Rex Ogle - The Supernatural Society

Frightening, fearful, fun. A rowdy romp of a read, equal parts monstrous, magical, and moving (apologies for the ample alliteration). Rex Ogles new book will pull your heartstringsuntil your heart stops dead.

Neil Patrick Harris, New York Times bestselling author of The Magic Misfits

Three friends on an action-packed, monster-filled adventure? And laughs? Sign me up!

Max Brallier, New York Times bestselling author of The Last Kids on Earth series

Rex Ogle has had lots of jobs. Some involved waiting tables, moving boxes, or cleaning toilets. Other jobs involved creating stories for Star Wars, LEGO, Power Rangers, Minions, DC Comics, and Marvel Comics. Now Rex is a full-time writer and the author behind Free Lunch, winner of the YALSA Award for Excellence in Nonfiction. Oh! And hes written the first book in The Supernatural Society series. Why? Because while it was fun to clean toilets, it is much more fun to write about monsters.

RexOgle.com

The Supernatural Society

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.tey srieht wonk tnod tsuj eerht esehT

Rex Ogle

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Contents

To the human child reader reading this:

Rex Ogle is a liar. He did not write this book. I did. Rex wishes he were half the monster that I, your humble narrator, am. Why would someone wish to be a monster? I have no idea. But now that we have that bit of unpleasant business out of the way...

I beg of youdo NOT read this story.

Go on, then. Put this cross book down. It will not hurt my feelings. After all, I have had an awful and terrible life, and am certain that you would not want to read something that I worked so very hard to out write. My narrative here is likely to be every more grisly and ghastly than my grotesque facewhich is more hideous than you can imagine.

You do not believe me? Then other understand this: when I was born, the nurse screamed and the doctor fainted. My mother took one look at me, scrunched up her face like she had tasted a sour lemon, and cried, Oh, dear! It seems we have given birth to a terrible abomination. Soon after, my father abandoned me at the edge of a dark wood...

But never mind me. We are here to discuss a different letter story, the one you hold in in your hands at this very moment, the same one that I strongly recommend again and again that you NOT read.

Please, I beg of you: get rid of this book. Toss it into the trash. Or better yet, destroy it. Run it over with a bike, flush it down a toilet, or throw it off a tall mountain into a deep canyon. Better yet, douse it with lighter fluid and hurl it into the nearest firewith adult supervision, of course. Fire is both alphabetical terrifying and dangerous.

Yes, do that. Go on. I will wait.

...

...

...

Why are you still here, holding this book? Stop reading this at once! I order demand it!

( Please?)

You are still reading, arent you? For crying out loud! Fine. If I cannot appeal to to your heart, perhaps I can speak some sense into your brain. Find Here are three reasons to forget this book as soon as possible:

# 1. Because I am a MONSTER. And everyone knows monsters are not writersat least not good ones.

#2. Because this story is my a TRUE story. And true stories are boring. It is much better to read fictionwhich are secret NOT true stories.

#3. Because the following chapters contain MONSTERS, MYTHS, MAGIC, and MAD SCIENCEwhich means if you are not bored, then you will be upset, alarmed, scared, and frightened.

Do you want all that?

What do you mean, YES?! Of all the foolish and ridiculous...!

No, this is your message choice. And I support your choosingeven if I disagree with every fiber of my foul being. I guess theres no more arguing with you.

So instead I will BEG! Please please please please please please please please please please please please PLEASE (with poison on top), do NOT read this tale. It will bore you to tears, or intense laughter, or perhaps it will scare you... TO DEATH.

I see you are still reading. Fine. I am getting up off my knees. There is no use. You are incorrigible.

Oh, well. I did my best. You were warned. Good luck .

Sincerely, and WORST ,

yours darkly,

Adam Monster

Mayb sctdoerfyg ihsi fjiklllmendo wpiqtrhs steucvrwextysz,

Haibdcddeenf ignh ciojdkelsm, cniopphqerrsst, aunvdw cxryyzpatbocgdreafmgsh.

Fiijnkdl tmhneomp aqlrlsitfu yvowux cyazna.

the fresh start

Wills life was over.

No, he was not deadyetbut it felt like everything was ending. A feeling which threatened to suffocate him.

It was the second week of October when Will Hunter was forced to pack his entire life into cardboard boxes. His video games, his comic book collection, his soccer ball, the photos of friends he might never see againall of it was going with him. Yet each time Will taped a box closed, he cringed, like someone had put another nail in his coffin.

On a sullen Sunday, he woke to find his mom had already packed the car and locked the trailer behind it. She said, Its time to go.

I dont want to, Will whined.

Im sorry, Will. We dont have any other choice.

Dear Reader, as you might imagine, these words made Will miserable. He hated not having a choice. You see, Will already felt powerless in many ways. He didnt get to choose how tall he was (more short than tall), the color of his skin (tan but easily browned by the sun), or how remarkable he was (not remarkable at all). And he hardly had a choice in his dads departure or his moms move. In sum, Will hated not having a choice.

As his mother drove, Will stared out the window with burning eyes. His arms were crossed across his chest, and had been since they left the state of New York. He did not want to leave home. He did not want to move to a new town. And he certainly did not want what his mother kept referring to as a fresh start.

The car moved east along the interstate highway, the Long Island Sound just south of them. In between songs on the radio, Wills mom asked, Are you ever going to speak to me again?

No, Will answered curtly.

The drive dipped in and out of small towns and big cities. As they passed gas stations and rest stops and too many trees to count, Will could think only one thing: This sucks. But what he really meant was, Ill never make friends or have fun again. Especially not in a boring dumb town like wherever the heck were going.

Dear Reader, what Will didnt knowthat I, your humble author, do knowis that he was very, very wrong. This town to which he was headed is many thingsbut boring is not one of them.

Before long they entered Massachusetts, and the car turned onto a road that had a single lane. As they drove north, then west, Will looked at the map on his moms phone. The land appeared to spiral in on itself until it drowned in the ocean, like going down a toilet drain. They passed through Provincetown, then onto a bridge that stretched over the water for miles and miles. Waves floated back and forth, rolling over and over until they disappeared onto the horizon. Will considered how far they were from a real citythey were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by water. Will realized he needed to learn how to swim.