The Norsemalt Monster

Norsemalt, a quaint little village, exactly 23 kilometers east of Wicklow and 7 kilometers north of nothing.  Known for its spectacular annual Christmas Eve Pageant! and scones, Norsemalt is adored by all of its citizens. It is commonly identified by the people as “the most remarkably normal and exceedingly average village at the top of a cliff you can imagine.” That was, until November 5^th, when that nickname changed to “the most remarkably normal and exceedingly average village at the top of a cliff you can imagine that also had a monster.”

It was almost a regular day.  The satisfying smell of fresh baked scones wafted through the grateful air as the organ in the little white chapel played one of the scene’s music from Christmas Eve Pageant! production.  All the people went about their day in the normal fashion, doing their jobs with either great vigor or melancholy dopiness.  The clouds had begun to gather in anticipation for an overcast downpour, begging the old folks to dawn their sheep’s wool sweaters and rubber boots.  Schoolchildren waited eagerly on the edge of their seat to be dismissed for the evening as they imagined the possibilities that the coming weekend and puddles held.  For two in particular, the thoughts of the weekend adventures were carried into the far reaches of the realms of possibilities, but they never came to the idea of a monster attack on their charming little home.

Charlie and Mary were walking to their homes from school when the rain hit. Instinctively, Charlie gave took off his jacket to cover both his best friend and his head as they began running to escape the building storm.  Before they entered their side by side terraced house, Mary leaned over the railing dividing their doors and invited Charlie to come over, after they had changed their wet clothes, for a board game and tea with leftover cake.  Charlie immediately obliged, anything to delay his impending homework.  They played for a few hours as the storm built into a raging monster. Charlie and Mary looked at each other, almost in anticipation as the largest strike of lightening hit, flicking off the lights of the town.  The two friends laughed a little as the both got up to find the candles and flashlight so they could continue their game.  Charlie strode to the cabinet by the window, opening the door just as a long spike crashed through the glass, piercing the cabinet door, inches from Charlie’s head. Mary let out a little scream while Charlie dropped to the floor in fear of another missile.  When their fear had ceased, Mary and Charlie examined the giant sharp spike and decided to go investigate its origins.  Stepping outside, they found that they were not the only ones who received the gift of needles.  They were everywhere, sticking up from the ground, strewn throughout the street, shish kebobing cars.  The villagers were terrified, coming out of their homes in a panicked fear, not knowing where was safe. Charlie took Mary’s hand and pulled her towards the town square, desperate to find out what was happening.  As they ran, Mary looked around, the feeling that someone, or something, was watching them settling over her.  She asked Charlie about it, just as they heard a scampering behind one of the nearby buildings.  Pushing away their fear, they turned to follow the noise. They ran through the town in the back alleyways and through open streets, until they came to the edge of the cliff.  There, the rain had built up a great fog that was rolling over the cliff’s edge, lighting up with every strike of lightening. That’s when they saw it, crawling out of the fog. It was taller than any building in their town with spike sticking out in every direction and a long snout protruding from its face. Mary turned to look at Charlie in horror. The monster was here.