Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    From $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Facing the Beast Within
    Facing the Beast Within
    Facing the Beast Within
    Ebook283 pages4 hours

    Facing the Beast Within

    By Mark Cheverton

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    NEW FROM INTERNATIONALLY PUBLISHED NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

    Mark Cheverton has written 27 books, with over 2 million copies in print.

    ~ ~ Winner of the Mom's Choice Gold Award

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGameknight Publishing
    Release dateAug 16, 2023
    ISBN9781735878171
    Facing the Beast Within
    Author

    Mark Cheverton

    Mark Cheverton was a high school math and physics teacher for fifteen years. He then moved into industry, working for another decade and a half as a research physicist for General Electric. During that time, he penned his first Minecraft-inspired series of books which ended up on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publisher’s Weekly bestsellers list. Today, he’s written 27 novels with over 2 million copies in print worldwide. When not writing, Mark talks with school kids about creative writing while still doing research at GE.

    Read more from Mark Cheverton

    Related to Facing the Beast Within

    Related ebooks

    Children's Fairy Tales & Folklore For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • UNLIMITED

      Breeze Block

      Aug 3, 2020

      Breeze Block
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Breeze Block

      Jun 25, 2020

      Breeze Block
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Minecraft Dungeons

      Jul 13, 2020

      Minecraft Dungeons
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      What’s Coming In 1.18?

      Aug 12, 2021

      What’s Coming In 1.18?
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Wild Update Latest

      Jan 27, 2022

      Wild Update Latest
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Your Letters!

      Dec 2, 2021

      Your Letters!
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Minecraft Dungeons

      May 7, 2020

      Minecraft Dungeons
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Ask Us Anything

      Nov 4, 2021

      Ask Us Anything
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Minecraft jokes!

      Dec 28, 2023

      Minecraft jokes!
      1 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Win!

      Jan 27, 2022

      Win!
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Top 10 Stadium Builds

      Jan 27, 2022

      Top 10 Stadium Builds
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Redwall

      Aug 14, 2019

      Redwall
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The Warnings of Shinpai

      Jan 1, 2019

      The Warnings of Shinpai
      4 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      CAVES & CLIFFS LATEST

      Jan 28, 2021

      CAVES & CLIFFS LATEST
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Cheats + More!

      Jul 2, 2020

      Cheats + More!
      1 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Seed Spotlight

      Jul 14, 2022

      Seed Spotlight
      1 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      IT’S TRAILS & TALES TIME!

      Jun 15, 2023

      IT’S TRAILS & TALES TIME!
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Ask Us anything

      Dec 28, 2023

      Ask Us anything
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Minecraft In 2021

      Jan 4, 2021

      Minecraft In 2021
      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Build A pirate Ship

      Mar 25, 2021

      Build A pirate Ship
      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Your Letters!

      Jun 15, 2023

      Your Letters!
      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Ask Us Anything

      Jan 27, 2022

      Ask Us Anything
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Ghost In The Machine

      Mar 4, 2021

      Ghost In The Machine
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Minecraft

      Jul 23, 2020

      Minecraft
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Conquer Minecraft Dungeons

      Jun 25, 2020

      Conquer Minecraft Dungeons
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Ultimate Expert Crafting Guide

      Sep 9, 2021

      Ultimate Expert Crafting Guide
      5 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Facing the Beast Within

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Facing the Beast Within - Mark Cheverton

      Chapter 1

      Camp Pontchartrain

      ONE DAY BEFORE THE SUPER BLOOD MOON

      Fear nibbled with sharp teeth on the edges of my soul as I scanned Camp Pontchartrain’s dining hall, looking for the bully who would surely notice me. Fortunately for me, the bullies targeted the art students, a group of girls silently weeping with their heads lowered. Thankfully, they were leaving the Techies, technology kids like me, alone . . . for now.

      I ran my fingers through my brown, curly hair, a self-soothing thing I did when I was nervous, which was a constant state of existence for me. Choosing a corner table, I set my tray down, then checked the seat for the all-too-familiar packets of ketchup or mustard left there to stain the pants of the unwary. Nothing was there this time. I sat and peeled open my grilled ham and cheese, then loaded it with barbecue potato chips and pressed them into the melted cheese. After a sip of apple juice, I took a bite of the sandwich, the barbecue chips delivering a satisfying crunch as I chewed while scanning the room again.

      The walls, adorned in rich, dark wood paneling, and the sturdy hardwood floor stretching from wall to wall gave me the illusion of being nestled within the belly of some gigantic tree monster. A group of bullies laughed and threw French fries at the drama kids, the humiliated victims picking potatoes out of their hair as they kept their heads down, hoping to be spared a second volley. The sea of kids, ages 8 to 18, looked like a patchwork of colors. Each cluster wore their group’s t-shirt, the orange and brown lacrosse team sitting between the yellow and black wrestlers and the black and white chess players. A few kids didn’t wear their team’s jersey and instead wore the dark purple Camp Pontchartrain shirt, a large C and P emblazoned in gold across their chest. They were few in number and quickly learned that the purple shirt made them an easy target. Usually, everyone wore their group’s shirt . . . it’s what we did at Camp Pontchartrain. Sometimes, I thought it provided a little bit of safety, a herd in which the small and weak could hide, but I think it also kept us separated. Isolated groups and cliques had flourished in the camp since my first visit many years ago, dividing the community and creating a fragmented social landscape.

      You know, Cameron, it’s only four days until the annual Colossal Water Fight. Bobby sat down next to me and stuffed a massive spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, brown gravy smudging his cheek. This year, I’m going for a power soaker. I wanna drench people from far away, like the kids from the soccer cabin, before they can get close with their water balloons.

      I ate the last bit of my sandwich and shook my head. You shouldn’t do that, Bobby. They’ll want revenge if you get them too wet.

      I don’t care if I get wet; why should they? It’s a water fight, after all.

      I know. I opened a package of cookies, took a few, and then slid them to my friend. But you need to think carefully. I lowered my voice and scanned the nearby tables, ensuring no bullies could hear. If you get them during the water fight, they’ll torture you afterward. They might throw you into the lake, steal your bed, or try to lock you in one of the gym lockers.

      Bobby chuckled, then put both hands on his ample belly and shook it. Cameron Poole, how long have we been coming to this summer camp together . . . since third grade? After three years, have you ever seen a gym locker that would fit me? He slapped his stomach and laughed. They don’t make ‘em big enough for this.

      Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his Robotics t-shirt, Bobby stood and carried his dishes to the kitchen conveyor belt. Come on, Cam, we gotta get moving. The ropes course starts in a few minutes, and I don’t wanna be at the end of the line.

      I gathered up my trash and piled it on the plastic tray, then slung my bookbag over my shoulder, my towel and robotics supplies bouncing about within the bag. Walking next to the wall, I followed Bobby toward the conveyor. I kept my eyes scanning the dining hall for threats. Being the smallest sixth-grader at the camp seemed to make me a favorite target of the bullies.

      I placed my tray on the mechanized track pulling the dirty dishes into the kitchen, then turned to the exit and froze. A group of baseball players stood near the doors, each wearing their gray and gold jerseys and harassing kids as they left. A sound, like the faint buzzing of a bee, flickered to life in the back of my mind. Sweat coated the palms of my hands as I stared at the door, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

      No, not again. I don’t wanna be afraid. The thought sent a shuddering wave of fear through me. My pulse raced as goosebumps crawled down the back of my neck. The anxiety’s coming; I know it. My anxiety amplified the fearful feeling, which produced more anxiety and intensified the fear again. My therapist, Dr. Jen, called it a thought- loop, but I didn’t care what name she had for it. This happened so often to me, it felt like a recurring nightmare.

      The Beast . . . it’s coming. The words reverberated in my head.

      I stared at the writing over the door, large, gold letters written on a dark purple square. It was Camp Pontchartrain’s Alma Mater, or the camp song. It was the same one written on the wall in the gymnasium, and now and then, the camp director, Mrs. Chakoté, made everyone sing it. In general, it was considered stupid and annoying, but something about it gave me a small bit of comfort. I read the words silently in my head, hoping to distract myself from the anxiety creeping up on me like a stalking lion.

      The hallowed shores of Pontchartrain.

      Will always be our home.

      No matter where our paths may lead,

      And despite how far we roam.

      Your majesty and history,

      Are lessons for lifelong.

      Alone, we strive to face our tasks,

      But together, we are strong.

      You taught us that our courage,

      Shall shine a golden light.

      And cast away the darkness.

      For fears that we shall smite.

      Camp Pontchartrain

      our hearts belong to you.

      Your sons and daughters sing your praise.

      And to thee remain true.

      My heart slowed a bit as the words tumbled about in my mind.

      We got to get moving, Cam, or we’ll be late. Bobby wiped his hands on his shorts and then patted me on the back. Come on.

      Bobby amazed me. The bullies targeted him just as frequently as they did me. His pimpled skin, loud mouth, and big belly offered ample ammunition to the bigger kids, their slings and arrows of hurtful comments meant to impale his self-esteem. But Bobby never seemed fazed by it. He never wavered, his confidence and sense of humor seemingly indestructible.

      Bobby, the baseball players are at the door. The buzzing in my head grew louder. I tried to swallow, but my throat felt dry as dust. We need to wait until they leave.

      Don’t be silly. Bobby smiled. If we’re late, we’ll have to do push-ups or some other stupid exercise. He turned to me, then glanced at the exit. Don’t worry. I’ll get you past them. Bobby chuckled, excitement twinkling in his eyes. I’ll create a diversion, and you can slip by.

      What kind of diversion? I asked.

      He chuckled. Trust me. You’ll know what it is.

      And with that, Bobby marched straight for the exit, his full belly bouncing about, me three steps behind, head lowered.

      Hey, look who’s coming. It was the team captain, Karl Macarthur. It’s Blobby and his cratered face. The tall sixth-grader laughed, his fellow teammates chuckling with him. Looking at him is like staring at the moon. Karl laughed again. He glanced at his companions and glared, forcing them to join in on the laughter. You’re so big, Blobby. I’m wondering if you’re still in sixth grade, or did you eat your way into seventh?

      The other baseball players roared with laughter.

      Bobby kept walking, but when he reached the door, he stopped directly in front of the baseball captain. Let me ask you something, Karl. Do you think you’re hurting me by saying I’m fat? Do you?

      "Well . . . umm . . .?

      Do you honestly believe I don’t know that I’m overweight, and you’re revealing some great secret I’ve been hiding all this time?

      Well—

      Bobby interrupted Karl before he could speak and took a step closer, pushing the ball player back with his stomach, allowing me to pass behind him and slip through the doorway. Do you think you’re saying something I haven’t heard a hundred times? I mean, really, can’t you come up with any new material, or is this just the best you can do?

      Karl glared down at Bobby, a hand slowly clenching into a fist.

      When you get some new insults, let me know. I’d love to hear them. Bobby chuckled as he turned and headed out of the dining hall, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.

      I waited for Bobby to catch up.

      You take too many chances with those bullies, I said. One of these times, you’re gonna get hurt.

      Maybe . . . but not today.

      Sometimes, I think you’re crazy. I smiled as the buzzing in my head slowly faded away. My Beast, that’s what I called my anxiety, submerged back into the dark places in my mind, waiting . . . always waiting.

      You okay? Bobby asked in a low voice.

      I nodded.

      Great, let’s get down to the lake. Bobby took off running toward the glistening waters of Lake Pontchartrain, robotics parts bouncing about in his bag.

      I sighed and tried to devise a way to avoid the ropes course, but I knew it was futile. If I didn’t show up, I’d get in trouble. Clenching my teeth, I followed Bobby, knowing failure awaited me on the shores of the lake.

      Chapter 2

      The Beast

      Afeeling of dread spread through me like a poisonous cloud as I followed Bobby toward the thing at Camp Pontchartrain that caused me so many nightmares: the ropes course. It was the sixth-graders’ turn on the course, and no one wanted to miss the perilous climb to the top except me. I hated this activity. Every time I tried it, fear of falling and getting hurt took over my mind. But how could you get hurt? The whole thing stood over the edge of the lake. I knew fear wasn’t necessarily bad; how I reacted to it determined if it was a positive or a negative thing. Like if there’s a fire at home, it makes sense to be afraid while evacuating. But for me, I worry about a fire at home all the time for no reason, and that fear turns to panic if I can’t calm down, letting my Beast control my mind. For me, fear was definitely a negative thing.

      My stomach churned . . . the first shot in the war of me vs. my anxiety.

      The course consisted of rope swings, rope ladders, seemingly unstable bridges, a zip line . . . all high in the air, ropes, and cables anchored to tall posts. The only thing keeping kids from falling to their deaths were their safety harnesses and the calm waters of Lake Pontchartrain beneath the course.

      The worst part about this entire experience for me was giving up. Every time I had attempted the course before, I had to quit and climb back down, my fear just too severe. All the other kids would laugh and make comments when I retreated, my cowardice on full display. I knew I couldn’t see into the future, but I had no doubt the same thing was about to happen again.

      I slowed to tie my shoe. Bobby, you keep going. I’m gonna put on my water shoes.

      Water shoes? Just do it barefoot.

      You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.

      Bobby shrugged. Okay, see you on the ropes.

      My friend sped off, running toward the shoreline, sunlight dancing across the calm waters in the distance. The course looked like a giant spiderweb of crisscrossing ropes stretching across the lake. Tall wooden posts stood out of the water, holding the whole thing aloft. Surrounding the ropes course was a fence made of some mesh material that went down to the bottom of the lake. Wooden posts held the fence in place, colorful stones embedded into the supports. They say the fence is supposed to keep out the alligators and snakes, but I never really understood that; the snakes could swim through the holes in the fence. As far as I knew, no one had ever seen a gator or snake near the ropes course, so the fence must be doing something.

      I stared at one of the posts holding up the protective barrier, the colorful stones shimmering in the bright sunlight. A clear stone, maybe quartz, seemed to glow as I stared at it. For a moment, I thought I heard a faint whisper in the back of my head. But that made little sense. Likely it was just my imagination, one of the many what-ifs that tortured me daily.

      Looking back to the ground, I pulled off my sneakers and slipped on water shoes, stuffing the Keds in my bookbag. As I stood, a group of boys, each wearing a purple and white soccer team jersey, formed a line across the trail and harassed anyone brave enough to pass by.

      The buzzing returned, this time like a swarm of angry bees—the second shot in the war.

      Am I getting anxious? The thought instantly triggered a fear response in the worry part of my brain. My heart pounded in my chest as goosebumps prickled my skin, the buzzing growing louder.

      I’m getting afraid. The thought seemed to amplify my anxiety. My ears pounded with an accelerating pulse, and my body stiffened with tension. Is the Beast coming? The anxiety jumped up a level, making the fear even worse. I knew I was trapped in a thought-loop again, the fear and anxiety connected, each making the other stronger as I focused on the problem rather than the solution.

      I gotta get out of this loop. Clenching my fists, I tried some coping strategies Dr. Jen taught me.

      I started with 4 – 7 – 8 breathing, I took a deep breath as I counted slowly to four, then held my breath for seven counts and exhaled for eight counts. Glancing away from the soccer players, I focused my eyes on the ground and repeated the breathing sequence . . . but the counts were getting faster and faster.

      It’s not working!

      I tried box breathing, breathing in for five counts, waiting for five counts, exhaling for five counts, then waiting again for five counts before repeating. With my heartbeat as a counter, I repeated the breathing exercise. For a minute, I just stood there and breathed, hoping my Beast would stay away. Gradually, my heart slowed, and the buzzing in my head grew a little softer, the anxiety lessening, but I knew the Beast was still there, waiting . . . always waiting.

      The kids from the soccer cabin were the worst. After winning the Capture the Flag game last night, they acted as if they ruled the camp … and they did. These kids did anything they wanted with their coaches always nearby, ready to get them out of trouble. For some reason, they loved tormenting me, and right now, they stood directly in my path.

      I’ll never get past those bullies, I thought.

      The buzzing in my head morphed from a collection of bees to a hive of angry hornets; the Beast grew nearer. My heartbeat felt like a blacksmith’s hammer pounding an anvil.

      Please don’t see me . . . please . . . please.

      I ran for the boy’s bathroom and slipped inside, hoping to hide. Dr. Jen’s words resonated in my head, ‘Avoiding a stressful situation doesn’t help you learn to manage your anxiety. Hiding from the problem doesn’t make it go away. Avoiding stressful situations and hiding from the problem just serves to feed your Beast. Facing things and using coping strategies will starve your Beast. You need to apply the coping strategies and make your Beast go hungry, so you can be in control of your thoughts.

      Be in control of my thoughts? I thought. Right now, that seems impossible.

      I ducked into the last stall, slamming the door shut behind me as my breathing turned shallow and ragged. Sitting on the back of the toilet with my feet off the ground, I waited, my body quivering. I tried to slow my pulse, using the breathing exercises again, trying not to concentrate on my fears . . . but I was never very good at that part. The pounding of my heart became a little less frantic, but the exercises didn’t help my anxiety.

      My skin felt clammy as beads of sweat formed everywhere. It seemed as if the hot breath of some gigantic creature puffed across my body, ready to devour me. Thoughts raced through my mind, each suggesting what might happen. The panic intensified, fueling my fear until anxiety consumed my mind, leaving me unable to think.

      The last shot in the war between me and my anxiety landed squarely in my brain.

      A thunderous pounding filled my ears as my heart raced. Fear blasted through my mind like a hurricane of jagged things from a dark nightmare. My Beast had arrived with a vengeance, its presence overwhelming. The panic felt all-consuming, a maelstrom of terror that threatened to crush me in its dark embrace.

      I wanted to escape, but that was impossible. My anxiety filled my mind with worst-case scenarios. I imagined the soccer players humiliating me in front of everyone. Images of them beating and kicking me filled my mind as even worse thoughts of what they might do surged through my head. My mind shifted into panic mode. The worry part of my brain was now in complete control.

      Will this fear ever stop? It feels like it’s gonna go on forever.

      The door to the bathroom swung open. It banged against the wall with a SMACK! The sound echoed off the tile floors and concrete walls like thunder. My whole body shuddered.

      I think I saw a little weasel scurry in here, a deep voice said.

      Jackson Viles, the soccer cabin leader, stepped into the bathroom, his sneakers squeaking on the cold floors. The high-pitched sound was like a thousand needles to my spine, the shrill noise so penetrating that it felt like it was scraping the inside of my skull, leaving me a little dizzy. My body shuddered from the anticipation of the torture I knew was coming.

      Where are you, little weasel? Viles asked.

      Jackson was a mean boy with a streak of violence even some of the older kids feared. Making other people suffer seemed to bring him joy. I knew I was in trouble.

      Are you in here, little weasel?

      The door to the first stall slammed open. My body flinched at the sound, almost falling off the toilet. I cupped my hands to my ears, trying to muffle the hornets, but the sound came from inside my skull, anxiety gnawing away at my mind. Arms, legs . . . everything started to shake.

      What do I do . . . what do I do?

      The next door slammed open.

      I know you’re here. Just come out, and it’ll go easier on you. Jackson chuckled.

      The other soccer players laughed.

      BANG.

      The door next to me crashed open. The stall shook, as did I.

      The what-ifs surged through my mind, my anxiety showing me how Jack might punish me for being me. I tried to speak, but my mouth felt like a desert.

      Looks like there’s just one stall left.

      Viles stepped up to my stall and stood there. The tips of his fluorescent green and black Nikes poked under the door. Fingers curled over the top of the door and shook it. The lock held.

      I shuddered, the buzzing like constant thunder. Sometimes, the anticipation of something was worse than the actual event. That’s how it feels right now. I knew my fate was sealed,

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1