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. 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.
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.
Going in for Episode 2
Scary 👻 Floating in the bed? Soulless leaden Monster. 🍿