Excerpt from Shadow People new book in progress. I have decided to start each chapter with a poem relevant to the contents of that particular chapter. Below is the beginning of Shadow People.
DARKNESS
A. W. NUTTER
Darkness slowly overtakes the day
It is time to bow our heads and pray
Demons of the dark taking flight
Blood thirsty monsters that own the night
Hearing the screams of loved ones crying
As people are left bleeding and dying
All grows quiet as the carnage stops
Warm sunshine begins to bathe the roof tops
Evil cannot exist in the presence of light
Satan’s spawn forced to take flight
A few hours peace before death visits again
Children of Eve suffering for the original sin
My trembling hand grasped the worn brass knob. The cool metal ball rotated slowly under my touch. As it swung open I wondered why the door had been left unlocked. Either this was a trick, or Sis had decided to help me escape. I stepped out of my prison cell they called a bedroom and into the hallway I had seen when they first brought me here. A faded memory brought to mind as I viewed the long corridor leading to the living room and freedom. Moving quietly down the hall I concentrated on making absolutely no sound. To be discovered would mean my death. This was my one and only chance at escape. Escape into what? No one was waiting for me on the outside. I needed to be free and away from the lunatic that keeps calling me Luther and forces me to call her Mother. The front door was in sight, throwing caution aside I raced to the door and stepped outside for the first time in two years. The blast of frigidly cold air engulfing me only served to heighten my excitement. The thrill was short lived as reality started to creep in. I wouldn’t last long in this weather with nothing on but a ragged pair of shorts. I was fortunate to have any clothes on at all. The only clothes I owned were taken from one of their victims and given to me. A blood stain still darkened one leg. Standing on the front porch I looked across the snow covered lawn into the moonlit forest. I had to make my mind up quickly it was either freeze to death in the woods or stay here and remain a prisoner. Let my captors kill me or die alone in the forest. Stepping off the porch I plunged into the woods moving as quickly as I could through the darkness. Unseen branches and briars pulled at my skin as I pressed on.
“Ethan, wake up honey. You’re dreaming again, Ethan wake up!”
“I’m sorry Sherry, what time is it?”
“It’s midnight. Can we turn off some of these lights so I can get back to sleep?”
“You know I need them on. Please don’t ask me to turn them off.”
“I cannot exist on three or four hours of rest every night. This foolishness has got to stop. You’re a grown man for god’s sake, it’s time you quit being so childish. Leave the damn lights on and be quiet we’ll talk about this in the morning.”
Sherry was right. I did need to learn to sleep with the lights off. Nothing lurks in the dark that isn’t there during the day. There is nothing to fear except fear itself. It’s time to grow up son and face your fears. I have heard all the clichés and none of them are helpful or true. As night starts to fall I seek the light, turning on every lamp in the house, keeping a flashlight and extra batteries handy in case of a power failure. Some would say I was crazy, or perhaps eccentric. Others insist that I am nothing more than a coward, forever believing in childish fears I should have put behind me long ago. The ones who criticize have not walked where I have walked or seen what I have seen. They refuse to acknowledge the existence of creatures that enjoy the cover of darkness and relish in the hunt of man. Stealth and surprise are their greatest allies as they attack unsuspecting victims. Realization for the victims arrives too late, mere seconds before they die. Destroyed by demons they thought only existed in fairy tales. The killing takes place every single night and no one knows the truth except for me. I wish I could be like everyone else, blind to the evilness surrounding us. There are none as blind as those that refuse to see, I wish I hadn’t seen. I was spared because of who they believed I was. Sooner or later they will find me, or I’ll find them. I wonder if they are still looking for me. It was such a long time ago. Either way Sherry is right this has got to stop.
My loving wife is growing very tired trying to sleep in the simulated daytime I create every evening. She doesn’t understand having to live with a nightmare every single day of your life, or maybe I should say night. She tolerates my paranoia. I suppose I’ve become her living nightmare. Living with me certainly has not been an easy chore. Sherry reminds me constantly that my fears are unfounded. We have been married for two years and nothing out of the ordinary has happened during the day and even less at night. I love her deeply. Sherry strolled into my life and straight into my heart when I was a senior in high school. Her shoulder length red hair and pale complexion lured me in like a moth to a flame. She was new in school but we hit it off instantaneously. Easy to talk to and share secrets with. The very first secret I shared with her was about my parents. To this day she refuses to believe my story. Sherry passes it off as a child’s traumatic account of the actual events which took place. I love her even if she doesn’t believe a word I tell her. She has been suggesting I seek professional help. The psychiatrists couldn’t help me as a child. I doubt one would be of much use now. I’ll end up making an appointment, because of my love for her. If I lose her, my life is the same as over. I can’t be alone again.
I despise the night. My eyes get so tired and heavy they close forcing me into the darkness I hate so much. As sleep arrives the nightmares return and my grasp on sanity slips a little further away. The nightmares that were created so many years ago, I was only eight years old. I am to weary fighting a battle I cannot win. My mother’s faint voice is calling me. It’s funny how I dream the same dream over and over again. I wonder what a psychiatrist would say about my dream. Slowly reality is pushed aside as I fail to remain awake. To tired, the past has caught up with me once again.