In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

START FROM THE BEGINNING WITH EPISODE 1 ««

Or START HERE for a list of all the Episodes

Previous, from the last episode:

“Are you a Psychic?” A different reporter barged into her thoughts, her attention returning to the courthouse steps.

She scanned the group of press correspondents. Some took notes or adjusted their microphones to get closer to the podium. While others stared with faces turned up and waited. Journalists from major media outlets jostled for position to hear her answer.

Maybe Beth was a freak.

Unhinged.

And now everyone would know it.

But the police had found Amelia. Just as Beth had described it. And on a Friday before midnight, no less.

“A psychic? I wouldn’t say that,” Beth said, responding to the reporter. She didn’t accept that description for herself. That sounded too much like a career—a highly polished methodology or honed skill.

Yet her dreams and visions had happened more by chance than by craft.

Beth squinted as the blazing sun emerged from behind the clouds, baking the ground as it seemed to sizzle under her feet. Her cotton shirt stuck to her back as a swampy Georgia breeze blew across it.

The loud, insistent shouts from the throng of people clamored for her attention. Their equipment strained in the muggy heat, emitting a chemical smell of hot plastic and scorched rubber.

One reporter raised his voice, “Is your sister a psychic, too?”

Beth and Lily rarely talked anymore. Ever since they had gotten married, their lives had diverged in two different directions. It’d been years since their whole family was together. They only stayed connected through their mom, who provided news and updates.

“You would have to ask her,” Beth responded.

Beth searched the crowd again for her husband, ready for the interview to be over. But River was nowhere to be found.

“Ok, that’s enough questions. We’ll let you know what we find,” the police chief said.

Beth released her grip on the podium, stepping away as the Chief took her place. Blood rushed back into her fingers as if prickly pins were needling them.

The sonic weight of the crowd’s attention shifted to the Chief. He ended the press conference as the roaring onslaught of voices grew into a loud chant of “who’s” and “how’s”.

Another officer led Beth under the court porch with its stately white columns. Retreating from the crowd, her legs trembled in relief. The battering ram of voices became a unison of muted noise with no discernible words as they moved further away.

They slipped through a side door, down a hall, to a lower-level staircase, before exiting. Parked away from prying eyes, she saw her husband in the car, engine on, ready to drive off.

The officer ensured she was safely transferred, then rushed back to the building, without saying a word. Beth didn’t mind the officer’s quick departure.

Her brain felt numb as she melted into the seat. Adjusting the a/c vents, she blasted the cold air on her.

River barked the tires as he zipped off in typical fashion. Within a couple of minutes, they merged onto a busy road crammed with after-work traffic. Instead of slowing down, River sped up, jerking the car into the oncoming lane. The angry blare of horns echoed in protest.

He glared at the road. “You should’ve said ‘yes’,” he said, before swerving into the fast lane. “That you are a psychic.”

“I don’t feel like one.”

He glanced at her, “You missed an opportunity, Beth.”

“What opportunity?”

“Talk shows will pay us big bucks,” he answered. “Think of it.”

“I hate talk shows,” she said, gripping the door handle while he weaved through the traffic.

River kept scolding her, but Beth stared out the window. Eventually, the traffic gave way to patches of Loblolly pines and pecan trees. She yearned for sleep. Her mind had shut down, turning River’s words into a meaningless buzz.

Beth longed to curl up in her bed. Bury herself under her covers.

Their marriage was already hanging by a thread. They’d been friends since they were young teenagers. Among her many boyfriends, River had provided an escape from her father.

But then her father died.

At least when he was alive, her mom and sister needed each other. Once her father left, that need died with him. Their relationship splintered like an axe slicing through firewood.

Beth and Lily had grown accustomed to finding distractions away from home. Not much changed after her father was gone.

One of Beth’s escapes came in the form of meeting River at the bookstore to read what he called “New Age”. After one of her breakups, sitting at a table with books piled up in front of them, he’d told her how his mom believed in an astral “river,” and that’s where he got his name. From that moment, a spark was born.

They had jumped into a relationship, moving fast, as did most of Beth’s relationships.

Beth avoided too much solitude. She stayed busy with friends, work, music, writing, or the constant droning of a TV.

Anything to replace silence.

River’s mystique made him different than her other boyfriends. It felt like a sign, so they married.

But the mystery and New Age connection wore off. Beth lost interest. And his overbearing tactics to sway her to accept his spoon-fed guidance had pushed her further away.

Eventually, they lived like roommates. Any attraction she once had for him vanished.

She realized it’d been mostly physical anyway. But now she felt nothing except bitter resentment.

She had one consolation.

At least he didn’t hit her.

——///——

Months had passed since the police found Amelia.

Reporters and crowds now camped outside Beth’s suburban home south of Atlanta, instead of the courthouse steps.

When she peeked outside, she’d see the same charismatic reporter being the center of attention among his peers. With finely groomed hair and animated gestures, they gathered around him like moths to a handsome flame. Even from inside her walls, she could hear their laughter from something he’d said.

Another reporter, much older than the first, held a small notepad and pencil. Quiet and observant, he stood away from the prying collection of people. He scanned up and down the street without ever writing a word. Beth must’ve seen him on the local news station. He looked familiar, but many news people did by now.

All of them huddled on her street like a horde of Georgia gnats.

Reporters followed their every move, seizing opportunities to snap a picture or embellish a story for the next blockbuster headline.

Whether it was gossip, an awkward moment, or a demeaning pose, it made no difference. The more salacious, the better.

Anything to sell a newspaper or magazine.

Reporters chased her and River, running from their favorite restaurant or the gym.

A few times, their faces were plastered on the front of tabloids.

River blamed Beth.

The continual intrusion of cameras had persisted. En masse, tripods swarmed the curb of their front lawn

Buckling under the pressure, River had left.

He moved out.

The constant hounding and lack of privacy had annoyed him.

He abandoned Beth to face it alone. Scrutiny that he had invited. One that he had encouraged, insisting she go public.

Then there was the mail. Beth received some from curious spectators. Some wanted to know how she did it. While others cursed her. Said she was the spawn of evil and would burn in hell, where she “belonged”.

Or worse, some encouraged her to commit suicide.

But Beth hadn’t asked for any of it. She was not a psychic. Yet she had felt a duty to peer into the unseen, into the shadows, when the opportunity came. More of an obligation than anything else.

In the end, they had found Amelia.

For once, Beth was doing something important in the world.

Even if her world was falling apart.

Copyright (C) 2026 T.H. Meyer, Author. All rights reserved.​
​

Subscriber-only: Want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know? I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

If you want to support my work another way, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Stop Wondering Why You’re Here. Start Living the Life You Were Designed For.

Are you feeling stuck in a cycle of “busy” but lacking a sense of true fulfillment? Do you feel a tug at your heart to create, to lead, or to serve, but aren’t sure how to bridge the gap between where you are and where God is calling you?

Your unique talents aren’t accidental—they are your compass. Through a powerful blend of personal journey and practical strategy for your personal growth, Meyer helps you pinpoint the invisible barriers standing between you and your God-given calling. This foundational guide serves as a timeless go-to whether you are just starting your faith journey, looking to reignite your passion for God’s call, or struggling to understand what God has for you. These truths transcend the trends of the day.

In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, and scenes are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

START FROM THE BEGINNING WITH EPISODE 1 »»»>

Or START HERE for a list of all the Episodes

“How did you know where the police would find her?” shouted a reporter.

On the courthouse steps, Beth struggled to find the words to say. People gathered beneath her, eager for her to speak while holding out microphones.

Not a breeze stirred, as if the air stilled in anticipation. Even the sun hid behind a passing cloud as perspiration dampened her armpits. On the back of her neck, sweat beaded in droplets.

Beth’s throat felt dry and scratchy, like she had swallowed sand. Even as a 27-year-old, standing there made her feel small like a child

“Well,” she said, looking at the expectant faces of the people below her. “I just…saw it.”

The deafening silence from the group also resembled the barren landscape in her mind, offering no eloquent answers. Nothing profound surfaced.

Not exactly headline-worthy.

Her heart raced. Being the center of attention was dangerous.

Growing up, Beth had learned to stay silent.

She shied away from exposure.

As a child, she never knew which words would be the wrong ones. Talking made her a target that she avoided at all costs.

“Is it true that your father was a police officer who died in the line of duty while you were 16?” A different reporter shouted above the others.

The question caught Beth off guard. She searched the crowd for her husband, River. Upon spotting him, an irrepressible glow seemed to radiate from his eyes, his chest swelling a few inches, beaming with pride.

Beth gripped the podium until her knuckles turned white.

“That was a long time ago. But yes, he died when I was a teenager,” she said.

She remembered when her father’s friend, Detective Neil, had arrived at her childhood home to deliver the news. Her mom had cried, sobbing into his shoulder.

But not Beth.

Not one solitary tear slid down her face when he passed away. At the funeral, people came up to her saying how “strong” she was. How brave she was.

But it wasn’t bravery or strength.

It was relief.

Lily, Beth, and her mom were finally free.

“That was such a young age to lose your father. I’m sure he was a hero in your eyes. Is that why you helped the police find the body of Amelia?” Another reporter shouted, demanding her attention.

Beth’s mind wandered without answering the question. She stared off in the distance, recalling how her husband had pushed her to come forward.

Had she made a mistake?

But she reminded herself of the vision she had of Amelia.

It started when Beth watched the evening news like everyone else. A 6-year-old girl had disappeared, the story flashing across Beth’s screen. The small town, south of Atlanta, found itself in the national spotlight as search efforts and media reports ramped up.

The TV station had shown a picture of Amelia when suddenly Beth had sensed another image surfacing, fuzzy and faded. Beth closed her eyes, concentrating on Amelia. Willing the far-off impression into view.

The newscaster’s voice faded into the background as a blonde-haired girl with a toothless grin and freckles zoomed forward, like a camera lens adjusting its focus. She had a dark bruise around her neck. With dusk turning to night, Amelia had stood inside a clearing in the woods when a brilliant yellow light lit the sky over the treetops, as if daylight had arrived.

Not just a light—a man. He stepped out of it, sparkling as if he were clothed by the sun.

The glowing man whispered to Amelia and embraced her before they both disappeared together. Amelia did not seem scared.

Beth felt the man’s presence as much as she’d seen it. A heat had created small tremors inside her, followed by a peace that washed over her. Unlike anything Beth had ever known.

Then the scene had jarred to a different, more disturbing one.

In a ditch along a road near trees, Beth had sensed a body lying in it. Rain runoff allowed Amelia to be seen.

Beth detected a location and debated whether the place was a figment of her imagination. In addition, she sensed a timeframe: the day for locating the missing girl.

Friday.

When Beth had seen the vision, she’d been awake. Unlike a dream she had a few years ago when her grandfather died. In it, she’d seen him collapse. Many other details of the dream had lingered after she’d woken up, vivid and clear.

Three weeks later, he died. Just as she’d seen it in her dream.

Beth had felt guilty for not telling her mom beforehand, regret constantly gnawing at her.

This time, when she saw Amelia, Beth had confided in her husband. Not wanting to make the same mistake again.

“Go to the police,” he said, his voice rising in excitement. “The world needs to know.”

He had always treated Beth as if she were a possession. How quickly his thoughts leached onto fame or fortune, viewing her as his golden ticket.

She preferred being anonymous.

Uninvolved.

But after seeing the vision, a hollow ache in Beth’s chest had intensified with each passing hour—Amelia’s face a constant phantom image, haunting her.

The morning after, her eyelids felt heavy, gritty, and raw. Beth hadn’t slept a wink, and the bone-deep fatigue sent a dull ache through every muscle.

Acid had burned her throat. Not the normal reflux she might experience from a zealous jalapeno. This kind had felt like it could burn a hole in her esophagus.

Speak up? Or be quiet? Her mind had buzzed with anxious energy from the epic tug-of-war.

The internal struggle had caused her to wait. But then the police told the public that they had no leads.

Only then did she come forward, inserting herself into the middle of an investigation that had garnered national attention.

“Are you a Psychic?” A different reporter barged into her thoughts, her attention returning to the courthouse steps.

She scanned the group of press correspondents. Some took notes or adjusted their microphones to get closer to the podium, while others stared and waited. Journalists from major media outlets jostled for position to hear her answer.

Maybe Beth was a freak.

Unhinged.

And now, everyone would know it.

Subscriber-only: Want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know? I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

If you want to support my work another way, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Stop Wondering Why You’re Here. Start Living the Life You Were Designed For.

Are you feeling stuck in a cycle of “busy” but lacking a sense of true fulfillment? Do you feel a tug at your heart to create, to lead, or to serve, but aren’t sure how to bridge the gap between where you are and where God is calling you?

Your unique talents aren’t accidental—they are your compass. Through a powerful blend of personal journey and practical strategy for your personal growth, Meyer helps you pinpoint the invisible barriers standing between you and your God-given calling. This foundational guide serves as a timeless go-to whether you are just starting your faith journey, looking to reignite your passion for God’s call, or struggling to understand what God has for you. These truths transcend the trends of the day.

In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, and scenes are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

START FROM THE BEGINNING WITH EPISODE 1 »»»>

Or START HERE for a list of all the Episodes

His face twisted into a seething scowl. With every heartbeat, a blue line strained against his forehead, rapidly thumping at the temple. A twitching vein ready to burst.

His jaw clenched like a taut drumhead pulled over the drum shell. Brows deeply furrowed. Eyes narrowed. Dark as soot.

If there were a time to be a “Special,” now would be it.

But no power came to Beth.

Instead, her own heartbeat hammered in her ears, a frantic echo vibrating her whole body.

“Say it again,” her father commanded Lily. By now, Lily was crying, stumbling over her words.

Saturday cartoons were cancelled. Instead, their father had summoned them to sit by each other in front of him.

What started as practice shattered into a terrifying recital of the A,B,C’s. Even as a preschooler, Lily knew them well. But fear caused her to stutter, scrambling her words.

Beth watched, barely able to breathe. Air squeezed through the narrow chamber of her throat as if an invisible hand constricted it.

“A, B…..D?” Lily said between sobs.

Beth tensed in anticipation. His finger, the one with a large class ring, walloped against Lily’s forehead. At the sound of the large gold jewelry striking against bone, Beth flinched. Her legs were tucked under her as she gripped her knees for another round.

“Again!”

A sick mist had covered her father’s face. The familiar pulsating shadow controlled him.

Her father’s eyes vanished, replaced by twin tunnels of ink. Pupils dilated to thin, jagged circles—the stare of a predator.

Everything moved in slow motion.

Surreal.

Separate but still there.

Beth’s peripheral vision darkened and blurred into a narrow tunnel.

Her mind lit up as if a slide projector were stuck on high speed. A thousand fictitious scenes ran at full throttle. One’s filled with the “what ifs” that could happen. Perhaps they’d be thrown against the wall, limp as ragdolls. Or he’d grab a butcher knife. Stab them. Or punch them ‘til black and blue.

None of it had happened—only the gold ring, smacking Lily.

Yet, the deadly intrusive thoughts showed her what was possible.

Terrorized her.

Beth peered at the shadow, its edges violently shimmering and surging. It seemed to look back at her.

The scenes were not just her own imagination.

They belonged to the shadow.

It wanted her to see them. The scenes and impressions showed its nature.

Exposed its rage.

The shadow wanted to hurt her. It wanted nothing more than for evil to have free diabolical reign. Spewing hatred.

It used her father. She sensed the shadow’s vile hatred of her very life through him.

It wanted her dead.

Murdered, preferably.

She watched as the shadow foisted its abomination on its captor—her father. He was its prey as much as Beth and Lily were. Somehow, it had access to their family, able to infect its fatal malice.

They were alone with it.

When a second shadow emerged.

Beth watched the second shadow, a wide-mouthed creature, stoop to her father’s ear. It moved as if it were speaking. But Beth could only hear Lily’s soft sobbing.

Beth’s eyes widened as she watched it slither near Lily. She wondered what wicked plans it had for her sister. Leaning near Lily’s ear, the twisted mouth moved once more, as if speaking.

But Beth only heard her pulse racing like horse hooves in her ears when the front door burst open. Her mom’s quick trip to the grocery store felt like an eternity ago.

Rushing in, she made a beeline to the kitchen, unaware of the firing squad moments before. Her mom carried a brown paper bag in each arm, groceries peeking over the top. Keys jangled like wind chimes, hanging haphazardly from one hand.

“I got the eggs,” she said, oblivious of the tense audience inside the room. Earlier, an empty egg carton had angered her father, forcing the trip in the first place.

Her mom walked between her father on one side and Beth and Lily on the other. The wake of her path split the room in two, a vessel slicing through the heaviness and disrupting the atmosphere.

Beth scanned the room for the two shadows.

But they had disappeared.

As if a spell had been broken, her father stood up, joining her mom in the kitchen, checking the bags. Ensuring she’d bought everything he’d asked for.

Beth grabbed Lily’s hand as they hurried to Beth’s bedroom. Easing the door closed, she turned the knob, making as little noise as possible.

Instantly, Lily shoved her thumb in her mouth. More tears pooled in her big, round eyes as wet drops streaked trails down her swollen face.

She held Lily, as if that could erase the memories.

And Beth made a vow.

She’d never be in an abusive situation like her mom.

Ever.

The rest of the day slipped behind a blurry haze of memories. Beth didn’t remember much else.

After dark, Lily quietly slipped out of her room and crawled next to Beth. A plan they had hatched earlier that afternoon.

When sleep came, Beth’s usual dream of flying, or more like floating, came to her. It began like most. A buoyant hover caused a flutter in her belly, as if butterfly wings brushed inside her stomach. The light upward drifting provided an escape from the terrors below.

Weightless as a feather.

Up she went, toward an aqua-blue sky. Lily briefly floated beside her. A city of rooftops below them turned into jig-sawed dots, like specks of sand.

Before long, Beth floated alone.

On the horizon, Beth watched a black line emerge. A dark wall clawed higher, exploding in her direction. Lightning struck the earth, followed by a shockwave that snarled and rumbled.

Beth commanded her body to go down. But instead, was pulled higher.

Wildly flapping her arms as if they were the wings of a bird, she tried to return below. But she continued to float in the same slow trajectory upward, contrasted by the encroaching black-pitch storm drawing closer.

Reaching the outer atmosphere, an ebony of outer space awaited, where no stars appeared. Only a quiet, eerie silence. No Milky Way or Big Dipper. Just a vast, frightening emptiness.

Utterly alone in a cosmic tomb.

A sense of falling caused Beth’s body to jerk.

Her eyes flew open, fully awake.

With a residual tickle in her stomach, the dreams never felt like a dream. They felt alive with vivid, colorful detail. The buoyant lightness stayed with Beth like sticky residue. Every image, every sensation, every detail was crystal clear.

The storms even haunted her dreams.

Stalking her.

If only she could fly away with her sister. Every morning after one of those dreams, the new day felt fresh with possibilities. She’d watched every episode of Wonder Woman and Superman.

Yet reality kept her grounded. Safety needed to be found, down here. She needed a strategy. To discover a better way for her mom and sister.

Another world lived beyond the thin veil of walls and men. Beth knew it. Had seen it. This hidden place of shadows existed. Keeping their power inside an invisible realm, toying with her family.

But the darkness showed evidence, too. If there were shadows, then there must also be light.

If fear could strangle its victims, then there had to be a love that could release them. If monsters could terrorize, then there had to be a hero who could rescue.

Beth would be that hero.

Thanks for reading! I’m working on the next Director’s Cut. Be on the lookout!

Subscriber-only: If you want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know, I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

If you want to support my work another way, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Stop Wondering Why You’re Here. Start Living the Life You Were Designed For.

Are you feeling stuck in a cycle of “busy” but lacking a sense of true fulfillment? Do you feel a tug at your heart to create, to lead, or to serve, but aren’t sure how to bridge the gap between where you are and where God is calling you?

Your unique talents aren’t accidental—they are your compass. Through a powerful blend of personal journey and practical strategy for your personal growth, Meyer helps you pinpoint the invisible barriers standing between you and your God-given calling. This foundational guide serves as a timeless go-to whether you are just starting your faith journey, looking to reignite your passion for God’s call, or struggling to understand what God has for you. These truths transcend the trends of the day.

In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

START FROM THE BEGINNING WITH EPISODE 1 ««

Previous Chapter 5 <Click here>

Or START HERE for a list of all the Episodes

Beth lightly stepped into her house, uncertain of the mood of her father. Yet, the moment she crossed the doorway, he grinned, beckoning her closer.

She placed her reading book on the coffee table and continued to watch him as she approached. Within his reach, he pulled her to sit on his knee.

Leaning back against his chest, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Beth watched Lily on the floor, making her baby doll “eat” its food. She could hear her mom bumping around in the kitchen.

“I was thinking we should go to the library,” he said, raking his free hand through a thick mass of dark hair.

She’d always thought he looked like a young Elvis. Similar to the one she’d seen on the covers of her mom’s vinyl record collection.

Beth loved to read. Her father did too. It was the one thing they had in common.

Thinking of books, Beth’s body relaxed, the tension melting. “For how long?”

“I need to investigate something. It might be a while,” he said.

If only he’d stay like this.

Friendly.

Approachable.

Calm.

Beth nodded in agreement to the library trip, not passing up a visit there. She thought of Mr. Banks, what he’d said during class earlier. Perfect timing to learn about E.S.P. and telekinesis. To get an idea of how to use it.

Their local library breathed with magic. Inside the antique-brick building, a spiral staircase led to a second-story landing where a large loft held more books. Rows and rows disappeared into the back.

Downstairs, the shelves created walled-off sections with private aisles. Pages stuffed from ceiling to floor.

Beth kept a favorite spot among the dusty-laden corridors, stories surrounding her. She enjoyed the hunt. Finding a variety to read.

Carrying her treasures, she’d return to the forgotten corner that most people didn’t notice. A large leather stool awaited where she’d lean against the wall.

For hours, she’d stay.

A respectful stillness mingled with the scent of lemon oil meant to remove smudges on the ancient wood floors. Only an occasional sneeze or cough interrupted the quiet.

Hints of cherry pipe tobacco, sweet and smoky, clung to a gray-bearded man as they passed him coming through the door. Beth made a beeline for the large oak card catalog and pulled open a drawer. Puffs of dust from aged paper fanned a soft, biscuity fragrance from thousands of typed index cards stuffed away for decades.

She watched her father carry a few thick academic books related to police investigations that the librarian had saved for him. As he settled at a table near the front door, a partner from his work also came inside. With eyebrows pressed together, he saw her father and raced to him.

Her father seemed irritated. They exchanged a few words, looked around, and then both darted outside. Beth could see them standing on the sidewalk beyond the glass doors.

An exhilarated shudder sprouted goosebumps on her arms.

The whole library belonged to her.

Tingling with excitement, her heart pounded with freedom. The same sensation happened whenever she walked into a library. As she left the oak cabinet, she searched the spines of books.

Hidden from view, she didn’t walk alone. With each corner she rounded, a dark path turned before her. As if showing her the way.

Passing a few rows, she came to a section she rarely visited. As a frosty breeze grazed her skin, Beth hesitated, startled by the sharp temperature drop.

With a chill sliding down her spine like ice dripping from her neck, coldness clung to her bones. The pause was enough for her to see a book. One sitting slightly pulled away from the rest on the shelf, near the edge.

“How to Be One of the Specials–A Dive Into ESP & Telekinesis,” by Dr. Banks and Dr. Lovett. She reread the spine. Here was the book she’d been looking for. Found within minutes.

It felt like a stroke of luck.

Or fate.

Beth grabbed the gem along with a few other titles next to it. She carried them to her corner and wasted no time reading.

Two hours later, maybe more, her father found her and signaled it was time to leave. Once he disappeared to check out his books, Beth quickly returned the ones she’d been devouring, placing them back on the shelf.

Nobody needed to know.

Stepping outside, snake-like strands of her long hair were whipped by a powerful wind. Clouds gathered, obscuring the sun and its warmth. Beth hurried to the car.

Educated now, she could begin her mission to apply what she’d learned. Climbing into the front seat, the air smelled like a stale cigarette ashtray, causing her to wrinkle her nose at the rancid odor.

Her father didn’t smoke. However, her aunt and uncles did, her uncles favoring Marlboros.

Pulling her shirt to her nose, Beth sniffed. She must’ve worn it the last time she visited her aunt.

With an elegant flair, her aunt would hold her long cigarette in the air, resembling a movie star. In one deep inhale, she puffed on a Virginia Slim 120 with its plastic filter. Every exhale created a considerable white cloud that gradually floated upwards.

Disregarding the smell, Beth pondered Mr. Banks’ talk. She clung to his words. And the ones she’d read in his book.

Lost in her thoughts, Beth was oblivious to the three dark figures in the back seat. Each with its own distinct features.

One looked like the creature that frightened her when it moved along her wall at night. The second manifested as an angry black mist, its borders rippling like a violent ocean surf against the shore, capable of obscuring her father’s features. The third shape featured an enormous, twisted mouth that gaped open as if it were yelling or screaming in pain.

Beth watched from her window as they drove past the large live oaks whose branches drooped to the earth. Some dripped with Spanish moss like an eerie green ghost hanging from a noose.

She might have discovered a way for herself, her mom, and her sister to break free. Staring at the landscape, she imagined a different life.

Ascending a gentle rise, the twisting rural path offered a view of the rolling hills that always brought her contentment. Towering trees gave way to grassy fields in a melody she could not hear. But Beth longed to know its celestial sound.

Suddenly, the sun’s intense rays pierced the overcast heavens. From every hole, sunshine erupted, its beams reaching down to stroke the fields, resembling fingers caressing the grass.

Beth gazed at the luminous “fingers” as though a Divine force had intervened in her reality. The passengers in the back seat were now gone without a whisper as the car sped off.

Time stood still.

Across the horizon, Beth watched the sky darken like a rolling black carpet heading toward them. Georgians knew the danger of a spring tornado.

The abrupt weather change made Beth think of her father’s fatal switch, always on the verge of being flipped. She didn’t need a forecast.

Exploding storms were a part of her.

Thanks for reading! If you want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know, I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

Subscribe for Free Episodes & subscriber-only releases of the Director’s Cut.

If you want to support my work, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Stop Wondering Why You’re Here. Start Living the Life You Were Designed For.

Are you feeling stuck in a cycle of “busy” but lacking a sense of true fulfillment? Do you feel a tug at your heart to create, to lead, or to serve, but aren’t sure how to bridge the gap between where you are and where God is calling you?

In A Life of Creative Purpose, T.H. Meyer reveals that your unique talents aren’t accidental—they are your compass. Through a powerful blend of personal journey and practical strategy for your personal growth, Meyer helps you pinpoint the invisible barriers standing between you and your God-given calling. This foundational guide serves as a timeless go-to whether you are just starting your faith journey, looking to reignite your passion for God’s call, or struggling to understand what God has for you. These truths transcend the trends of the day.

In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

START FROM THE BEGINNING WITH EPISODE 1 »»»>

Or START HERE for a list of all the Episodes

Beth couldn’t take her eyes off the speaker who had visited her science class. Mr. Banks shared about his study and writing contributions on E.S.P. and telepathy. She always thought of science as boring.

But this?

It could be the key to saving her mom and sister.

As he talked, Mr. Banks fixed his attention on her as if she were the only one in the room. Everyone else faded to the background as she became the center of each discovery he shared.

A tether seemed to connect them as she absorbed any scrap of knowledge he handed her, perched under his table of wisdom.

That awful Sunday, when her father had last walked out in a temper, seemed a lifetime ago. Now, she sat on a plastic seat at her desk while Mr. Banks downloaded his experiences.

It was as if he had read her diary, if she had ever kept one.

But she never wrote a word of it down. Beth hated the thought of all her secrets being penned on a vulnerable page.

He mentioned “apparitions.” Just as she suspected, they existed, and people could see them. That is, he added, only the “Specials” could see them. That was the science term—Specials.

After class, she lingered as her classmates filed out, the loud bell buzzing. She saw Mr. Banks whisper to her teacher as Ms. McQuinn waved a hand with a “come here” gesture.

Beth looked behind her to see which classmate her teacher was beckoning. But nobody else was left in the room except her and the two adults.

“Me,” she mouthed while pointing a finger toward herself.

“Yes, yes, come,” Ms. McQuinn said, waving her arm in a big circle.

With her books pressed against her chest, Beth slowly walked towards the wise man who had spoken, as if he knew of her hidden world. Each step led to standing before the possible answer. Ms. McQuinn, tired of waiting, had turned to the chalkboard with an eraser as she left Beth and Mr. Banks to talk alone.

“You seemed really interested in what I shared,” he said, his eyes never straying from her face.

She shrugged while looking down, “It’s just that I’ve never heard anyone say those things before.”

“You mean like ‘percipient’, ‘sensitive’, or the ‘Specials’?”

“Yes, you said they….,” she looked to left and right, before whispering, “...see things?”

He stared at her without responding. Not one blink, just eyes looking straight at her.

Beth squirmed, thinking of what to say in the silence.

“Like, what kind of people are they?” She probed, talking to the ground in front of her feet.

“Ones like you, Beth.”

At the sound of her name, Beth’s head jolted up, thinking she’d imagined it.

“Ms. McQuinn told me.”

“Told you what?”

“Your name.” He seemed to penetrate her thoughts, extracting them without her speaking them. “You see them, don’t you?”

Beth refused to speak. She only felt safe with Lily and her mom. Besides, nobody would believe her, not even Mr. Banks. Instead, she swallowed any answers that she might’ve spit out.

“You have a power, Beth. It makes you special, one of the Specials. You need to learn how to control it,” he said softly enough that Ms. McQuinn couldn’t hear.

Special? The word seemed too incredible, too amazing for a girl like her.

But for the first time, she felt connected.

Understood.

Affirmed.

She felt seen.

Despite the chaos of a violent reality where shadows and monsters lived in two worlds, she was not alone.

Ms. McQuinn turned around. Realizing Beth was still there, she immediately shooed Beth out of the room. “Off to recess with you,” she said, physically turning her towards the door and giving her a gentle push.

Beth barely remembered hurrying down the hall. Her head still swam with what Mr. Banks had said.

How would she learn “to control it” to officially be one of the Specials? She was not sure she could.

Beth had never felt “special”. But when Mr. Banks said it, the word oozed like warm honey dripping sweetness to her soul.

For a split second, she allowed the word to penetrate, wondering if it could find a place inside her. He made her feel set apart—different.

She most definitely felt odder than most.

A loud screech of metal on metal stopped her replaying the day’s events as the school bus doors creaked open. Beth skipped down, still pondering it on her short walk home.

As she rounded a corner, Beth saw her father’s car parked in the driveway.

She stopped.

Why was he home so early?

With slow, deliberate steps, she inched toward the door. Dread replaced all thoughts of school. Reaching the solid slab of knotted oak, she glared at the wood’s grain.

She put her hand on the steely-cold knob and turned it until it clicked open.

Walk beside Beth into the unknown, delivered straight to your inbox.

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Thanks for reading! If you want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know, I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

Subscribe for Free Episodes & subscriber-only releases of the Director’s Cut.

If you want to support my work, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Stop Wondering Why You’re Here. Start Living the Life You Were Designed For.

Are you feeling stuck in a cycle of “busy” but lacking a sense of true fulfillment? Do you feel a tug at your heart to create, to lead, or to serve, but aren’t sure how to bridge the gap between where you are and where God is calling you?

The Evergreen Core Message

In A Life of Creative Purpose, T.H. Meyer reveals that your unique talents aren’t accidental—they are your compass. Through a powerful blend of personal journey and practical strategy for your personal growth, Meyer helps you pinpoint the invisible barriers standing between you and your God-given calling. This foundational guide serves as a timeless go-to whether you are just starting your faith journey, looking to reignite your passion for God’s call, or struggling to understand what God has for you. These truths transcend the trends of the day.

Full Summary of, What The Shadows Know: Beth Cane’s glass-house life sits on the shifting sands of New Age promises and unhealed echoes of a traumatic childhood. After being haunted by creeping shadows and disturbing visions, she accepts that she was marked at birth—cursed. But when she encounters a cryptic stranger, his riddles penetrate through the heavy veil of darkness and confusion.

In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, and scenes are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

START FROM THE BEGINNING WITH EPISODE 1 »»»>

Or START HERE for a list of all the Episodes

Beth wished her father had never come back from the hospital after that gun had fallen out of the glove box and shot him in the leg.

She saw her mom’s voice return to a whisper when he raised his. Or how Lily sucked her thumb whenever he entered the room. Or how the temperature dropped, and the air suspended into a lethal silence when the placid current of his temper was disturbed.

Anger invited its own kind of shadows into the room.

Beth could see the dark cousin of the shadow “man” hover nearby her father before shrouding his face, skewing it into a sneer. The pulsating blackness seemed to possess him.

Along with it, a shadow of fear put its slimy hands on her shoulders as it clung to her like a deadly chain shackling her to the floor.

Beth did not know life any other way. She only understood these moments.

It never occurred to her that a father could harness his anger. Reign it in. That a father could be displeased without causing a terror that strangled her with a ferocious grasp.

The weekend had dragged at a snail’s pace in riveting agony. Familiar dread had stained her vigilance with its pernicious foreboding.

Minutes seemed to stall.

Mondays provided an exit. School gave Beth an escape.

Recess was another one of her favorites. She and her classmates would take turns on the see-saw, play freeze-tag, or hopscotch. Her teachers seemed nice enough, even though they got on her for talking too much.

But it was not Monday yet. And this Sunday throbbed with apprehension like a vein popping against the neck.

Before bedtime, the wait was over. A ghastly fuse ignited in an unholy dynamite of events. Her father half-dragged, half-shoved her mom down the hall and into their bedroom.

Slamming the door caused the windows in Lily’s room to rattle and the walls to shake where Beth and Lily played with their dolls. They jumped from its impact.

Then Beth heard a loud crash from inside her parents’ room. As if on cue, Lily started screaming. Beth scooched toward her and wrapped an arm around Lily’s rigid frame.

But she was inconsolable.

The shrill cries made Beth’s heart feel like it could explode from her chest.

With helpless bravado, she bolted from her sister’s side to stand in front of the weighty wooden door. Struggling to breathe, the air seemed to funnel through a straw.

Her vision narrowed until she could barely see as panic pressed against her temples. Listening with her ear pressed against the cold grain, she heard her mom’s hushed voice.

“Please, the kids….” Then a muffled thud of a hard surface hitting something soft.

“You’re too stupid,” her father spat out. “Nobody would want you.”

Her mom whimpered, causing Beth to push against the door. With Lily still screaming behind her, Beth didn’t wait and flung it wide open.

Her father’s fist was still wrapped like a boa constrictor around a bedside lamp, raised over his head. Her mom used a hand to protect her face, her eyes squeezed shut. When nothing happened, she looked up. Black streaks ran down her face while she slumped into a ball at the headboard.

Her father twisted to look toward the open doorway. After seeing Beth there, he placed the lamp back in its place and held her gaze.

Beth stood her ground as if she were a gunslinger in a western standoff. She braced herself like a pint-sized Wonder Woman, hands on her hips, and imagined a superhuman force surging through her.

Glaring at him, she aimed every pent-up, angry, raging thought and laser-beamed it at his muscular body. The saying goes, “if looks could kill,” and Beth added, “if thoughts could too.”

She faced her tormentor without flinching. Hatred oozed from every pore as she sent daggers of bitter memories in his direction.

Then abruptly, he quietly brushed past her and walked out. Straight out the front door, he went.

And good riddance, she thought.

Beth poured energy into making him leave, and it worked. Maybe he’d take what haunted them with him.

But just out of view from behind her, two shadows watched with approval. They lurked with their viperish presence, entering through a contagion of emotions. But she did not notice.

Instead, her focus stayed on the long hall outside her parents’ bedroom. No returning footsteps. No thundering rage pounded its way back inside.

Shattered souls were all that remained.

Just whimpers.

Sobs.

Beth hoped never to see him again. That he’d be gone forever. Maybe then, they would live in peace.

She would celebrate his absence. No guilt or shame would be felt from it.

Her mom, who now had a purple mark rising on her cheek, continued crying. “We can’t make it by ourselves.”

Beth sat on the bed next to her. “We are better off without him. We don’t need him.”

“But I don’t have a job. Where will we go?”

“Anywhere, but here. We can pack our bags and leave now.”

“I guess we could go to my family in New York. I haven’t seen them since we married.”

With a hopeful spark, “Yes, your family! I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

“I don’t know…”

“We need to go, Mom, please.”

Beth grabbed her mom’s arm, trying to pull her off the bed. But their energy drained out like water circling the spout of a tub before the liquid disappeared into nothing.

“It’s getting late. Let’s wait until tomorrow,” her mom said as she stood up, then left Beth’s side to tuck Lily into bed.

Beth’s spark faded as quickly as it had appeared. She’d seen this too many times. Her father would whittle his way back into their life with shallow promises. “It’ll be different.” Or “If you hadn’t made me so angry.” And “I won’t do it again.”

Waiting for tomorrow left a ruinous crack. One big enough for him. A tired moment of weakness would open the door for Dr. Jekyll to return.

Beth lived in a real-life Twilight Zone. Shadow “man” seemed to feed off fear, for which her father supplied plenty of it.

Defeated, she returned to her own bedroom. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she hugged herself on top of the bed, rocking back and forth as if she were in one of their chairs on the front porch.

Her body shook. Each limb like Jell-O, loose and jiggly. Yet, the soothing rhythm settled the convulsing quake inside her.

But not an hour later, maybe more, a series of uneven clacking sounds on the wood floor caused the hall to creak and groan. She heard her father’s mumbling voice, echoing quietly from under her door.

“SSh-tay shh-till,’“ he said to himself.

The off-beaten shuffling alternated with a swooshing of skin against drywall as if a heavy broom was dragging its bristles. She heard him stumble past her door before retreating into his bedroom.

In that moment, Beth decided that if he could use his rage to hurt others, she swore to use hers to save them. If her mom couldn’t rescue them, then Beth would.

With a bone-deep weariness, she collapsed into the pillows’ downy softness. She took one last, hopeful glance at the mysterious painting on her wall.

As she stared at the only safe comfort in her room, several gray shadows peered in and watched from outside her window. But then they vanished as headlights from a car lit up her window before it turned dark again.

Beth did not notice any of it. Exhaustion pulled her eyelids shut until she fell into a fitful night of dreams.

Thanks for reading! If you want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know, I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

Subscribe for Free Episodes & subscriber-only releases of the Director’s Cut.

If you need a lighter read and want to support my work, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Full Summary of book, What The Shadows Know: Beth Cane’s glass-house life sits on the shifting sands of New Age promises and unhealed echoes of a traumatic childhood. After being haunted by creeping shadows and disturbing visions, she accepts that she was marked at birth—cursed. But when she encounters a cryptic stranger, his riddles penetrate through the heavy veil of darkness and confusion.

In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

The closet didn’t give Beth claustrophobia the same way as when her father would tickle her while he pinned her down. Clawing at him to stop, she would gasp as she choked on the air squeezed from her lungs.

Instead, the narrow walls provided refuge. A self-made cocoon.

“Where are you?”

Beth heard her mom calling. But she hesitated as long as possible. She’d fallen asleep, underneath clothes hanging above her like protective banners.

During the day, she would bury her lanky frame into a corner facing the splinter of light from under the door. Her skinny arms would hug her knees.

She escaped—especially on days like this one.

“Breakfast is ready,” her mom hollered.

Beth’s bare feet scarcely made a sound as she walked into the dining room. The kitchen was a battleground of aromas with competing scents of hickory, applewood smoke, caramelized sugar, and toasted grain.

Her family was already seated. Mechanically arranging their selections on their plates, an array of eggs, bacon, waffles, biscuits, and jellies splayed out like a king’s buffet.

Even though the Sunday morning hour slipped closer to noon, a lead weight sat in Beth’s stomach. Hunger had no room.

Waffles were usually her favorite. She would lather butter into every waffle crevice and smother it in corn syrup.

But not this morning

Instead, a queasiness rolled like gangrenous waves in the pit of her. Beth’s jaw ached from the clenching tension, ever since Friday night.

And still, it was not over.

Some weekends summoned him. Within the caged paneling of their walls, her father paced room to room like a savage animal.

He worked on and off weekends. But when he was off, the typical recreational days were contaminated with awful suspense.

The crowded table of food functioned as a peace offering. An olive branch, waving its white flag to ward off the enemy.

Afterwards, the dishes were hand-washed and put away. Only to have her mom scurry about the house in a manic search to ensure nothing was out of place.

No doll tossed on the couch.

No shoes by the door.

No dust on the coffee table.

No coloring books on the floor.

Just in time for a rerun of her father’s favorite show, The Three Stooges. When it came on, he forced Beth and her sister, Lily, to watch too. When Moe poked Curly in the eyes, her father laughed.

Beth hated it.

She recoiled every time a Stooge smacked another. By the end of the episode, acid would rake her insides.

Lily, even though she was two years younger, did not dare whimper. Her quiet, frantic gaze locked with Beth as they sat stiff as statues.

They waited until the credits rolled across the screen of their oversized TV in hopes he’d permit them to leave his presence.  Then he called for their mom.

“Get me a beer,” he grinned. A grin Beth did not trust as she silently begged that the sleeping Goliath would stay dormant. After opening the bottle, her mom plopped next to him like they were newlyweds.

For a sliver of time, Beth could breathe again, not realizing that she’d been holding it. Her mind replayed other moments, better ones. Flashing like Polaroid snapshots, they reminded her that not everything was dangerous or dark.

Wasn’t he the same father who taught Beth and Lily how to swim? Or who let them drive an actual car on a backwoods tree-tunneled road? Or spent entire weekends with a gaggle of cousins kicking up Georgia’s blood-red dirt or sleeping on the porch like one big Brady Bunch?

In those glimpses, Beth pretended for just a little while. She paused time and pulled out the images of brighter minutes or hours, willing them not to end.

But they always did.

START FROM THE BEGINNING WITH EPISODE 1 »»»>

Thanks for reading! If you want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know, I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

Subscribe for Free Episodes & subscriber-only releases of the Director’s Cut.

If you need a lighter read and want to support my work, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith, terrorized to triumph. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. And if you’ve followed my non-fiction over the years—fair warning, this serialized story’s dark beginning deviates from my normal narrative writing. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

At the end of a dead-end street sat their frame house like a silent, lone guard. Theirs was the last one, just before the road dropped into the catacombs of dense woods. In winter, the large Georgia pines displayed their green dressings among the deathly-pale gray branches of oaks and Sweetgums.

Beth took one last glance at the tenuous slivers of light slicing through the towering trees as their car pulled out of the drive. Switching her gaze to the front window, she noticed a Pontiac Trans Am, barreling towards them. It had popped over the hill as if on a morbid mission to land in the dark expanse of forest behind them.

Her father gripped the steering wheel, jerking it to the right, then equally to the left. Beth and her sister, Lily, were thrown against each other, skulls smacking bone and flesh. With a final lurch, they bounced off the backs of the front seat as their car stopped in the middle of the street.

A split second later, a fiendish bang blasted inside the car, so loud a wave of pressure shot through Beth’s ears. As if deaf, the world turned to a muted silence. Her ears felt like thick cotton stuffed inside, trapping an incessant ringing.

She heard only the muffled voice of her mom.

A gun? Loaded?

Beth’s eyes darted to her mom’s mouth to read her lips.

She realized that during the commotion, a nebulous pistol had fallen out of the glove box and fired a round. The bullet had thankfully landed in the flesh of her father’s leg.

An ambulance arrived and took him to the hospital. Relief at his retreating presence would’ve comforted her, if not for the residual echoes from the blast vibrating inside her. Any sound of sirens was drowned out by the high-pitch still pinging in her ears.

From across the street, the curious elderly neighbors came to assist and volunteered to take her and Lily to wait at their house.

As they followed them, Beth’s muddled thoughts fragmented like numbed projectiles. But once inside their house, burning menthol stung her nostrils, mixed with the comforting and familiar, dry aroma of baby powder

Minutes turned into hours.

The tick-tock-tick-tock of the mantel clock mocked the tomb-like quietness. Beth squirmed in her chair at the biting, caustic stillness.

On the surface, Beth’s family looked normal. Only those who lived beyond their white picket fence knew the violent secrets firmly locked behind their front door.

She had learned to ride her bike on this street. Their giant Labrador stayed in the backyard, ready to put his front paws on her shoulders and lick her face. She took tumbling classes and tap lessons.

After school, she made mud pies or swung on the metal swing set, which threatened to tip over when she got too high. A few houses down sat a small store where she and her sister would get Jolly Ranchers and bubble gum.

Pine floors creaked and moaned when the ancient floor heater blew its hot breath into the hallway. Saturday cartoons brightened the morning from an oversized TV that took up a good portion of square feet in the den. No remote controls. Just a manual twist of a cumbersome knob as it clunked with each turn

But by twilight, Beth watched an ominous thin veil appear between the world she could see with her eyes and the precarious one beyond it. During the wretched nightfall, it flexed its acrimonious dominance.

Rising through the coal-black, an ashen, unseen world exposed a perilous underbelly. A robust evil swelled in strength against an ebony sky.

This darkened realm did not disappear by day. It remained—evident by the occasional flitting of butterflies in Beth’s stomach. From the spiritual world, she sensed something or someone was watching.

Yet the sun’s penetrating light pushed the shadows to the periphery. Still active but less visible. It was like a power source of its own, the brightest star keeping fear at arm’s length.

After each torment of the night, the climbing rays of dawn strummed their beating radiance. It warmed Beth’s skin and kissed it with hope. The sunrise carried the glowing glimmers of rising courage.

Then there was the painting. In her bedroom, the prized possession hung.

Some days, her finger traced the painted trail in the picture as she ached to climb inside it, to be safely frozen on the canvas. The oiled print seemed to exude its own magnetic pull, away from the paleness of dread and the cowardice of night.

But without fail, the darkness returned under a sky poked with stars.

A familiar fear reached its gaunt fingers for her, night after night. She felt it in the chill crawling across her skin before she ever saw its haggard shape.

Yet, the picture on the wall guarded all the same.

Oddly enough, the shadow “man” never smudged its presence on that side of the room. The frame’s origin, with its simmering offer of hope, eluded her.

What is its history? How did it come to be in her room?

Beth did not ask.

But the shadows seemed to know.

GO TO EPISODE 1 »»»>

GO TO EPISODE 3 »»»>

Thanks for reading! If you want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know, I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

Subscribe for Free Episodes & subscriber-only releases of the Director’s Cut.

If you need a lighter read and want to support my work, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith, terrorized to triumph. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble. And if you’ve followed my non-fiction over the years—fair warning, this serialized story’s dark beginning deviates from my normal narrative writing. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

The Silverberry bush scraped its skeletal, spindle branches against Beth’s window. Only the milky moon, casting its jagged bone-white vapor, pierced the inky black. Gritty scents of a clogged ashtray flooded the bedroom like a leeching smog.

Beth hated the tentacles of fear that stung her thoughts like an octopus touching her mind with poison. The hair on her neck stood up like porcupine needles.

As her body shivered, it caused the pressed sheets to quiver like a ghost. The crisp Ivory soap still lingered on the fresh linen, mingled with the stagnant, foul air. But its scent anchored her to reality.

With wide eyes, she kept them on the shadow that slithered on her wall. A dark creature that took on a ghastly human form.

Shadow “man”.

The faceless silhouette of murky-gray resembled a breathless head, shoulders, and body. Yet, no human eyes or mouth. Only a shape.

But more than a shape.

Nobody else was in her room. That is, no earthly body.

Just Beth.

She pulled the covers up to her chin. An urge to bury her face under the neon pink of her Barbie blanket caused her hands to shake. But she refused to take her eyes off the wall. Off the soul-less shadow “man”.

He watched her, too. She felt a diabolical glee, commanding the room like a parasite.

A tingle raced down her back like icy fingers. Paralyzed, she lay stiff as a coffin. Frost seemed to settle under the covers. A hollow coldness touched her toes, her feet, and her fingers— it almost felt like burning.

If only she could faint or pass out or close her eyes until it was gone.

But she did not. Beth knew she needed to be awake, to defend herself. Yet, how does a six-year-old fight against devilish ghouls?

The lead-gray entity now slithered closer until its feet-less blob shrouded near her bed. Disappearing under it, she saw it reappear, raising her like a magical illusionist levitating his assistant toward the ceiling. Beth looked down at the mattress below her and heard a blood-curdling scream.

She barely recognized her own voice shrieking in alarm.

In a flash, her mom appeared next to her, breathless and disheveled. She imagined Beth being murdered or attacked, only to look around the room and let out a sigh as her shoulders dropped in relief. Then her eyebrows narrowed, and a frown signaled her displeasure.

“It lifted me off my bed!” Beth exclaimed.

“Just a dream,” her mom said as she yawned and rubbed her eyes.

She was annoyed. With a full moon exposing the hidden corners, Beth could see it on her face.

“But it was here, and it left as soon as you came in.”

“You only imagined it. Now, go to sleep. You have school tomorrow.” Then her mom kissed her goodnight with a dismissive peck and left.

Sleep?

Sleep escaped her as if commanded by a sinister force to prevent her eyes from closing. Though she begged her body to release the hold of its fitful vigilance, every muscle remained tense as a board.

Beth had tried. She watched as the last soothing light turned off and her parents went to bed. The sun had also slipped its promise of safety beyond the borders of its horizon. All the preoccupations of daily life were replaced by the dead weight of a shimmering murkiness, hijacking the atmosphere.

Her frayed nerves tingled even before the desolate visitors appeared. Otherworldly voices whispered loudly and yet undistinguishably. Malicious forces injected a venomous air into the room.

Why did the adults think it was nothing?

Her mom spent the days and weekends rushing about the house without so much as a pause or notice that something else lived there, too. A manic list of chores kept the rooms spotless, dustless, and sparkling clean. She never truly rested.

On a rare occasion, though, Beth would hear her on the phone, which hung from their kitchen wall. She’d laugh and talk in a shrill voice as if masking the undertone of her own separate horrors.

Beth’s family was no stranger to danger.

With his time at the police force, her father’s battle-worn mind was prone to brutality. She, along with her Mom and sister, lived each day, measuring his mood.

They watched his eyes for the dark glint where sanity escaped into a vault of anger. Or his voice that exploded into the growl of a wild beast.

It could be a fist in the wall. Or red, blotchy fingerprints across the cheek.

They never knew what would set him off. Or if they would live to tell about it.

GO TO EPISODE 2 »»»>

Thanks for reading! If you want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know, I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

If you need a lighter read and want to support my work, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

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Beth’s glass-house life sits on the shifting sands of New Age promises and unhealed echoes of a traumatic childhood. After being haunted by creeping shadows and disturbing visions, she accepts that she was marked at birth—cursed. But when she encounters a cryptic stranger, his riddles penetrate through the heavy veil of darkness and confusion.

In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.

Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble.

If you’ve followed my non-fiction over the years—fair warning, this serialized story’s dark beginning deviates from my normal narrative writing. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.

Copyright (C) 2026 T.H. Meyer, Author. All rights reserved.

EPISODE 1 »»»>

EPISODE 2 »»»>

EPISODE 3 »»»>

EPISODE 4 »»»>

EPISODE 5 »»»>

EPISODE 6 »»»>

EPISODE 7 »»»>

EPISODE 8 »»»>

Thanks for reading! If you want the true behind-the-scenes stories from What The Shadows Know, I’ll be releasing a Director’s Cut, periodically—Only to subscribers. It’ll include narrative stories about my supernatural encounters, my Christian faith behind the words, and inspiration for characters, scenes, or events in the episodes.

Subscribe for Free Episodes & subscriber-only releases of the Director’s Cut.

If you need a lighter read and want to support my work, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying A Life of Creative Purpose—Embrace Uniqueness, Explore Boldness, Encourage Faith.

Stop Wondering Why You’re Here. Start Living the Life You Were Designed For.

Are you feeling stuck in a cycle of “busy” but lacking a sense of true fulfillment? Do you feel a tug at your heart to create, to lead, or to serve, but aren’t sure how to bridge the gap between where you are and where God is calling you?

The Evergreen Core Message

In A Life of Creative Purpose, T.H. Meyer reveals that your unique talents aren’t accidental—they are your compass. Through a powerful blend of personal journey and practical strategy for your personal growth, Meyer helps you pinpoint the invisible barriers standing between you and your God-given calling. This foundational guide serves as a timeless go-to whether you are just starting your faith journey, looking to reignite your passion for God’s call, or struggling to understand what God has for you. These truths transcend the trends of the day.

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Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed—helpless to hallelujah. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Colleen Coble.