The Mallow Marsh Monster Read online

  Text copyright © 2020 by Gary Ghislain

  All rights reserved. Copying or digitizing this book for storage, display, or distribution in any other medium is strictly prohibited.

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, please contact [email protected].

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Boyds Mills Press

  An imprint of Boyds Mills & Kane, a division of Astra Publishing House

  boydsmillspress.com

  ISBN 9781629796789

  Ebook ISBN 9781635923971

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019950727

  First edition

  Book design by Barbara Grzeslo, adapted for ebook

  a_prh_5.5.0_c0_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1. What’s in the Box

  2. Doctor Super Strange

  3. Life is Cake

  4. Cryptozoology for Beginners

  5. The Thing from Out There

  6. The Bite

  7. The Monster Within

  8. Save Me from Me

  9. I, Monster

  10. Mirror, Mirror

  11. Monster Trap

  12. Chasing Suzie

  13. The Mallow Marsh Monster

  14. A Pact in the Wind

  15. Doom Island

  16. No Way Out

  17. Back from Beyond

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For Ilo, Sisko, and Elsa,

  the monster squad inside my heart

  “Sleep my baby,

  Sleep, baby, do!

  The Monster’s coming

  And he will take you.

  Sleep my baby,

  Sleep, baby, do!

  The Monster’s coming

  And he will eat you.”

  Traditional Spanish Lullaby

  1

  WHAT’S

  IN THE

  BOX

  “There’s something strange about this foot.” Frank Goolz poked it with the tip of a pencil.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “It’s detached from its owner. That is pretty strange.”

  “Good point, Harold.” He pushed away the cocoa and coffee cups and threw a dishcloth onto the kitchen table. Using the tip of his pencil and a teaspoon, he carefully removed the foot from the shoebox and set it on its side in the center of the towel.

  Frank Goolz was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair in serious need of a comb or a cut. He was tall and slim and seemed to exist in his own world—except when the ghosties and ghoulies came knocking. As usual, he was wearing a white button-down shirt and black trousers. It was his preferred outfit for both monster-hunting and chillaxing at home.

  Frank Goolz was also a famous author of best-selling horror novels about all manner of beasts: ghosts, zombies, mummies awakened by ancient curses…any nasty thing known to crawl the earth or swim the seas. His books were tomes of terror beloved by millions of readers around the world, including my mum and me.

  Like everyone else, I had assumed these stories were birthed from the mind of a highly imaginative—and possibly batty—author of fiction. But since Frank Goolz and his two daughters had moved into the house next door, I had discovered the truth. His stories, even the most outlandish ones, weren’t fiction at all. They were truthful accounts of his real-life investigations into the paranormal.

  “Do you notice anything else?”

  “Well…it stinks!” Ilona, his older daughter and the most amazing girl in the world, answered, covering her nose with her arm.

  “Agreed,” I said, and did the same with my own arm.

  We were in the Goolz’s kitchen and once again we were dealing with something gruesome. Just days before, we had solved a mystery involving a specter brought into being by an ancient artifact known as the Stone of the Dead. We had put the specter to rest and rescued the two boys it had kidnapped, and for about a nanosecond, life seemed to have gone back to normal. But then the Farrell twins showed up with a severed foot in a shoebox and asked Frank Goolz to help them find their missing mother. At present, they were standing hand in hand in the corner of the kitchen, watching us in a way that made my skin creep.

  He looked up at them. “When did you say she disappeared?”

  “She’s been gone a week—”

  “Almost two.”

  “And Dad’s all alone—”

  “Worrying.”

  “Moaning.”

  “Crying.”

  “All.”

  “The.”

  “Time!”

  Ilona and I exchanged glances. I’d known the Farrell twins were…odd, but I’d never witnessed it. Until today, I’d mostly seen them from a distance. They were a couple of years younger than Ilona and me—maybe nine or ten—and identical from their tight brown ponytails to their matching gray dresses, white tights, and leather lace-up boots. They looked like they had time-traveled from an era when people drove a horse and buggy and lit their homes with candlelight.

  “We don’t know if it’s her foot—”

  “For sure.”

  “Mom’s foot is beautiful.”

  “Mom’s beautiful.”

  “Do you think that’s her foot?”

  “For sure?”

  “Hard to say.” Frank Goolz scratched the stubble on his chin. “Ilo?”

  Ilona’s large brown eyes traveled from the foot to me and finally landed on the twins. She gave them a warm smile. “Let’s hope not. Harold?”

  “What?”

  “Thoughts?”

  I focused on the foot, trying to extract subtle clues that would impress her. The skin was greenish-gray, the toenails black. It stank madly and was swollen like a balloon about to burst.

  “Well, I’m not a severed-foot expert. But that one’s definitely…gross.”

  “Agreed.”

  Ilona Goolz and I were both seventh graders at Bay Harbor Middle School. We had become very fond of each other, which was a normal side effect of spending many nights together defeating a vengeful ghost and undoing an ancient curse. Also, we had kissed. Once. Meaningfully. So, I guess you could say we were kind of an item.

  “Where did you say you found it?” Ilona asked the twins.

  “In the marsh.”

  “By our house.”

  “In the water.”

  “We grabbed it—”

  “With two sticks.”

  “It was very slimy.”

  “Yucky.”

  “Scummy.”

  They finished by speaking as one: “Did the Mallow Marsh Monster do that to our mom?”

  “No way!” I told them.

  I turned to Ilona. “The Mallow Marsh Monster doesn’t exist. It’s a kids’ story.”

  She squinted at me. “Are we talking about some kind of swamp monster?”

  “Yeah. Like a half-lizard, half-human thing. Fairy-tale stuff,” I said, thinking she would join me in declaring that idea bonkers.

  “Harold, swamp monsters are a thing,” she said instead. “Been there, done that.” She nudged her dad. “Remember Carcassonne?”

  “Sure thing, darling. The Carcassonne Creature nearly shredded me to pieces. What a beast!” He laughed, like it was nothing but a fond memory.

  “I don’t know about your carcass-thing,” I told them.

  “Car-cas-sonne,” Ilona corrected me, pronouncing each syllable clearly. “It’s a walled city in Fr
ance.”

  “Well, I’m happy you guys have seen a real swamp monster while holidaying in France, but that’s not the case here. The Mallow Marsh Monster isn’t real. It’s a silly local legend, like our own Bigfoot. But slimier.”

  “Interesting,” Frank Goolz said thoughtfully, apparently ignoring the part about it not being real. “Why do you think the monster has anything to do with your missing mother?”

  We all looked at the foot.

  “Our parents say the monster comes out at night.”

  “To eat people—”

  “And pets.”

  “And we live just by the Mallow Marsh.”

  “It’s still not real,” I insisted. “It’s just a silly folk legend to scare kids.”

  “Tell him about the Carcassonne Creature!” Ilona’s little sister, Suzie, shouted from the hall. She was keeping her distance from the foot, staying close enough to listen in, but far enough away to keep from getting sick. Though she was easily the most intrepid of our outfit, Suzie couldn’t stand the sight of blood or gore. Or severed rotten limbs, as we’d just discovered.

  “We already did!” Ilona shouted back.

  Suzie poked her head into the room and started telling me anyway. “It was a really giant, gooey creature, and it made an awful mess of its victims. Dad? Are we going after another Carcassonne Creature?” she added casually, as if she was asking what was for dinner.

  Me: “No!”

  Ilona: “Maybe.”

  Frank Goolz: “It seems likely.”

  “Cool.” Suzie retreated to the hall. “A swamp monster will be a nice change after all those ghosts and poltergeists.”

  The Goolz sisters couldn’t have been more different. Ilona was composed and focused, while Suzie was explosive and reckless. Ilona was tall and willowy and moved with a cool grace. Suzie was sturdy and compact and zigzagged through life, bumping into objects like an angry bee. Ilona had long, black hair that flowed in the wind. Suzie sported a short, blond, boyish mess. Ilona always wore black dresses, a black coat, and black leather boots, while Suzie was all jeans, worn-out sweaters, and mismatched socks.

  “Ilo, I think I’m going to bar f!” she moaned from the hall. It must not have been a great idea for her to get closer to the foot and the stench emanating from it.

  Ilona left the kitchen to comfort her sister. “You’re going to be fine. Dad just needs to figure this thing out.”

  “We’re almost done here, darling.” Frank Goolz used two teaspoons to flip the foot upright. “Can you take a few pictures with your magic phone?” he asked me.

  None of the Goolz had a cell phone, and Frank Goolz was fascinated by mine. He didn’t seem to realize how commonplace they were.

  I took my phone out of the kangaroo pocket of my hoodie and snapped a few pictures of the foot. On screen, it looked even nastier. “Maybe I should use the flash,” I said. I turned on the flash and took another set of pictures. The result was even more dreadful.

  “Wait a second. Did you see that?” Frank Goolz leaned so close to the foot that his nose almost touched it. “Can you use that light on your phone?”

  I switched on the flashlight and held it over the foot.

  “Amazing!” he said, snatching the phone from me. He moved it as close as possible to the sharp cut above the ankle and used his other hand to press the eraser side of the pencil against the graying flesh. He pushed the pencil into the middle of the cut. “That’s why this foot looks so odd. It’s just skin and flesh.” The pencil slipped deeper inside. My stomach turned, but Frank Goolz looked entranced.

  “The bones are gone,” he said.

  “Gone where?” I asked.

  “Exactly!” He dropped my phone on the table and turned to the twins. “What were you doing in the marsh anyway?”

  “Catching snakes.”

  “We catch them for our parents.”

  “Dad’s a doctor.”

  “And Mom’s a biologist.”

  “They study them—”

  “All. The. Time!” they finished together, then rolled their eyes in synchronized loops.

  I hadn’t known that their parents were scientists, though they did look the part: discreet, bespectacled, and unfashionable, with a touch of nerdy je ne sais quoi.

  I switched off the light on my phone. “Could a doctor or a scientist remove bones from a foot?”

  “Impossible.” Frank Goolz grabbed an empty cup and rolled it over the toes. They were as soft as an empty plastic glove. “Even a skilled surgeon couldn’t do it without damaging it noticeably.” He kept pressing the toes with the cup. “See? No scars, no cuts. This is unbelievable.”

  “Can you help us?” the twins asked.

  “Yes,” Ilona said firmly from the kitchen doorway. “We’re going to help you find your mother.”

  She turned to her father. “Are you going to contact your new best friend, Officer Miller?”

  Officer Miller was the police officer who had interrogated us when we found a dead man in a crab tank. He had a good sense of humor, but he’d definitely wonder why a famous writer, his two daughters, and a boy in a wheelchair had gotten mixed up in another unexplainable, possibly criminal conundrum.

  “This foot defies the laws of science and reality. Officer Miller couldn’t handle it. This is definitely our kind of thing.” He gestured with the teaspoon at himself, me, and Ilona. “And Suzie too,” he added when she harrumphed loudly.

  “Darn straight!” Suzie called from the other room. I felt a pang of pride at the idea that they saw me as a permanent member of their team.

  “Dad doesn’t want us to go to the police, anyway,” one of the twins said.

  “Why?” Ilona asked.

  “He doesn’t trust them.”

  “Or the hospital.”

  “Or anybody in Bay Harbor.”

  “Or television.”

  “Or the gov-ern-ment.”

  “Or anything that comes from Newton.”

  Newton was the closest place to Bay Harbor that you could call a city. It’s where you could find the police precinct, hospital, and mall, and—unlike Bay Harbor—it had more people than seagulls.

  “Your father sounds like a very wise man,” Frank Goolz said. He used the pencil to push the foot back onto its side. “Let’s go talk to him. I just need to do one more thing while the rest of you get ready to go.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked.

  “Just trust me.” He shooed us out of the kitchen and closed the door behind us.

  “What do you think he’s doing?” I asked Ilona as I grabbed my jacket from one of the many unopened crates scattered around the hall. I wondered if the Goolz would ever unpack.

  “No idea.” Ilona picked up a pair of sneakers and handed them to her sister. “We’re going out,” she told her. “Can you handle it?”

  Suzie nodded feebly. She dropped from the crate to the floor to put on her shoes, but then she just stayed there, staring at them helplessly.

  “You’ll feel better as soon as you get some fresh air,” Ilona said, bending to help her.

  A loud THUD came from the kitchen.

  The twins had been standing by the door, quietly watching us.

  “What is he doing to our foot?”

  “It sounds like he’s hammering it.”

  “Bouncing it.”

  “Slapping it.”

  “He’s not going to destroy it—”

  “Is he?”

  “Don’t worry. There’s always a good reason for everything he does, no matter how mad it seems,” I said. I went out to the front porch to wait for them.

  Mum was in our yard, weeding the garden. I waved and she waved back.

  At first, Mum had been thrilled that a famous writer like Frank Goolz had moved in next door. But she soon realized that he was way weird and that his daughters were troublemakers who wouldn’t hesitate to drag me into all sorts of danger. After fetching me from the police station at the end of our first adventure, she’d
imposed a complete embargo. I was to stay away from the Goolz. Forever. Earlier today she’d lifted it partially, and I was now allowed to spend time with them as long as I stayed on our property or theirs.

  “You’re coming home already?” Mum dropped a handful of weeds in her wicker basket.

  “Oh, no, not yet,” I said, looking back into the Goolz’s home. I saw Frank Goolz coming out of the kitchen, carrying the shoebox. The sugary stink of the rotten foot followed him. “Just coming out to say hello. Hello!”

  “Hello.” Mum frowned and tilted her head, waiting for a better explanation.

  I waved awkwardly and flipped my chair around. I went back in the house and closed the door. Ilona had finished lacing her sister’s sneakers and was stepping into her own leather boots. She put on her black coat and added a black beret. She looked very European, a little mysterious, and terribly pretty.

  “We’re using the back door,” I said, already heading that way.

  “Why?” Frank Goolz threw on a black coat and stepped his bare feet into black leather boots.

  “There’s no way Mum will let me leave with you guys.”

  Last time I followed the Goolz past their front gate, I ended up on the wrong side of a shotgun. Mum wasn’t pleased at all.

  I went out the back door and stopped at the top of the steep porch stairs.

  “I need to build another ramp,” Frank Goolz said. He had already built one leading to their front porch, but none of us had anticipated needing a second exit to escape undetected.

  “You sure do, Dad.” Ilona grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and gave me the nicest smile. “I have a feeling this is going to be a regular occurrence.”

  Her dad grabbed the front of my chair to help carry me down. The twins stood at the threshold and watched, probably wondering why we needed to sneak around.

  “We’re weird,” Suzie told them. “Don’t worry about it.” They followed her down the stairs.

  “Mum would literally kill us!” I said as they gently set my chair on the muddy ground. I grabbed my wheels and shot for the back alley, smiling inside at the thought of another adventure with the Goolz.