1

Strange things are happening in Valley Ridge, strange, frightening things. Something is out there, something scary.

      Here, there are three rules that we always follow: 1) Never walk alone. 2) Never be outside for longer than 5 minutes. 3) Never go outside after sunset.

      If you don't follow the rules, you die.

      Whatever it is that's out there wants something from us, with us. Corpses of curious people who ventured out into the night are found every day. Curiosity kills.

      But you know what also kills? Being 14 and home alone.

      Sitting in the safe room with my dad's rifle in my hand is the way I spend most of my afternoons. I even do my homework in here.

      "Quorraline!" A voice calls. Yes, I know it's a strange name. My mother's an oceanographer and wanted to name me Coral but my father wanted to name me Caroline. So they just combined the two names and spelled it with a Q to be different.

      "Quorraline!" My mother calls again, her voice rising to a note of worry. I hurry up the stairs to the safe room and unlatch, unbolt, and open the door. I step through the cellar, open the door and enter the rest of the house.

      My mother stands in front of a closed front door, fright laced into her features.

      "I'm here, Mom," I call out. Seeing me, her features visibly relax. Her dark-brown arms reach out, and I step into them.

      "Don't make me have to call you twice, you hear?" She admonishes me in a firm tone.

      "I'm sorry," I say.

      "It's fine," she says walking into the kitchen.

      I follow; it feels safer than being alone.

      "How was school?" Mom busies herself preparing dinner.

      "It was good," I reply. School generally is good. Our school is small; it's a small town. We've been going at 8 in the morning and leaving at two recently. It's been starting later and ending earlier than most schools, but sometimes sunrise is later, like in the winter. Plus, nighttime comes earlier in the winter. So, they just changed the school times for the rest of the year.

      The front door opens.

      It’s my brother coming in.

      "Mactaurum," Mom calls, she always seems to know who's coming inside the house without even looking up. He enters the kitchen, frowning at Mom calling him by his full name.

      Unlike my name, his name actually means something: "mact" comes from the Latin word "macto" (meaning fighter) and "aurum" is the Latin word for gold. Literally, his name means fighter gold. Even so, it’s still a strange name.

      "Good afternoon, Mom," Mac (that's what almost everyone else calls him) greets her with a kiss on the cheek.

      "Hey, Cor," Mac pats me on the head, using my nickname.

      "You worked a short shift today," Mom comments, getting back to the dinner. Mac puts his bag down and sits at the table.

      "Yeah, I'm not there for a long time anyway," He explains. "This time of year, the shop closes at 4:30, but it closed early today."

      "Why?" I ask. All the shops around here close so early that I’m lost as to why the shop would close any earlier.

      "I dunno. My boss didn't say; he just told me to start packing up." Mac replies.

      "Hmm, that's peculiar," Mom remarks. Peculiar indeed.

      It gets quiet for a little bit while Mac starts doing his homework. His homework looks really hard, but it doesn’t seem hard for him, which makes sense because I’m a freshman and he’s a junior in all honors and AP courses. Would that be me when I’m a junior in two years? I hope not.

When Mac is done, he and I go into the living room and look outside.

      We can barely see the woods from our house, but every day Mac and I try to get a glimpse of the creature. We've never seen it, though.

      Something is wrong I realize after watching the woods for a few minutes. The sun is low on the horizon, but my father isn’t home. The beautiful sunset, perhaps the most magnificent I'd ever laid eyes on, became bittersweet.

      I stare in the direction of the town, trying to see the twilight glinting off my dad’s badge or hat, but I don’t see him. I send a look to my brother. He looks back at me with worry in his eyes.

      We go back to the kitchen with our mom.

      Soon after, the door opens. It's my dad. I heave a sigh of relief. I run up to him and give him a tight hug like a little girl might do.

      "It's okay," He says letting me go.

      "Why are you so late today?" Mom asks stepping out of her workplace. "It's practically nighttime."

      "That doesn't matter anymore," Dad says.

      "What?" Mac replies, saying what I’m thinking.

      "The creature isn't only striking at night," Dad says.

      "Stop talking in riddles!" Mom orders. He sinks down onto the couch, then looks up at each of us.

      "Parkerson is dead," He says plainly. Abel Parkerson is, was, a close family friend of ours. He was there when Mac was born, when I was born, that time I had to go to the hospital because of food poisoning; Abe was there since long before the creature.

      "What do you mean he's dead?" Mac asks. "How?"

      "He thought he heard kids outside, and he went to go investigate." Dad puts his face in his hands. "He didn't come back after a few hours. So, me and a few other cops went out to go find him." He pauses to look up. "We found his corpse a little ways off from the police station, with bite marks in the head."

      A collective gasp goes through me, Mom, and Mac as the realization sinks in.

      "He was killed ... by the creature," I choke out. A bite mark in the head is the mark of the creature, all of its victims have this.

      "Abe is dead," Mom processes this.

      "Yes, he's dead," Dad replies. He lifts himself off of the couch.

      "What does this mean, Dad?" Mac asks. Dad looks straight in his eyes.

      "It means that all of the businesses in town are closed and none of you are to leave the house," He tells him.

      "Are you going to leave the house?" I ask.

      "I have to," He responds, turning his gaze to me. "The people rely on me and the rest of the police force to protect them from this creature."

      "But, honey, you could get killed!" Mom cries.

      "That doesn't matter now. We all can get killed." I've never seen my father like this, openly frightened. Usually, he hides his fear from us.  "Mactaurum, while I'm gone, you protect your mother and sister."

      Mac's eyes don't waver from Dad’s as he says, "Yes, Dad."

      This changes things.