A REAL HOWLER

The Cabin in the Woods had been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window, lit only moments ago, by a being of not entirely human constitution. There was something about him that made your skin itch, and the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but it was impossible to say exactly what it was. It was subtle and arose in the deepest part of the subconscious, a message coming from the part of the brain concerned only with survival. The flame bounced and danced, partnered with the gentle breeze flowing through the cabin, illuminating and casting light on the walls, highlighting cobwebs, spiders and a couple of bats that were hanging around in the darkened corners. The man gazed into the flame, the look in his eyes would frighten even death himself. It was a stare of deep and torturous contemplation, and if you were to have locked eyes with him at that moment, it may just have stopped your heart, dead in its tracks. Something in his hand came into view as he shifted positions, resurfacing from the dark recesses of his mind. A pamphlet: The recovery Den, drug rehabilitation centre for young adults, Drum mossy glen; Senior counsellor Mr Flow. It receded into the darkness as quickly as it had come, as he straightened up to his full height, took a deep breathe, then huffed, puffed and blew the candle out.

The bus left Barlinnie prison at nine am, carrying a dozen Scottish lads toward Drumossie Glen to attend a two-week drugs rehabilitation program. Things were peaceful at the front of the bus, where the usual school yard pecking order still held firm. Quiet, unassuming and meeker boys upfront with the loud, disruptive and most troublesome at the back. Kurt was hitting a double bicep, showing off his guns to Derek: “eighteen inches Deso, check out these bad boys”. “Yeah bro, you look awesome, you gotta train me to look like that when we get out of this shit hole.” Kurt fist bumped his best friend and cell mate of four years. “You got it brother”. Kurt lurched forward and slapped Benny round the back of his head. “Maybe we can get this fat boy to come to the gym with us as well, he has become a real porker getting three meals a day”. Beansy waved his middle finger at both of them, as they all laughed. “Extra cushion for the pushin with the ladies” Beansie said.

The bus pulled off the highway, all twelve boys were staring out the windows, admiring, ooing and ahhing at the magnificent hills and majestic trees rushing by, feeling the first sweet sensations of freedom, since being locked up, all those years ago. Even Kurt, known in the prison as “the big man”, peered outwards and said “Aint that something lads, nature is beautiful”.

After what seemed like an eternity of driving through silent, spacious and deserted wilderness they came upon a forest road, winding its way through some of the thickest woodland they’d ever seen, and finally deposited them in a wide clearing, in which a very old, and very creepy cabin consumed everyone’s attention. They all stared transfixed at the cabin, as if it had its own gravitational field, pulling you towards it, with relentless ferocity. “Right, you bunch of degenerates, off the bus, grab your luggage and wait for Mr Flow Infront of the cabin. He is in charge for the next two weeks, and if we receive any, and I mean any complaints, no matter how trivial, you will be back in your cells with no chance of parole for at least another year.” The lads respected Gary, he was okay, for a screw. Gary laid a hand on Kurt’s shoulder as he began descending the steps. “Kurt, look after them. They look up to you. You out of everyone have the most to lose if this goes wrong”. Kurt’s eyes narrowed and hardened, before understanding dawned “Sure Gary, your right, I don’t want to go back to that place. I’ll keep them in line. And thanks mate, you’re not such a bad guy.” Gary patted him on the back and wished him well, before giving him a friendly push down the steps.

The lads piled off the bus, most of them with as much enthusiasm as a half-baked lasagne, grabbed their belongings, and stood at the bottom of six grubby steps leading up to a large and battered wooden door. Years of neglect, strong winds and well, lots of time, had not been kind to this particular door, which was now all nails, holes and what might have been varnish many centuries ago. A few of the older boys stared at the nails, with the same trepidation a pensioner looks upon the snow, and wished they had of accepted the free medical that came with a tetanus shot. The door was thrown open and clattered against the front wall, revealing a short, rotund but altogether rather jolly looking fellow, who proclaimed in a loud and authoritative voice “Hello and welcome boys, I am Mr Flow, your chief counsellor”.

Mr Flow was dressed in light brown khaki pants and a mustard T-shirt. He wore white adidas trainers partnered with white ankle socks. He grinned down at them, and although he was barely five feet tall, he seemed to loom menacingly taller, towering above them. Kurt, Deso and Beansie looked at each other, struggling to withhold the laughter that was just itching to burst out. Hard to say exactly what was going on with Mr Flow that was causing the three of them to not take him seriously. It could have been the baked beans stain on his t-shirt or possibly the fact that to them, he resembled some sort of pre-pubescent peter parker and if this was high school, they would shortly be stuffing him into a toilet bowl head first. Kurt nudged Deso and leaned in close to whisper “Check out this guy. Only thing flowing about him, is the junk food into his mouth”. Deso sniggered and said “half his breakfast is on his T-shirt, what a twat”. Beansie was struggling to keep it together and could only manage, “Fat stumpy bastard”. They could no longer contain it, and let out wild whoops of laughter that reverberated off the hills and startled the local wildlife. Mr Flow made his way down the steps, glaring at them yet simultaneously maintaining a friendly and jolly look. The result was both frightening and disconcerting. It was a look that said, “I might look soft and cuddly, but I’m not, I really really am not’. By the time he made it down the steps, he lost whatever strange aura of power he had had and just looked like a short, wimpy blob of a middle-aged man that was almost two feet shorter than Kurt, and painted a proper David and goliath scenario. He stared up intently at Kurt and spoke loud and clear so everyone heard him “Ahhhh Kurt, the class clown. Everyone has one eh, and I’m very pleased to meet you. His mocking tones were unmistakeable. “What was it again, ah yes, murder. The gravest of all sins. Your father as well, how tragic”. Kurt’s face was now a steely frozen look of utter hatred and rage. His fists balled as his shoulder went to launch a left hook with missile like precision. Deso grabbed Kurt’s arm and said, “come on mate, calm down, it’s not worth it”. Calm was not something that Kurt understood. He had been born into a world of violence and had killed his father, whilst protecting his mother from one of his drunken rages when he was eighteen years old. Telling Kurt to calm down, was akin to asking a volcano on the cusp of erupting, if it wouldn’t mind keeping the noise down and perhaps stand in the naughty volcanoes corner until it had thought about what it had done. To everyone’s astonishment, especially his best friends, Kurt immediately relaxed, stared back at Mr Flow and replied: “Good to meet you too sir, class clown at your service”. Mr Flow made his way back up the steps to his original position, turned around, glared at Deso, Kurt and Beansie and said “by the way boys its tomato soup on my T-shirt and not beans”. His eyes lit up menacingly for just a moment before turning back to address the rest of the group: “Okay everyone, inside the cabin and choose a room. Please get changed into your camp uniforms before joining me at the fire round the back of the cabin at sunset. Have a look around and try not to get lost in these woods, the wolves are out. As the nine youths followed Mr Flow into the cabin, Kurt held out an arm to stop Deso and Beansie from following. They knew what he was going to say, because it was giving them trouble as well. In-fact it was positively scaring three shades of shit out of them. Deso looked at his friends, “How did he hear the baked beans comment, he was thirty feet away and we were whispering.” “I have no idea bro, but no one could have heard that. Kurt said. Beansie had his hands in his pocket and was poking at a stick with his toes. “Hearing aid?” He said, with a little grin. They all burst out laughing before heading into the cabin.

The group went about their business of rooming up, chatting about what they were going to do on the outside. Deso picked up the camp uniform that was neatly folded on his bed, and stared at it in sheer disgust. “He is having a laugh with this! you’d think we were in the girl scouts. Beansie put the mustard T-shirt on, folded it up into a crop top, put on what he thought was a sexy ladies voice and said “Oh Deso, you look so handsome, come give me a kiss”. Kurt walked in at the last moment and saw Beansie with his eyes closed, pouting at Deso. “Do you two need a minute”. They hit the floor laughing. Kurt dived onto his bunk, lay back and stared at the ceiling. He was starting to feel good; the end was in sight. Just deal with two weeks of this crap and he would be a free man. But something about Mr Flow was eating away at his subconscious. How in god’s green earth had he heard them whispering, it was borderline supernatural.

Mr Flow had a roaring fire going on by the time they all assembled and sat on the logs that had been carved into benches around the fire pit. He was full of energy, snapping sticks across his knees and preparing larger logs for when the flames died down. The moon hung lazily in the sky, like a cat taking a nap. The stars were out, twinkling like fireflies. Mr Flow addressed everyone. I thought we would kick off this little adventure of ours with a good old fashioned ghost story!” He bobbed up and down with excitement, clapping his hands together like a seal. There was a mixed bag of responses from “fuck off” to “is he serious” and “I’d rather go “back to prison”.

Kurt pulled out a bag of marshmallows. “Where did you get those you rascal” Deso asked. “Kitchen of course, nothing is locked here, cupboards are stuffed full of treats, clearly Mr Flow’s private stash”. Beansie’s eyes glowed. “Awesome Kurt, you rock”. Deso chipped in: Let’s see how many of these we can stuff into Beansie’s mouth before he passes out.

That’s 1!

Mr Flow began: A very long time ago there was a ferocious battle around here. One evening a soldier found himself on the brink of starvation. He was covered in three layers of blood. His own, his comrades and the blood of his enemies.

That’s 2!

He had begun gathering firewood when he was stopped in his tracks by a soft, low whelping sound. He tilted his head and allowed his ears to take him to the source of the sound. After a few minutes, he knelt, parted the long grass and found two small wolf cubs.

That’s 4!

The two cubs looked well fed, with plenty of meat on their bones. Drawing his knife, he slit their throats, held them by their tales and threw them over his shoulder, blood splattering on and all around him.

Not far away a mother wolves ears pricked up, sensing something was very wrong. Dropping the dead buck on the ground, she ran lightning fast to the spot where she had left her two precious cubs, and found nothing but bits of fur, blood and footsteps.

That’s 5!

Beansie’s cheeks started filling out, making him look like a hamster.

The wolf threw her head back and let out a cry of anguish and rage. The moon watched and felt pity for her. She followed the trail of blood and entrails, saliva dripped down her razor-sharp fangs, her temples filled with a terrible throbbing pain. And then she saw him…. And them, dangling over his shoulder, their cut throats dripping out the last of their life blood. Her body quivered with love…. And Revenge.

That’s 6!

“Aww man he is going to puke soon!”

Mr Flow, paused for a moment to see what was going on, but it was too dark and so he cleared his throat and continued.

7!

The Wolf crept up behind the soldier, as silent as a caterpillar wearing slippers. The soldier was so engrossed in the skinning process and the fact that he was going to eat, he wouldn’t have heard an elephant approach. He tossed the skin of one of the cubs behind him, blood splattering onto the nose of its mother. She leapt and sunk her teeth into his shoulder, latching on with the power of a vice and with teeth as sharp as a saw. The soldier screamed. He tried to shake her off, but it was no use, she held on like a leech and quickly drained his energy and his will to live.

8! “Oh man we better stop, he is turning purple, Kurt”.

The soldier dropped to his knees, then onto his back and fainted. When he regained consciousness, and opened his eyes, he found his gaze was met by that of an old woman, in a dark cloak, who’s eyes lit up like a cat in headlights. “Am I dead”, He managed to croak out through lips drier than an Arabs sandal. She moved her head back and forth in an almost crow like fashion, studying him with those eyes. Eyes that seemed to look into his soul. He felt pure panic and wished he were dead. “No, you’re not dead. But my cubs most certainly are and they were no regular cubs, but Lycans. Death for you would be far too lenient a punishment for killing the last two in these lands”. The soldier stared at her in utter confusion. “What the devil are you talking about woman!” I’ve laid a curse on thee; at every full moon you will change into a creature born of man and beast. Your bones will crack, your skin will be torn and you will feast on the blood of your own kind. At that moment the soldier passed out once more, and when he awoke, she was gone and his wound was miraculously healed.

Beansie’s face had turned beetroot He looked like he was going to implode. he began to claw wildly at his throat. “Shit” was all Deso could manage. Beansie hit the deck. Kurt was pounding on his belly, while Deso was trying to prise his mouth open to scoop the marshmallows out of his mouth and throat, and to everyone’s horror pinched his nose to achieve this. “Don’t hold his nose you idiot, he can’t breathe as it is”. Screamed Mr Flow. “Get out of the way everyone”. Mr Flow Pushed his way through the crowd and began pumping Beansie’s stomach in a precise and rhythmical fashion. After several seconds, Beansie erupted like a volcano. violently ejecting the marshmallows ten feet into the air and spraying everyone with vomit. Beansie sat up straight, produced his usual cheeky little grin and said “Thought I was a goner lad’s. Passed out at the bit where the old hag cursed the soldier. What happened to him, Mr Flow”. “Oh, and how many did I get Kurt?”. Everyone was laughing except Mr Flow. He was angrier than a hornet’s nest. He stood up and pointed a quivering, podgy finger at Kurt, Deso and Beansie. With a tone that could cut steel, he said. “You want to know what happens next eh” His face changed, his eyes glowed red hot and he looked like a maniac. “The solider turns into a savage beast and he eats people. Yes, he tears people limb from limb, in a blood thirsty rage, that can never be quenched. Men, woman, children and lads, lads just like you”. Mr Flow seemed to become drunk, his voice climbing in incremental octaves, losing control, becoming psychotic and the way he started licking his lips when he spoke about blood was positively disturbing. ‘For centuries he has roamed the wilderness on the full moon, hunting his victims, peeling the flesh off their backs and sucking the marrow from between the bones’. He started gnawing at mid-air, like a rat, making little tututut noises. Finally, he started to regain his composure and realised what he was doing. The boys were all staring at each other, lost for words. As usual Kurt, Deso and Beansie were holding back laughter. Beansie burped, sending more marshmallow down his chin. Laughter erupted all around as they stood there in the dark with a dwindling fire beside them. “Sir, are you okay?” Kurt said. “You kinda lost your shit”. He started imitating his little rat gestures”. “I’m fine”. Mr Flow snarled. “Everyone, get to your beds now”.

The boys were shooting some hoops around the side of the cabin, the crazy happenings of the previous night forgotten. They were criminals after all and had done and seen far stranger things. Kurt was currently unbeaten at one on one and they were all getting tired. “Gary, come on, let’s go one more round” “Na Kurt, your too big, too fast and too strong”. “Deso, what about you?”. “No chance big man, I’m flat out here” Deso replied. “I’ll take some of that action…. Biiiig man”. It was Mr Flow! Only today he was sporting a very different look. He wore ripped denim shorts, a white vest and was wearing shades. “WTF” Beansie said, chuckling. The rest of the group were equally taken aback by his new get up. “Come on old man, you’ll have a heart attack”. Kurt said with a huge smirk on his face, as he threw the ball at Mr Flow. Mr Flow caught the ball, dribbled as skilfully as Michael Jordan, rushed towards the net with bullet like speed, knocking Kurt flat on his ass, and slam dunked the ball. Mr Flow swaggered over to Kurt, offered him a hand and wrenched him back on his feet.

Back in the cabin, Kurt was pacing back and forth as Deso and Beansie sat on the edge of their beds. Kurt spoke: “Something ain’t right here lads. I’m telling you, that Mr Flow is not normal. The guy is barely five feet tall and plumper than a roast turkey, but it felt like I got hit by a train when we collided. He was all muscle and harder than a coffin nail!” “Not to mention he made a slam dunk, guys that old and that size can hardly touch their toes, never mind jump ten feet”. Deso said. “Maybe he played back in college and was really athletic”. Beansie chipped in. Kurt stared at Beansie and replied “are you serious man, the guy is five feet tall!”. “Okay, point taken”. Beansie said and stared at the floor. Deso looked at Kurt, Kurt looked at Deso, as if they had just shared the same epiphany. “No way, can’t be, are you thinking what I’m thinking Kurt stammered” his eyes becoming wild and wide open. “I think I am”. The three of them huddled conspiratorially. Deso began. “Mr Flow is the soldier in his story, he is the werewolf”. Beansie started to giggle, but Kurt shot him a look, and he immediately shut his mouth and fell silent. Kurt nodded at Deso. “Ten points buddy. Deso continued: “that day he heard us speaking from thirty feet away, advanced senses”. “Yeah, and he has superhuman strength”. Kurt said. “And the way he lost it last night. “I think you guys are onto something.” Beansie said, shaking his head in disbelief”. Kurt began pacing again. It all makes sense. That’s why he is running these camps. Getting a bunch of low life criminals with a history of drugs. We are paranoid, no mobile phones and no one to believe us”. Kurt said. Deso nodded. Kurt became enraged, “The sly prick, telling us that story, rubbing it into our faces”. Beansie was holding the pamphlet to the camp and mumbling something: “woolvv, flow, mister wollffvvv”. “What the hell are you saying Beansie”. Deso shrieked. Beansie swallowed and cleared his throat, held the pamphlet up and pointed. “Mr Flow, it’s Wolf backwards!”.

The boys rushed out and made for Mr flows room, intent on getting some clarification before warning the rest of the group.

Mr Flow was undressing. The full moon was only a few hours away, and the fur had started to appear on his legs. He stepped into the shower. Kurt tried the door handle, they held their breathes as it twisted in his hand, and the door slowly opened inwards. “We only have a few minutes before he comes out, look fast and be quiet!”. Kurt whispered”. Mr Flow dragged the razor up his shin and the removed a layer of fur, before slipping the shower curtain to one side, and tossing it out onto the bathroom floor. The three lads saw it land with a sicking thwack onto the tiles. Beansie pointed at the wall. Following his finger led their gaze to a calendar on the wall, today’s date was circled. As they read the two words on the calendar, the colour in their faces drained and they became as white as snow. It said: FULL MOON.

They almost jumped out of their skins when they heard another sick and maddening THWACK in the bathroom. They spun around to see another mound of dark brown wet fur splattered on the tiles. Mr flow had now parted the shower curtain enough for them to get a look at his back, as he washed himself. They made for the door as quickly and as quietly as possible, unable to forget what they had just seen. Teeth marks, embedded deep in his flesh, on the back of his shoulder.

Outside, they sprinted towards the cabin to warn the others. As they approached, they heard the first blood curling scream, before several other cries of torment, anguish and terror followed. As they approached the door, the screams ended as abruptly as they had begun. The door flew open and Andrew collided with them. He was missing one arm. Blood poured out of the socket where his arm had connected to his torso, a look of pure horror darned his twisted face, which was set in a grimace of indescribable pain. He clutched his stomach with his one and only hand. The boys looked down just in time to see a kidney plop out, and land on Beansie’s foot. The room sounded quiet enough, they were desperate to get out of the chilly night air. Beansie puked as soon as he saw first severed head and was unconscious by the time, he had spotted several more, along with multiple limbs and a few eye balls dotted around the room, like ornaments. Someone had painted the roses red. Blood spattered the walls and was dripping down onto the beds, where dismembered bodies lay. The white bed sheets were soaked with blood. On the various body parts strewn around, teeth and claw marks were evident. Mr Flow had gone berserk. Every footstep resulted in a disgusting squelch, squelch sound as they walked on a floor that appeared to be a giant wet sponge. The whole scenario was made far more sickening when Deso flicked on the light and they realised the squelching sound, was being made from them wading through fresh, wet entrails and various organs, not of the musical instrument variety.

Kurt shouted at them “I spotted a shed earlier, there have to be some weapons in it we can use”. They managed to get Beansie back on his feet and bolted for it, almost tripping and landing in the sea of blood and entrails. They were now in survival mode, as the adrenaline coursed through their veins. Beansie felt like his heart was going to explode. Kurt hadn’t felt this sort of rage since the night he killed his father. Deso spotted the look in his eyes, and it gave him hope. Kurt’s foot went clean through the rotted old shed door. He pulled it back through and then rammed it into the frame at the hinges. The door splintered and caved inwards. Kurt picked up a huge log splitting axe, Deso a two by four and Beansie stood with a trowel. “What you going to do with that, plant him to death Beansie”. Kurt asked. They giggled. He tossed it to the side and picked up a claw hammer. “that’s more like it, now let’s go put this feral fucker down”. Kurt said.

Mr Flow, now eight feet tall with muscles as full as potato sacks stalked the grounds, looking for the last three of his victims. He was picking shards of bone, strips of flesh and a few fingers out of his mouth. His fur, slick with blood glistened in the moonlight.

The lads made it back to their room. I’ve got an idea” Deso said. “it’s the oldest trick in the book, but it’s all I can think of at this time. He took a few pillows and positioned them on one of the beds and then pulled the sheet up to make it look like someone was sleeping. “You’re joking right”. Kurt said. “You got a better idea”. “Yeah, I do, let’s get the fuck out of here”. Beansie said. “SHHHHHHHH” Deso whispered as he waved them into the cupboard, “he’s coming. We won’t have much time, but when he goes for that bed, we attack.

They heard Mr Flow break down the cabin door, his footsteps heavy, causing the floor to vibrate with every purposeful step. He was high from the massacre and had murder on his mind. He had been wanting to murder these three little shits from the moment he saw them. It was this rage that would be his downfall, for if he had only taken his time and paid attention to the bloody footsteps that led into the cupboard. Instead, he lurched at the bed, swiping his massive paw where he presumed one of the boy’s bellies would be. He clipped the pillow and instead of the blood he was anticipating, feathers erupted into the air, and sauntered down like snowflakes. The trio were out the cupboard in an instant and fell upon him with furious vengeance.

Beansie tripped and landed on his knees, but had enough time to raise the claw hammer and bring it down with full force, onto the werewolf’s foot. It howled in pain, as the bones shattered and the toes were smashed to pulp. At just about the same time, Deso swung the two by four around, in a perfect arc and caught him on the side of the head. It made a sickening meaty sound and one of the wolf’s eyes was jolted half out of the socket, as it sank to its knees. As Beansie got back to his feet, he felt a searing pain on his thigh. Mr Flow had swiped at him and had torn his flesh. He felt warm blood cascade down his shins and seep into his socks. He passed out, again. Mr Flow was stunned as Kurt stepped up to him. The axe held firmly at his side, his vision was set in a look of rage, anger and eerie satisfaction. He raised the axe high above his head, and then brought it down and round. The axe went clean through the wolf’s neck, severing the head. It bounced and rolled under one of the beds, blood spurting out like a geyser. The boys huddled together for a moment. “Come on, let’s get out of here, we better get our story straight for when someone turns up. Kurt said.

When the police were finally done with their questions and had loaded what remained of the bodies onto the bus. They ushered Deso, Kurt and Beansie onboard. The driver got out of his seat and jogged over to one of the officers. The boys, sat always at the back of the bus looked out. “Wonder what they are speaking about”. Kurt said. After a few moments, Beansie spoke. “Oh, the driver just wanted to know where he was to take us, before dropping of the bodies. And where the best place to stop for a sandwich was”. Kurt and Deso stared at each other in horror as Beansie stared out the window. “How do you know that; this is bullet proof glass. Two inches thick”. Deso said, his voice quivering. Beansie looked at his friends, a murderous grin across his face. “I heard them didn’t I”.

OWW OWWW OWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO