AT TIMES, DON’T FEED THE DARK CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, GORE, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT AND HARSH LANGUAGE THAT MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR YOUNGER READERS. DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
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Chapter Index
PART I: DEAD OF NIGHT
Chapter 1-1: Demon Night
Chapter 1-2: Demon Night
Chapter 1-3: Demon Night
Chapter 1-4: Demon Night
Chapter 2-1: Dinner and a Movie
Chapter 2-2: Dinner and a Movie
Chapter 2-3: Dinner and a Movie
Chapter 2-4: Dinner and a Movie
Chapter 3-1: A Higher Education
Chapter 3-2: A Higher Education
Chapter 3-3: A Higher Education
Chapter 4: Happy Hour
Chapter 5: Breakdown
Chapter 6-1: Dinner and a Movie 2
Chapter 6-2: Dinner and a Movie 2
Chapter 6-3: Dinner and a Movie 2
Chapter 7-1: Demon Night 2
Chapter 7-2: Demon Night 2
Chapter 7-3: Demon Night 2
Chapter 7-4: Demon Night 2
PART II: SOUTHBOUND NIGHTMARES
Chapter 8-1: State of Emergency
Chapter 8-2: State of Emergency
Chapter 8-3: State of Emergency
Chapter 8-4: State of Emergency
Chapter 9-1: Desolate Shores
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Chapter 1-1: Demon Night
The October harvest moon ascended above the tree line; its ominous, orange lit lower half sporadically penetrated the dark clouds that slowly consumed the night sky. Like an alien eye staring down upon the dark and silent village of Kirtland Hills, Ohio, that fiery orb held its gaze upon the small downtown streets below, sensing an unsettling presence that did not belong.
Elongated shadows shifted beneath the moonlight, giving them an eerie life-like quality as they slowly paraded along Route 306 and through the heart of downtown. First, past the public hall and police station on the left, and then the small post office to the right; past the library, the dollar store, the local bank, and then beyond the public schools all nestled together across the street from Kirtland’s only apartment complex. They continued on past the small antique shops, the gas station, the family owned ice cream shop, until finally reaching the edge of downtown and passing through the Mormon historical district. A modern church and a visitor center surrounded the tallest structure, the Mormon Temple—its tall spire pointing defiantly toward that roaming eye above, like a needle hoping to pierce the moon. The shadow parade continued cautiously past the local town cemetery where horrors imagined would soon merge with tangible nightmares disguised in darkness and the illusion of eternal rest.
Beyond the sheepish downtown, the shadow parade dispersed into the darker streets that wound the spacious hillside areas of Kirtland where dim street lights gave way to dark countryside, farm lands, and long private drives, which hid the luxurious homes of Kirtland’s more fortuitous citizens… and an evil which began to stir.
The crisp night air invigorated the man dressed in black as he watched the moon flicker between the waving boughs of two enormous willow trees that hid him and the Chevy van. The narrow dirt road, covered with overgrowth, ran the entire perimeter of the old abandoned farm, providing the perfect place to approach the Schuler residence undetected from the back of the property.
He continued to lie patiently in the tall grass beneath the willow, arms folded behind his head and listening to the wind brush against the night.
“I see you,” he whispered to the moon.
The moon remained silent.
Half-an-hour later, the celestial watchman retreated behind the clouds.
Russell got up, crossed the dirt road, and jumped over a decrepit wooden fence that separated both properties.
He walked silently but purposefully through a small wooded area for ten minutes before seeing the rear porch light on the wraparound veranda, a tell-tale of the two-story Victorian Schuler residence that dominated the property.
Before exiting the wood line, he knelt behind a tall oak tree, letting his eyes readjust to the unwelcome light while he watched for anything out of the ordinary.
At the center of a well-manicured yard sat a small pond with a fountain, guarded by a tall angelic stone statue and surrounded by a luxurious garden of several types of seasonal flowers.
If nothing else, Janet loves her flowers, Russell thought.
With the exception of the rear porch light and the kitchen light on the first floor that illuminated part of the garden, the remainder of the yard had given up to darkness. Russell knew that the only other light to contend with once he was inside would be the hallway light at the top of the curved stairwell that spilled out into the foyer at the front of the house.
Satisfied, he took a moment to reflect. He often felt a mixture of excitement and sadness knowing that the end had finally come. There had been so much time invested in all the details—everything concerning the lives of Gerald and Janet Schuler. He felt like he knew them intimately.
Gerald was a big-shot defense attorney who worked out of Cleveland. He often traveled to accommodate an ever-increasing list of infamous clients. This week he was out in San Francisco interviewing the latest pond scum, or at least, that’s the story he told his gullible wife.
But we know better, don’t we, boss?
“Yes,” Russell whispered in response, slightly annoyed. “We certainly do.”
Gerald’s new client was actually the young and voluptuous Miss Sarah Turner, Gerald’s secretary and secret mistress.
Gone off to ‘Frisco for their quarterly fuck-fest. That dumb whore bitch of his thinks Gerald’s gonna divorce Mrs. Pathetic any day now. Thinks she’s next in line for the great Schuler fortune, I’d wager. What ‘cha think, boss?
Russell ignored him. What mattered was that Gerald would not be home.
And Janet… alone.
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(Continued in the next reply...)