The Inevitable War: The Monster Book 2

By Grant Ayers

About the Book
As the master of the gold enchantment and the second son of King Ri of the War Clan, the mighty Doentas spends his days fighting, drinking, and training with his friends. His world shatters one day when he learns that his father and brother, Ceart, heir to the throne, have died in battle. Now the rightful king of the War Clan, Doentas must face a challenge to his throne as the other clans take advantage of the inexperienced king. As the clans settle their differences, a new threat arises from the heavens that threatens all of humanity.
The Inevitable War shows how a man, newly bestowed with the burdens of leadership, tackles his fears and takes on incredible obstacles for his family, his friends, and his people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Jan 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889256069

Book preview

Chapter 1

A Row of Terrible Tragedies

My name is Gareth Moon, and I’ve known that I was a monster since I was conceived. I know this because my family has been cursed ever since they had me. When I was around five years old, my mom and dad were killed by a random goon. I never really knew my parents and after their deaths, I had to live with my Aunt Lizzy.

She could barely tell me anything about them, so I had to grow up without a real mother or father figure in my life. I lived with my aunt until I turned eighteen and had to leave after she died of an unfortunate heart attack. The landlord kicked me out, so I had to live in an alleyway during my last year of high school.

I go to Ravenhood High School, and the bullying is tense. I am always the target of bullying and have been ever since I told my ex-best friend, Jared Hallet, about my dire situation. Jared and I used to have fun together in elementary, but that all changed after his dad died from an animal attack. Since then, Jared has been bullying me for reasons I don’t know. And it pisses me off on a whole other level.

Today I am at this putrid jail of a school, opening my blue metallic locker to get my used psychology books. Jeremy Kurts (the school’s sexual harasser and one of Jared’s new friends) walks behind me and puts his ghoulish hand on my shoulder. I barely have a chance to process his touch before he roughly drags me around to face his long nose and shit-brown eyes.

Hey, little punk, how you doing? Jeremy asks creepily. Jeremy ain’t that much more robust than me, but he picks on me because he knows that he can get away with it.

I gulp down my fear. The whole emotion feels like a cancerous lump as it goes down.

I am d-doing just- I stutter nervously. My hands are shaking. I don’t know if it’s because I want to punch him or hold them up and block an incoming punch.

I don’t really care, but I do want you to turn around as slowly as possible and don’t make a disruption, okay? Jeremy rudely interrupted. His eyes dart left to right down the student-filled hallways.

I saw him messing around with his bronze belt buckle as I turned around. I knew what he was about to do, and I didn’t want it to happen. But I’m scared that if I lay a finger on him, Jared will attempt to slit my throat again. The sensation of the scar twitches, bringing me back to that time, and before I know it, I’m quivering in terror.

As I heard Jeremy’s belt drop, I turned around and struck him in his big, long nose with my fist. Jeremy fell to the floor, flailing around like an infant and screaming profanities. I leapt on top of him and started punching him across his face as I pinned his arms beneath my legs. Jeremy’s face was bloody, but I felt no guilt run over me; just the feeling of fear for what Jared was going to do to me for standing up for myself.

Students circled us, telling Jeremy that he should get up and kick my ass. Cheering and pointing their dirty fingers at me. Then others are telling me to get off and let Jeremy show me what he has in store, but I don’t care to find out. I just want him to never touch me or hurt me again.

I kept punching until another student strikes my face, forcing me to tumble off Jeremy. As that kid helped Jeremy up, I felt the blood from my lips drip down my chin. I stand up and get in what I believe is a boxer stance and get ready for Jeremy and that other kid. I don’t know how to professionally fight. But looking at these two morons, I don’t think I’ll need it. Strangely, the kid that helped Jeremy up wore a black hoodie over his face so that I couldn’t see who he was. What a sneaky bastard.

Jeremy ran up to me, and as I was about to strike out at him, my body suddenly froze up. It was like my whole body was in shock. Jeremy knocked me to the ground with one solid punch that hurt like hell. Jeremy and that kid started to punch and kick me while I was on the floor. Each kick and blow was extremely bitter as it started to draw blood. Then with one solid punch to my jaw, I was knocked out.

•••

I wake up in the nurse’s office, the nurse sitting right across from me, reading her book like always. I put my hands around my bruised torso in pain. Grunting, I press harder.

Ma’am, should I get up and go back to my classes now? I ask monotonously.

The nurse closed her book, the pages slamming together quite loudly. Yeah, but please don’t get hurt again, okay? she said with a fake smile.

Sure, I said grimly. That nurse is just as bad as the others. She doesn’t care about the students, and she doesn’t do her job as an adult should. Then again, how the hell would I know that? I didn’t know my parents; the aunt that I had lived with was much like the nurse here – neglectful and uncaring.

I was pleased that the school day was almost over, but I kept on getting death glares from the other students, making it impossible to be truly happy. Like that was ever a choice. I should be more disappointed, but this school has lowered my expectations.

During the last period, we all sat in our plastic blue chairs and stared up at the fat teacher that we call Mr. Lard. He was an older, balding man in his late fifties. He wore lame Christmas sweaters year-round. He kind of deserved the little humiliation that floated his way.

That freak back there, I heard he got his ass handed to him by Jeremy. And get this…Shawn Burganey. That bookworm caused that skeleton harm. What a loser! the jocks in front of me whisper.

Shawn was one of the smartest kids in our school. He has never really been involved in conflict before, other than being Jeremy’s get-out-of-jail-free card when Jeremy sexually harasses another student. Only proves my conscience is right for thinking that this is a shit school.

I didn’t have time to listen in more due to the teacher picking me to answer some random algebra questions. The poor luck of the draw. I stand and answer the question perfectly. Algebra is beneath me. I should be in college courses, but not even the school counselor wants to speak with me. According to this dumpster fire of a school, I’m what they labeled ‘potentially dangerous.’ For good reason, I suppose, but I hate hearing about it all the time. I wish the teachers here would open their eyes to all the bullying happening here.

•••

After school I was walking back to my dirty alley, seeing all of the beautiful skyscrapers and brick housing complexes. The beautiful, bright blue sky almost made me forget about my black eye and broken ribs.

I reached home – the alley. Its filthy walls bring me disappointment as I stare at them. But it was all that I had. A cardboard box and a couple of lines of wire strung up to hang my dirty clothes. Hard to find a shower here in the city. I must smell like puke to others.

My alley is right next to a clothes shop and a fast food restaurant. I came and stayed here for a while because I wanted fresh food at the end of the day and clothes that didn’t stink. I either ate out of the dumpster or shoplifted a few pairs of clothes. Thankfully, the owners of both of these places let me do this, but I have to wait until there are no people in the store or the owners get in trouble of some sort.

The owner of the clothes shop is Mrs. Gurdy, and she takes pity on me. She’d be pissed if she found out I had to steal her key to the clothes shop so that I don’t freeze during the winter. Her husband, Mr. Gurdy, the owner of the fast food restaurant, leaves me the leftovers that he would have thrown out anyway.

Even though I know these people care for me, they don’t want to care for me. For this reason, I still feel lonely and depressed. It was around five, so I couldn’t go into either one of the buildings. To pass the time I decided to go to the park. It’s normally calm there. A little sanctuary of quiet and a bit of peace.

When I got to the park I saw the same old thing. One rusty swing set and a wooden bench that was already crowded with people (most likely drug dealers) that I didn’t recognize. But still, I wished to go somewhere else more peaceful than here. So I got on one of the swings and started swinging on it. I know that it must look childish, seeing a legal adult enjoy themselves as they float away and try to find their happy place. Hell, I’ve been looking for that for years. And yet…nope. I have to be judged by the lowest of people. Their drugs pollute the air that I breathe, but no…my steps are more toxic. According to all those FUCKS at school, that’s the case.

I closed my eyes and felt as if I were flying through the air, leaping buildings in one bound. It calms me to feel like a superhero flying through the sky. The wind hit my face as I felt the g-force putting pressure on my chest. It was very serene. Doing this makes me feel more human than at other times at school when I feel like a complete monster.

People avoid me because Jared kept on spreading rumors that I was cursed and that I was the reason my family died one by one.

My mind then puts me back to a couple of years ago, the kids who surrounded me and treated me like their friends slowly disappear one by one.  Jared, with his bucktooth face,  whispered and sometimes declared it out right that whoever was around me was cursed to die like my parents. Their stares and their taunts still haunt me to this day. I can still hear their snarky quips. They always had to strike a nerve and cripple my emotions.

Even in high school, people avoid me, and I haven’t gotten a chance to make other friends. Thanks to Jared, I don’t know if I am a monster or not, and now other people don’t know if I’m one either. Do you know how that feels? To be the one to be last picked? Or better yet, the one that doesn’t get picked at all!? Of course, there are those who have it worse. Others probably feel the same as I do. After all, I have the common sense to see that. But it doesn’t stop the feelings from hurting all the same. I feel betrayed, like at any moment I’m going to go flying into a brick house and have all of my bones crushed to dust. They’d all be fucking happy that I died!

When I opened my tear-filled eyes I saw that the strangers were looking at me as if they had just spotted a freak. I guess that is what happens when you see an eighteen-year-old swinging all by himself with his eyes closed and crying. Shit, if only they heard my thoughts. Then their stares would be justified at least.

I got off of the swing and started to walk back to my alley. Didn’t want to be noticed and killed by some drug dealers. All of them look like they meant business, with their tattooed bodies and their black leather jackets.

•••

On the way back, I suddenly stopped right outside of a blue house because I heard an older couple begin to argue. It was funny to see them. The old man, who looked to be in his seventies, was outside on his porch yelling at the old woman. He was wearing a white tank top and brown coveralls, waving his cane in the air.

Why don’t you go and kill yourself, you old wench! the old man angrily shouts.

The older woman stood in the doorway to hide behind the screen door for protection. Get away from me, you lunatic! she yelled in a raspy voice.

At the same time, they both seemed to notice my presence. "What do you want?!" the man bellowed. They looked furious that I had witnessed their drama. It scared me a bit to be the center of attention. It was so easy to forget my own existence sometimes. I looked away and kept walking with my head down.

I will never stop drinking, you old, nasty bitch! the old man shouts.

Then this is goodbye, The old woman replied evenly. That is all I could hear as I continued to walk back to my alley.

•••

As I got back to my alley, I saw that Mrs. Gurdy was waiting for me with a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt in her frail old arms. Her white hair is all messy from working today. Her own shoes are all torn up, yet she holds up the brand new clothes in her arms for me. This woman truly is my savior. Tears almost flood my vision as I walked up to her.

Gareth, I know that you were only defending yourself, but I was paid to not let you ever use my store as a free place to live. A-and the same goes for Mr. Gurdy. She had a look of great sorrow on her face as she said this.

She hands me the clothes as tears roll down her face. She then reached into her pocket and pulled out a few hundred dollar bills and says, Sorry, Gareth, but this is all I have to spare. Please don’t waste it. She hugs me, and I hug her back. I felt her tears hit my shoulder as she kept hugging me.

I kept silent, trying to hold back my own. After a few minutes, she let go and walked back into her shop. The thought of her abandoning me is a hard pill to swallow, but I have to go on with the fact that this was most like an inevitable situation. The only thing that I can’t understand is who would pay her for such a thing? Did their...landlord? I wish I had a clue about basic economics.

•••

I decided to walk to a motel and spend the night there. When I got there it was around midnight, but it was worth it. The motel was called the Springs Motel, and it wasn’t the prettiest of places. A few windows were broken and hell, some rooms didn’t even have doors. I walked in and saw a skinny white female working there.

How much will it be to rent out a room for a week? I ask.

For a decent room, you would have to pay $287 to book a week-long stay, she said cheerfully. I could tell that her whole attitude was fake. Something that she had to do for the job. I guess fake politeness was better than none.

I looked at how much Mrs. Gurdy gave me. I had about five hundred on me, so I gave the woman three hundred dollars. She gave me thirteen dollars back and then handed me a pair of keys. Have a good week, sir. You’re in room thirteen.

Thank you, ma’am, I said politely. The money that Mrs. Gurdy gave me was already being blown. Tears begin to form as I exit the front office.

I walked down a terribly lit hallway until I was standing in front of an old red door that had the number thirteen on it. I unlocked the door and walked into the room. The door creaks as I close it behind me. I saw one white bed with white covers and red pillows. There was a closet with no door and a dresser with a cracked flat-screen television on top of it, along with its dirty remote. I had no backpack with me, just a few pieces of clothes that Mrs. Gurdy had given me in the past. I put them down inside the closet and then sat on the corner of the bed. I looked down at my feet as I pondered what the heck was going on.

I can’t believe that Mrs. Gurdy didn’t want me in her store anymore, but another thing that I still can’t accept is that someone PAID her to do that! I pulled out the money and her keys as I reached into my pockets. I forgot to give her back her keys. I am such an idiot. I will have to give them back to her tomorrow. It’s the least that I can do.

I stood up and went towards the bathroom, which was by the closet. Everything in the tiny bathroom was white except for the towels and soap. Those were blue. I stood over the sink and looked into the dirt-covered mirror. I needed a haircut. My black hair was growing too long.

I pulled open the drawers and rummaged around until I pulled out a pair of black scissors. I cut my hair until it was short enough for me. Not so long that it’s in my brown eyes, but not too short to consider it a bowl cut. In other words, the perfect messy cut. I chuckle to myself about this thought.

I hopped in the shower and scrubbed off the filth that covered my body. I finally felt clean, for once in a blue moon. The blood, dirt, and hair mixed with the water as it all washed back down into the pipes. I wince at the little pain that came when the water hits my wounds. But it was great to wash up.

I stepped out of the shower and slipped on the new clothes from Mrs. Gurdy. It was a normal black t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. After I was dressed, I covered up under the blankets and went to sleep.

When I awoke, I looked at the stupid alarm clock that was also standing on top of the old, beaten dresser. My stomach growled. It was three hours before school started, so I got up and left for school even though I didn’t want to.

When I got to this horrid place they call school, I was an hour early, so I went to the dining hall and ate breakfast there. There were kids, but none who really noticed me with my new haircut. I ate what the breakfast ladies gave me. They gave me a crunchy red apple, plain white bread, a carton of milk, and a tin foil-wrapped breakfast burrito.

Eating each of these items brought me nothing. Their tastes all melt together into one flavorless glob. I’m dissatisfied with this feeling…a feeling that I am used to by now. Food never really was my thing. Not like all these fat kids that sit around and judge me.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The bells go off and everyone gets up and leaves the cafeteria, making a line out the double door. One step after another was becoming unbearable.