  “Bumph,” the Galograth snorted and stumbled a few steps.

  The symbols sloshed the green potion, mixing it around and around, and then lifted it out of the tall glass opening. It seemed to grow and expand as it left the bottle widening in the air until. . . .

  Kersmack! It thrust itself against the Galograth, pummeling it backward from the force.

  Althea didn’t waste any time. She flung herself from the corner of the bed and did a double summersault in the air, landing squarely on her feet next to the stunned beast. She used her sword to lift aside bit of the green ooze.

  There! Swiftly she found what she was looking for and snip, snap snip, the blade of the sword cut the three long red hairs under the Galograth’s armpit. “Brrrrppppprapppp,” the monster belched, and another warm wind of funk hit her.

  “Ooooooohhhh,” she gasped, “you horrid horrid monster!” and rolled backward on the floor, then up onto the bed.

  The Galograth shuddered, his good arm flailing wildly beneath the ooze. He let out a long string of burbling belches, and Althea watched with some trepidation as the arm whose hairs she had clipped, began to shrivel.

  “Is it working?” Davy whispered, peering out through a crack he had made in the wall of pillows.

  “I can’t tell yet,” she answered, studying the monster’s reaction carefully.

  The arm seemed to spasm and then the burbled blue color of its skin began to deepen. The fingers shriveled and the arm itself began to wrinkle, a big black bubble formed in the middle. More and more of the arm dried up, and it all seemed to be gathering in the middle, right near where the elbow would have been.

  Fatter and fatter the middle of it grew, while skinnier and skinner the outer parts. The air was suddenly filled with a strained squeaking sound, rather like a balloon that was being filled with too much air. “Duck down Davy,” Althea called out, “It’s gonna blow!” She pulled the corner of the sheet over her head.

  Kerpam!

  As predicted, the Galogath’s arm exploded, spewing a ghastly blue and black liquid everywhere. The green ooze that had been covering the monster began to fade. The monster’s body steamed as the remainder of the potion melted and each ancient symbol slid out of the gel and back to their places on the sword.

  Althea and Davy peered out from the pillow fort. The monster flubbered and flailed as the potion dissolved and then began to shift and sit upright against the wall. He rubbed at the arm stub, and stupidly fingered the black goo. One long fingernail from his remaining hand flicked forward and found a piece of a red hair that was still attached to the stump.

  The tri eyes rolled around once. . . twice. . .then steadied themselves to stare directly into the wide eyes of the children. It burbled out what sounded like a laugh, and creased its lips to complement the sound.

  “It didn’t work Davy!” Althea hissed. She reached out and grabbed at his sleeve. “Quick! We have to turn on the lights!”

  Even as she spoke, the long red armpit hair, now
free from the goo, began to squiggle and squirm as if it were alive. First it seemed like a worm, skinny and twisting, but then it thickened, looking more like a long scaly snake. Wrapping itself around the stub where the monster’s arm had been, it began digging into the flesh.

  Though she had seen it before, Althea was still strangely fascinated by the way the stub transformed itself into the pulsing protuberance of what would be the monsters new arm.

  “Davy!” she whispered urgently. . . she looked over, but Davy was frozen beside her. His wide eyes glued to the chunky arm that was fast growing from the monsters old stump.

  “Again. . .everything myself. . . “ Althea mumbled for the second time that night. She quickly slid off of the bed and prepared to dash toward the light switch on the wall.

  “Tia!” she heard Davy cry out, “Wun!”

  The Galograth was standing up now and there was a mad glint in its rolling eyes as it turned toward her. “Wun” Davy cried out again.

  Althea threw her body toward the light switch. Just as she thought she was mere inches from it, she felt something slam into her. Blue slime splattered across her chest, and she could see the warty skin of the Galograth’s good arm as he flung her across the room.

  She hit the nightstand beside the bed, and sent a stack of books flying.

  “Tia!” Davy screamed.

  The monster took another swipe, and Althea flung herself upward, over the top of his ghastly arm and back onto the bed. She somersaulted above the wall of pillows and kerplunked down next to her brother.

  “Blrrrrrppppllllll Blahhhhhbddddyyy blluuurppp,” the Galograth belched, and he paused for a moment to examine his new arm. The red hair had finished its job and began shrinking back down to its place beneath his armpit. The monster wiggled his new fingers and dopily picked at the pussy pimples on his skin. “Brrmmmmmmmm” he crooned, but then darted his head back toward Althea. He glowered and moved forward and raising his arms in the air.

  “What in the world is going on in here?!”

  The light switch clicked, and suddenly the Galograth was gone.

  “Althea!”

  A braided red head popped up above the pillows. Mrs. Applegate stood in the doorway, both hands squarely on her hips, frizzy hair sticking out in at least six directions. “What in the world?” She pushed the door open wider and moved into the room. “Where is your brother?”

  Davy’s brown head barely rose above the fort and his eyes were wide as he mashed down some of the pillows with his nose so he could see better. “Davy!” her mother was furious, “do you know what time it is?”

  “The munter came back,” he whimpered, “Tia twide to save me.”

  “The what?” Her mother’s closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled a deep breath. She counted softly to herself as she exhaled and turned to look at her eldest child. “Althea. . . .?”

  “Davy wanted me to stay with him,” she scrambled for some explanation, “he was scared,” she glared at her brother for selling her out so quickly..

  Althea’s mother stiffly walked over to the wall of pillows and quickly deconstructed it, taking the pillows off one at a time and dropping them on the floor. “I have to be up in a few short hours,” she said, trying to contain her anger, “and both of you have to go to school early in the morning.” She dropped the last pillow on the floor and moved over to the bed to pull back the covers. She motioned for Davy to climb underneath them.

  Mrs. Applegate turned her head as she finished tucking in Davy, and pursed her lips in disappointment. “Althea, I would have expected better from you.” She smoothed out the blankets over Davy’s chest.

  “Momma,” Davy’s little voice rang out, “Can Tia tay wit me?”

  Her mother inhaled another long breath. She gave a stern look, and then after a few moments let out a long sigh. She pointed at the covers. “Allright then. But no more of this nonsense.” She stood and waited while Althea climbed under the covers next to Davy.

  “Look at this mess,” her mother pointed at the books that had been knocked off of the nightstand. “You will both have to clean that up in the morning.” Her mother moved back toward the doorway.

  “Momma,” Davy used his sweet little boy voice again. “Pweese weeve de wite on. Or de munter will git us.” Davy’s mom smiled wearily. “Allright,” she sighed, “I will leave the light on.” She pulled the door halfway closed. “Please, please go to sleep children!” she sounded desperate, “I have a very long day tomorrow.”

  Althea and Davy nodded obediently and watched as her mother left the room.

  ---

  Morning came all too soon for Althea and Davy. It took longer than usual for them to brush their teeth and dress themselves for school. Mrs. Applegate also seemed tired, she poured milk on her pancakes instead of syrup and didn’t notice until she took a bite. “Oh dear,” she smiled wearily and ate a bite of pancake anyway.

  At 7:00am sharp, her mother walked Davy over to Margaret’s daycare center. Althea waited outside for her ride- Dorthea Dixe and her big sister Dorris. Mrs. Dixe had four children, all of them girls. All of their first names started with “D”, a tradition that Mrs. Dixe, whose first name was Donna, carried over from her own mother. All “D’s” and not a smart one among them”, Althea had heard her mother mutter when she thought no one was listening. “Don’t you repeat that Althea!” She had quickly tried to cover up the comment. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Ever since then, Althea had come to believe that D was for ditsy. The Dixe’s seemed fonder of shopping and lipstick than they did of their schoolwork. Dorthea was in the second grade just like Althea, but she could barely read, and Mr. Dixe had finally insisted that the girls be tutored after school, instead of going to the mall with their mother.

  Mrs. Dixe was one of Cathebies founders, and she and Althea’s grandmother both belonged to the Society for the Betterment of Humanity, an organization dedicated to humanitarian causes and public charities. When they first arrived to the city, Lady Faldoon made the Applegate’s attend a Ladies luncheon and lecture on world hunger. Althea didn’t understand why they focused on the rest of the world, when it seemed to her there was a shortage of food at the luncheon. The two tiny teacakes she had been served barely filled her tummy, and all of the skinny grown-ups at the table looked like they hadn’t had a good meal in months. Being a lady, it seemed, meant that you weren’t allowed to eat much.

  It wasn’t long before Althea heard the telltale purr of Dorris Dixe’s silver convertible. It streaked up the street in the morning sunlight and looked like a diamond in the desert, against the backdrop of the Applegate’s run down rental house.

  “Dearest little one,” Dorris cooed, “Where is your mummy this morning?” She leaned over the side of the car as she spoke, looking into the rearview mirror and patting her new hairdo. Dorris Dixe had turned 16 not two weeks ago and the day after her birthday, her parents had given her the shiny new car.

  “Dropping off Davy.” Althea said quietly, smoothing the fabric of her little pink dress. It was the exact same dress she had worn yesterday, only a different color. Althea’s mother made all of her dresses, and they were each exactly the same style, puffy sleeves, gathered at the top, with a flared skirt and white islet lace peeking out from underneath the hem. Her mother had tried to get her to try a different pattern, but Althea would not wear anything else. This style of dress, she had found, was an irritant for many monsters. They did not like puffy sleeves, nor did they like the bright colors, and some even had a special aversion to white islet lace.

  “Well,” Dorris brushed a hand through her over blonde hair, “in that case. . . “ She glanced around just to make double sure Althea’s mother wasn’t around, “Get in you little weirdo,” she used her little finger to wipe off a lipstick smudge under her lip, “and hurry up, I’m meeting my boyfriend before school.”

  Althea opened the door and hoisted herself into the car. She set down the camouflage backpack her father had given her last year for Christmas, and slid into the seat next to Dorthea, who was putting on lip-gloss.