The Darkness Lurks

KIERAN SALVATORE

The night was unnaturally still, a silence hanging over the town like a heavy veil. Not the typical quiet of a small, elite community like Pleasant Hills, but something deeper, more foreboding. I moved through the narrow alleyways, my senses heightened, catching the faintest movements, the smallest sounds that would escape any normal human ear, not me.

The air had the faint metallic scent of blood, carried on the cool breeze that swept through the empty streets. Shadows flickered under the pale light of the streetlamps, casting long, distorted shapes on the cobblestones. The town seemed asleep, unaware of what was happening beneath its surface. But for those of us in the community—the hidden community—it was anything but calm.