Return to Red Creek Nathan Hystad (e books free to read .txt) 📖

was probably just a trick of the light. Mud on her phone’s flashlight.

Lightning flashed now, the warmer spring air making way for thunderstorms. As a little girl, Brittany had loved watching the storms from her bedroom window at night. Right now, she felt differently. Images of witches clasping hands in the dark woods while chanting her name flooded her mind, and she started to turn toward the street.

But the fear of being grounded was more real, more tangible to her than anything supernatural, and she decided to go back. She saw the flashlight still shining, and easily found the spot where she’d fallen. Another flash of light, and three seconds later, it was followed by a loud boom, sending shivers up Brittany’s spine.

She ran now, cell phone firmly in her grip, and she didn’t stop as her uneven feet hit the sidewalk. She glanced around as lightning flashed again, and saw a shape, tall and black, standing rigid a hundred yards behind her. Her heart raced and she got her legs moving again, heading for her house. It was close, only a block down the road, and Brittany didn’t look back again as she flew past a gate at the end of the driveway, entering her yard.

She’d made it. Sanctuary. She latched the fence door and glanced at her muddy legs and the mess she’d tracked in. The rain was pouring now, and she knew it would wash away any signs she’d been out at all. Another flash of light was followed by a boom seconds later, and Brittany saw the entire night sky over the farmer’s field illuminate.

She pulled her jeans off, deciding that the garbage was her best course of action. She couldn’t go inside like this. Once her pants and remaining shoe were tucked under a week’s worth of household trash, Brittany stepped toward the door.

“Please be in bed,” she whispered, knowing she might be pressing her luck. At least she’d made it home; that was the important thing. She could deal with her parents, or Abigail, but some deep-seated terror lingered at the thought of that black misty figure watching her out there.

Brittany reached for the door, and with a deep breath, she grabbed the handle, beginning to turn the knob when the gate creaked to her right. It swung in the wind now, banging as the gusts pushed it open and the hinges closed it. The noise was going to wake up the household, that much was clear, and she hesitantly moved toward it.

She craned her neck around the house, peeking past the driveway as another thunderclap echoed over the field. There was no one there. No witches or black mists, just her mom’s rusty pickup truck. Brittany let out a sigh, latched the gate, and ran for the back door.

The back step met her with a rush as she tripped on something unseen. She screamed, grabbing at the stairs with her hands, unable to find purchase on anything as she was pulled away from the house. Their fence had a gate that allowed them quick access to the farmer’s field, and as she was dragged through the muddy acreage, she saw her house shrinking in the distance.

Brittany clawed her hands into the dirt, but whatever had taken her was strong, her efforts useless. Her ankle burned where it tugged, and she screamed until her throat was raw, knowing the entire time that no one would hear her cries for help over the incessant storm that raged in the skies above Red Creek.

 

 

One

Taylor Alenn closed her books as the lights in the library turned off. She glanced around, finding she was the last person left at the desks in the middle of the study hall. The glow from her MacBook shone against her face, and she slipped her noise-canceling headphones off and closed the laptop. Another Friday night spent alone, working on a school project.

She heard something behind the shelving units to the left, and she wished she’d been paying attention to the time. Taylor hated walking around alone at night, and now it was ten o’clock.

The noises caught her attention again, and she heard the muffled cries of a girl’s voice. She left her stuff, clenched her fists, and grabbed a stapler from a nearby desk, holding it up like a bludgeon.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” She walked toward the aisle of books, each shelf standing over eight feet tall. A man and a woman were pressed against each other, their lips meeting with a fervent passion. The man stopped and turned toward her.

“What the hell are you? Security?” he asked, panting slightly.

Taylor lowered the hand holding the stapler and set it back, feeling foolish for intruding.

“No. I’m sorry.” Taylor turned back to the desk, shoved her computer into her backpack, and jogged out of the library, leaving the lovebirds alone.

She was nearing the end of her first year at Bellton and absolutely loved it. Spring was upon them, and even at this late hour, birds were chirping, ringing in the new season with a renewed sense of hope. It was the same way Taylor was feeling.

She ran down the library steps, landing on the cobblestone sidewalks that would lead her across the courtyard to her dorm. She took a deep breath, smelling the new growth in the gardens that lined the courtyard. Her dad had pulled countless strings to get her into this Ivy League-level college, and Taylor reminded herself to text him when she got home and thank him again.

There were some perks to having a famous dad. Actually, there were a lot.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she slid it out, seeing Brent’s smiling face appear next to a text.

Brent - Where you at?

Taylor – Heading home. Y? Whats up?

Brent – I miss u. party at clays wanna come?

Taylor – don’t think so. Tired today

Brent – come on. Its Friday. Just for a bit

Taylor thought about it as she walked toward her dorm. It was only