My name was once Christopher, though my parents regarded me as Chrissy. Now nobody knows my name, except you, reader. I’ve lived my whole life in the shadows, biding my time before it returned for me. Now that time has come.
It happened on a warm summer night, the kind where the heat clings to your flesh in the form of small beads of salty sweat. My family and I were on a road trip, heading to the annual peach festival in Kentucky. The moon cast an eerie glow upon the empty road, as if warning us of the impending darkness that would consume our lives.
As we journeyed in our worn-out Ford Pinto, I slept soundly in the backseat, as my dad played his beloved blues albums. Suddenly, the car jerked to a halt, jolting me awake. The battery had died, plunging us into an abyss of pitch-black darkness. The moon, our supposed protector, seemed to vanish, leaving us vulnerable and in the dark, at the mercy of the wilderness.
My father decided to wait until morning for help, trapped in that forsaken car with no means of communication. We had no way to know that the creature —hanging in the sky like an eclipse, blocking out the celestial— was just watching, waiting. It relished in our isolation, its hunger for its prey growing with each passing moment.
A shiver ran down my spine, reminiscent of the time Amber, my mischievous sister, dropped an ice cube down my shirt. As I reached for my thermos on the car floor, a thunderous crash shattered the silence behind us. It was as if an angel had plummeted from the heavens, though such fortune was not meant for us. “It’s just an animal, dear,” my father reassured my frightened mother, his voice laced with feigned bravery. But it was no ordinary animal—it was terror incarnate, a harbinger of pain and impending death.
From the darkness the creature approached, its form blending in with the night itself. Its body was covered in matted brown fur, similar in color to decaying earth from a long forgotten grave. As it approached the side of the car, the side my mother and sister were on I looked upon it. The eyes that locked with mine were soulless voids, draining hope from my very being. And its wings—tattered and stained with the blood of what I could only assume was its countless victims—unfurled with a sickening rustle.
My mother let out a gasp, and as Amber, my sister, rubbed her eyes and sat up awakening once again she jumped and scooted towards the middle seat. My father let out a short surprised shout, which sent the creature into action.
It’s long metallic like nails screeched at the window, my father, still stern in his assumption it was some bearlike creature laid on the horn to scare it off. It didn’t seem to much care for that. As it ripped his door clear off and picked him up thought he was nothing but a doll.
My mother screamed out in terror and ran out of the car, trying to cover my sisters door and stop the creature from getting to us. It was futile, in the end she was just an easier catch, out in the open. She screamed “not my children, you motherfucker!” And with that, the chorus of slashed flesh and carnage continued on.
I suppose Amber was left to be its dessert, as she was as sweet and innocent as the vanilla ice cream she always used to get from the ice-cream truck every Saturday evening. She herself made no sounds except muffled sobs still pinned to the door of the back seat in fear. It then peeled off the roof like it was opening a tin can, seizing her in its claws.
I turned away, unable to witness the grisly fate of my family, but also afraid for myself. I slid down to the bottom of the car covering my face with my hands. The stench of death hung heavy in the air as the creature feasted upon the remains of my loved ones, relishing in its macabre banquet.
When it finally had its fill, the creature’s massive form stomped away, its every step shaking the very earth beneath it. The sound of its wings filled the air, a cacophony of flapping, reminiscent of the ominous drum taps of an approaching army. Left alone, too alone, I found myself paralyzed with terror, surrounded by the aftermath of unspeakable carnage.
I can still hear their screams echoing in my nightmares—the piercing shrieks of their terror as the creature tore them apart, its claws rending flesh, its jaws dripping with crimson. The visceral sounds of human flesh being shredded and organs being slurped on like a thick smoothie haunt me to this day.
In the aftermath, I travelled from place to place, retreated from the world, living as a recluse haunted by the memories of that night. I believed I had escaped the creature’s clutches, but now, as I sit in the solitude of my candle lit home, I hear its ominous presence lurking outside—footsteps like thunder, wings flapping in anticipation. It knows I’m here, and I know it’s there.
These will be my final words. And as I pen these words, my trembling hand can barely keep up with the racing thoughts of my mind. The memories flood back, vivid and terrifying, as I relive the night that forever altered me.
The creature’s presence outside grows more pronounced. Its claws scrape against the windows, leaving deep gouges on the double-paned glass. I can hear its guttural hisses, like a symphony of malevolence echoing through the stillness of the night. It taunts me, reminding me that my time is running out.
I have barricaded myself in this house, the only sanctuary left to me. But the creature is cunning, patient. It knows how to infiltrate the darkest corners of one’s mind, slowly eroding sanity and instilling paralyzing fear. I can feel its influence creeping closer, like a suffocating fog that chokes the very life out of me.
There would be nights when I woke from fitful sleep, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding against my chest. In those moments, I catch glimpses of its grotesque silhouette outside my window—shadowy wings spreading wide, casting a harrowing specter on the moonlit walls.
I have taken every precaution to ward off the creature, smearing blessed symbols on the doors and windows, clutching a crucifix tightly in my trembling hands. But I know deep down that these feeble attempts are nothing but futile, mere flickers of hope against an all-consuming darkness.
Time grows short. I can sense the creature’s patience waning, its hunger growing insatiable. Its presence engulfs the house, suffusing every room with a malefic aura. The floorboards creak under its weight, and the air becomes heavy with the stench of decay.
There is nowhere left to run, no sanctuary to find solace. My fate is sealed, intertwined with the horrors that await me. I have accepted my impending death, for the creature has claimed my family, and now it seeks to claim me, completing the macabre feast.
As I put the final strokes on this testament, I can hear the creature’s triumphant screech—a haunting chorus that reverberates through the desolate trees. Its arrival is imminent, heralded by the fluttering of leathery wings and the shattering of glass.
May my words serve as a haunting warning to all who read them. The creature, that was born from the deepest recesses of the darkness, harbors no mercy, no remorse. It is an embodiment of our deepest fears, a relentless predator that lurks in the shadows, preying on our vulnerabilities.
Now, as the creature breaches the threshold of my home, I have no choice but to surrender myself to its nightmarish embrace. I just pray it doesn’t choose you next, as you now know of its existence, but you must know what’s truly lurking about.