Dark Was the Night
Self-Published, 09/2021
Content Warning: The following excerpt contains strong language and graphic violence in line with the novel’s tone.
I open the door, and chills race down my spine. Three figures stand on my front porch. Dressed in dark clothes, each one wears a mask that obscures everything but their eyes.
The one on the left, wearing a werewolf mask and a black leather jacket, is about Michael’s height. The tallest of the three, standing in the center, wears a ghost mask, his shoulders slouched forward as if trying to appear smaller. The third, to my right, is my height, his head and chest wrapped in bandages—like a mummy. I stare at them for a heartbeat, unnerved by their eerie presence. Convinced they must be teenagers, I force a nervous smile and a chirpy, “Hi,” reaching for the bowl of candy, until I notice something. None of them are carrying treat bags. Instead, they all wear black leather gloves. My hand freezes. The hairs on my neck stand up. Something is wrong. I step back. Too late.
They shove me inside. The candy bowl drops, skidding across the floor as sweets scatter everywhere. The one wearing the werewolf mask grabs me by the neck, slamming me against the wall. His gloved hand presses tighter, silencing my scream. With his free hand, he brings a finger to the lips of his mask and shakes his head.
The one wearing the ghost mask moves for Natalie. She screams and bolts toward me.
“No!” I want to yell, but I can’t make a sound. I shake my head, motioning for her to run.
She doesn’t. Ghost scoops her up like a doll, and her bloodcurdling scream shreds through me. My body fights to lunge for her, but Werewolf’s grip tightens, strangling the air from my lungs. Behind them, Mummy slams the door shut and rushes to the windows, pulling the curtains closed.
Probably alerted by the commotion downstairs, Toby comes bounding down the stairs. Growling. Snarling. He launches himself at Ghost, sinking his teeth into his leg. Ghost stumbles, jerking Natalie in his grip as he struggles to shake Toby off.
This is my chance. I claw at Werewolf’s hands, twisting and thrashing, desperate to break free. But he slams his weight against me, pinning me harder to the wall.
Bastard! I grunt, but there is no use fighting, my body is trapped under Werewolf’s weight. Toby is gnawing on Ghost’s leg, and despite Ghost’s kicks, Toby is relentless. Without warning, Mummy spins, grabs the floor lamp from the living room, and swings. The metal base collides with Toby’s ribs in a sickening crack. His small body hurtles across the room, crashing into the opposite wall of the living room’s window—where he crumples, motionless.
A strangled sound escapes me. Grief. Rage. Werewolf tightens his grip until my legs thrash beneath me, my fingers clawing uselessly at his hands. Those bastards killed Toby! They’re going to kill us, too!
I lunge for his mask, aiming to rip it off, gouge his face, anything, but he squeezes tighter. I collapse to the floor, gasping for air as he crouches over me. His voice muffled behind the mask is the voice of a man.
"Now you listen, and you listen good, you fucking bitch. From now on, you do as I say, or I will beat your daughter to death with that lamp. Are we clear?" he sneers at me.