New Valence is a city which goes by many names. It’s the Pearl of the Great Lakes, Pearl of the Midwest, you get the idea. It’s also called the Neon City, on account of the abundance of fluorescent lights, signs, billboards and windows plastering every contemporary and neoclassical building alike. At night from afar, the whole skyline adopts a purple & pink glow.
But underneath this glimmering veil, lie rotting corners steeped in Shadows. As you’ll quickly discover, it’s these places where the light never touches, that need the light the most.
—
As the clock struck midnight, the streets were anything but quiet. Like moths to a flame, people huddled around the bold neon exteriors of the city’s most hedonistic nightclubs, eager to enjoy the Saturday night to the fullest. Some overeager folks were already stumbling their way home, their laughter & blaring music drowning out the rumbling lanes of cars cruising past.
Tearing through the nightlife, a sleek scarlet sports car barreled past, recklessly maneuvering through rows of other vehicles before kicking flames out the exhaust and speeding off onto open road. The four guys inside hollered with delight, their seats hardly containing them.
“Wooooo!” exclaimed the driver as he watched the speed dial climb higher and higher, instead of the bridge freeway in front of him. “This baby can dance!”
The man in the passenger seat took a hard swig from the liquor bottle bouncing in his hand. “No wonder the dealer didn’t wanna part with ‘er.” he laughed. “Antonio was cold with it though.”
“Told ya I could quickdraw like a cowboy.” grinned another guy in the back. He turned back to survey the road behind them. “What happened to the pigs?”
“They don’t got a ride like ours.” said the driver confidently. “We got a clean break.”
“Eyes on the fucking road, man.” the fourth guy piped up. “This ride ain’t good enough to die for.”
“Chill, bro.” the driver snapped. “We’ll lose ‘em in the Mile.”
As they approached the other end of the bridge, it was clear the glitz and glamor that New Valence was known for was now behind them. In front of them were dark streets lined in heaps of garbage, boarded-up windows, and rotting facades. Not a single soul dared to brave the sidewalks at this time of night. This was the Deadwood Mile, the reason this city consistently ranks highest in the nation’s crime ratings.
“Home stretch, boys.” the driver grinned confidently.
Out of nowhere, blinding flashes & wailing siren calls came from a side street, as a police car screeched to a halt directly in the thugs’ path. “Shit!” the driver shouted as he yanked the wheel to the left, swerving the car to narrowly avoid it.
With everyone inside lurching around–none of them were wearing seatbelts, of course–the guy in the passenger seat’s alcohol went spraying. A good bit of it went directly into the driver’s eyes, who cursed in pain. The car reacted just the same, chaotically zigzagging down the empty street.
Still at a dangerous speed, the car barreled into the corner of a brick building, throwing the four thugs to the front. With the hood crumpled and smoking, one by one they stumbled out covered in glass. The building they had crashed into was a bakery before it was forced to close, now with only decaying wooden boards covering its doors. In a concussed & equally drunken stupor, the four made their way inside & pulled out their handguns.
“W-what do we do!?” one of the thugs stammered, as they each pointed their pistols at the front door; since it was the only part of the dark space which moonlight could reach. Out front, two police cars pulled up, the officers inside spilling out into a line ready to fire. Two detectives stayed next to their car–a young, proper-looking woman & a tall unkempt man. Megaphone in hand, the woman gave the thugs an ultimatum. “Come outside quietly, and your near future will be a lot easier.”
There was a nervous silence inside the building. All four knew they were screwed, but none of them wanted to surrender first. His gun still aimed outside, one of the thugs felt a chill shoot down his spine. Another one reflexively shivered. In unintentional unison, they all turned to each other, about to ask if the others had felt that too.
Suddenly, the thug on the far left got yanked back into the darkness with a muffled scream. There was a gory tearing sound, followed by rapid drips. The remaining three immediately swung their guns to point at the back of the building. “The fuck!?” one screamed.
Staring back at them, unblinking and unwavering, were a pair of blood-red eyes, glowing like malevolent torches. Their pupils constricted, as if to zero in on the stupefied thugs.
After only a moment to consider if what he was seeing was real or not, the bravest criminal squeezed the trigger as hard as he could, illuminating the room in a flurry of muzzle flashes. The others followed suit with defiant cries, unleashing a deafening symphony of gunfire. The eyes quickly darted back & forth through the dark before rushing the three thugs undeterred.
Screaming for his life, one of the criminals could only watch as the eyes got an arm’s length away from him, his bullets not even scraping them, before his neck snapped, killing him instantly. Faster than a blink, the eyes had already closed the distance to the second one. This thug was lifted off the ground, before being sent flying into a wall with enough force to splatter his head on impact.
The last man, in what may have been the best decision he’d ever made, stopped shooting & dashed to the front door with every ounce of speed he could muster. He could feel the air get colder again; the eyes right behind him. Such a short distance to the safety of the outside, but he wasn’t going to make it. The primal presence felt like it was getting closer and closer. His heart pounding & his blood trembling in his veins, the criminal braced himself for death.
---
“We’re gonna need ya to walk us through the whole thing.” Detective Graham, the unkempt one, commanded in his gruff voice, as he stirred his coffee in annoyance. His scraggly beard was almost as dark as the circles under his eyes.
“But take your time.” his partner Detective Perry, the proper one, added calmly. Her suit coat was neatly pressed, and despite the time of night she still kept her manners about her.
Across the interrogation room from the two detectives sat a young man in a beanie and denim jacket, both stained with alcohol and blood. His cuffed hands were shaking as he rubbed them together on the table. The pale artificial glow of the overhead light glistened off his sweat-soaked face. It had been a while since his arrest outside the old bakery, but the overpowering feeling of impending death hadn’t let up.
“A-And you people have witness protection n’ shit for stuff like this?” he stammered, fear choking his voice.
“Depends on how much time you waste. And how many questions you make us ask.” Graham said as he sipped his coffee, burning his tongue in the process.
“Okay, okay, I’ll talk!” the thug leaned forward. “Just don’t let it kill me, man.” he pleaded.
“You’re safe here.” Perry assured. “Now, about an hour ago you and three other men were at the dealership on Archer Street–”
“Right.” The thug took a deep breath before telling his story. “A few guys n’ me were up there, doin’ a job after it closed–”
“Stealing a car.” Graham corrected. “Your buddy killed an employee in the process.”
“Y-yeah. Anyways, we saw you guys & booked, & then Carter–” the thug swallowed hard, reminding himself that his friends had all been murdered. “He crashed the car, we ran inside, and then–then–”
“It’s important you tell us everything.” Perry asked.
“OK, listen man, I ain’t religious or nothin’.” the thug stared at the ground intensely as he struggled to get the words out. “But there was someone–something–else there. N’ I dunno what the fuck it was.”
Graham raised an eyebrow. “We heard lots of shooting. You sure your little group didn’t start blasting each other?”
The thug viciously shook his head. He held a hand as close to his chest as his cuffs would allow. “Swear to God, man, there was somethin’ already in the building. You saw what it did to–to the other guys.” The images flashing through his mind made him sick.
Graham and Perry both briefly recalled entering the bakery and what they saw inside. Graham put his coffee on the table; he lost his appetite.
Perry turned to Graham and said quietly, “There weren’t any bullet wounds. Looks like blunt force trauma.” She leaned in closer and whispered, “But who could have done that?”
Graham scoffed and turned back towards the thug. “What’s your theory?”
“Well, before everyone else was killed, we all felt this chill, like something bad was aboutta happen.” The thug started crying. “We all shot at the fuckin’ thing, but even with all the flashin’ none of us could see it! There was nothing there! Nothin’ but those…red eyes…” He seized up in fear.
Perry caught herself with her mouth wide open. Graham perked up; this meant his job here was done.
“Well you’re in luck.” he said cheerfully. “Perry here was a ghost hunter before joining the force. This sounds like something right up her alley.” With no hesitation, Graham had gotten up & grabbed his coffee.
“Was.” Perry quickly corrected. “Was a ghost hunt–” she sighed; Graham had already left the room.
The thug wasn’t paying attention, absorbed in his memories of what had happened as tears streamed bitterly down his face.
Perry made sure Graham was gone & out of earshot before leaning in. “Listen, I can’t confirm or deny anything about what happened, yet. You should just be thankful that prison is all you’re getting. Your friends weren’t so lucky.”
“I don’t give a fuck about them!” the thug shouted. “Just protect me! Keep me safe from those…those red fucking eyes! They’re not human, I’m telling you!”
Perry leaned back as the thug descended into jumbled muttering. There had to be a logical explanation somewhere, right?
---
The floor was packed, the music was booming, and the lights were flashing wildly in all sorts of colors. The atmosphere was steeped in dancing and drinks. There were all sorts of people at this party: a guy who was clearly a high-schooler, a priest, an old military man, a delinquent, a queen, and a shirtless guy with long white hair. Not your average party.
None of that mattered to Nathan though. He waded through the sea of movement and screaming, making his way towards her. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen, sitting alone at the other side of the club.
After spending the last few minutes working up the courage, Nathan was finally about to talk to her. He had done this plenty of times before, but there was something special about this girl, he could feel it.
“Hey.” he shouted once he got to where she was sitting, loud enough to be heard over the party behind him. “Can I buy you a drink?” he smiled; both out of confidence and relief that the confidence hadn’t abandoned him last-minute.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The girl locked eyes with him and smiled back. She opened her mouth to reply, and Nathan’s whole being stood locked in suspense.
She answered with a husky country accent to the tune of an abrupt, obnoxious banjo.
Nathan awoke in horror, sitting straight up in his bed. The abrasive bluegrass persisted, and the banjo showed no signs of slowing down. He looked over towards his bedside shelf to the source, his phone. Groaning, he tapped the alarm off and rolled onto his side, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
His original idea was to change his alarm sound to the worst possible noise he could think of, so that he would be forced to actually wake up & turn it off. It didn’t work all that often, but as a consequence left him filled with hatred first thing in the morning–or, knowing Nathan, afternoon.
“And there’s my daily quota of Buster Scrubbs.” Nathan sighed. “Didn’t even get her number.”
“Up already, are we?” came a monotone voice from the other side of the room. Nathan glanced at his phone again, to see the time (2:00PM) and how many alarms he had slept through (4). He lifted himself on his elbows and looked across the room.
There wasn’t anything spectacular about this college dorm. There were two loft beds on either side, with desks underneath them; a small TV against the back wall with windows behind it, and the door to a small bathroom. It was this bland partly because Nathan was too lazy to put any decor anywhere, and partly because his roommate didn’t see the need to either.
Said roommate was dutifully unloading textbooks from his backpack into his desk drawers. “I don’t suppose you’ve gone to class today?” he said dryly, without turning around.
Nathan sighed. “You know me so well, Theo.” he answered sarcastically. Every time he saw his roommate, he was doing something productive in the most productive way possible. Nathan could never understand it. “Besides, the year’s just started, dude. I’m allowed to take it easy.”
“Theodore.” his roommate corrected, like he often did; Nathan never called him by his actual name. “I reserve the right to mock you when your grades come in.”
“You care too much.” Nathan yawned.
He picked up his phone as it started to vibrate, holding it to his ear. “What’s up bro.” he answered.
“Oh shit, that was today? My bad, man.” he said groggily to his friend on the other end. “Dude, I dunno. Just gimme like five minutes. Alex is down too, right? Dope. Seeya soon.”
Nathan hung up, and grabbed one of the many energy shots he had piled onto his bedside shelf. After downing it, he grabbed the bedframe and hopped over, landing on the ground with a thud.
“Already out of bed?” Theo said, slightly surprised.
“Yeah, to go have fun.” Nathan responded. “Although I know you aren’t familiar with the term.”
Theo scoffed. “Quite the opposite,” he said before dramatically clicking his pen, “I’m about to have lots of fun right now.” Then he swung his swivel chair around to the open notebook on his desk.
His earbuds already in, Nathan just smirked and shook his head. As if to cleanse the bluegrass out of his ears, suddenly all he could hear was his synthwave playlist.
---
With enough speed to blow his thick black hair off his face, Nathan steadied his skateboard across the pavement. Approaching a downward slope, he angled left towards the railing beside it, just as he had practiced for the last few hours. Kicking his board into the air, he went in for the grind. Almost exactly when the skateboard landed perpendicular on the railing, Nathan lost his balance and tumbled down the slope.
“Bro, this shit’s impossible.” he said exasperated, quickly hopping back to his feet and grabbing his skateboard. “Ravi, come show me up again.”
“Patience, my dear boy.” his friend Ravi teased, doing what Nathan tried but correctly, masterfully sliding his board down the railing and landing at the end. “You just haven’t found the sweet spot yet.”
Their friend Alex sized up the railing from above and nodded to himself. “I’m gonna try.” he announced quietly before pushing off. His attempt was a bit shaky, but he stuck the landing and grinned. “Wow, on the first go. That’s awesome.”
Nathan stood there dumbfounded. “How’d–you’ve only been skating for a week!”
Ravi glanced at him and burst out laughing. “I knew Alex was Greek, but not that he’s fuckin’ Zeus himself.” he said, dabbing Alex up. “I kinda feel bad for Nate now though.”
Nathan shook his head and smiled. “Nah, it just means I’ve got two wise old teachers now.”
He held his skateboard to his chest and swore an oath: “By graduation, I’ll have eclipsed you both.”
“Oho.” Ravi smirked. “I’m writing this down, ya’know.”
“I accept your challenge.” Alex smiled.
Feeling a buzz in his pocket, Nathan took his phone out. He saw the notification and sighed. “Guys, hold up.” he said sarcastically. “The Sentry’s got somethin’ to say again.”
“Don’t tell me you still haven’t unsubscribed.” Ravi said as he and Alex came to look over Nathan’s shoulder.
A news article had just been posted, with a headline reading “Ghost Caught on Camera in New Valence (REAL FOOTAGE).”
None of them wanted to admit it, but they were all curious; even though the e-magazine was notorious for the hoaxes & clickbait it regularly published. Nathan suspensefully tapped play on the clip attached to the article.
It was a POV video filmed from atop the head of some plucky ghost-hunter, making his way through a dark & abandoned building. The person heard a sudden noise, and scrambled to turn his flashlight on. Out shone a gloomy purple light which flooded the hallway in front of him. It also revealed a shadowy entity–an almost humanoid transparent skull, with a misty, snake-like spine for a body and ribs like a centipede’s legs. It stared at him menacingly. With a wispy, blurry form, the being quickly ducked away out of the flashlight’s rays, back into invisibility; causing the person to frantically shake the camera as they whirled around to flee. The clip ended shortly after.
Ravi realized his shock was plastered all over his face, but before the others noticed, he quickly covered it up with a laugh. “‘Real footage’, my ass.”
Alex chuckled. “Yeah, that’s pretty dumb.”
Nathan smiled. “I’ve seen weirder.”
Ravi was already back at the top of the skate ramp. “C’mon guys, back to shit that actually matters.”
Alex and Nathan both grinned and hopped back on their skateboards.
---
On the other side of New Valence later that night, the Messina Rose was enjoying a full house. While nominally a hotel, most of the floors were opulently kitted out with all the things one would find in a casino and more–because in all but name, the Rose was a casino. Practically everything that went on within its gold-sheen walls, from the gambling & drugs to the sex workers, was highly illegal; yet it marketed itself boldly, its front doors brightened by a neon outline of Caesar with a rose in his mouth. However, enough cops indulged in the casino’s services to keep those doors open.
Dice clattered on the craps table, to the sound of cheers on one side and groans on the other. “Oho!” a deep, sultry voice boomed in an Italian accent. “It seems I’ve won again, Signor Ivanovich.”
Amidst the grumblings of his opponent, the man felt a tap on his shoulder. A waiter quickly whispered into his ear before walking away.
His smile faltered for a moment, showing his annoyance, but the man was experienced at maintaining his image. Straightening his crisp, dark purple three-piece suit, and stepping away from the provocatively-dressed women clinging to each arm, he bid his latest craps victim farewell. “I appreciate our duel, Signor Ivanovich. Until we meet again.”
With a bow, he elegantly excused himself from the table and followed the waiter through a door in a shadowy corner of the casino, and down a foreboding staircase. “This had better be worth tearing me away from my patrons.” the man said sternly.
Down in the squalid basement, illuminated by a lone flickering ceiling light, stood an extravagant mustached man clad in a large pink-tinted fur coat and an outfit one would find in a stage play. He was leaning against the back wall, but once he saw the well-dressed man on the stairs, he straightened his back.
“My apologies, sir.” the man said quietly. “But there have been more bitter murders.”
“A lot of murders happen in this city.” the casino owner responded coyly, remaining in the shadows with his face concealed. “Are you sure our business is being targeted specifically, Diego?”
The man in the coat nodded & held his chin high. “To think someone could be so rude and sour to you.” After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Could the culprit be one of ours?”
The casino owner’s frown was tangible through the shadows. “Impossible. All the Legionaries are loyal to me. However, we can’t let this grow into an issue.” His tone softened. “You’re a capable young man, Diego. I trust you will handle it.”
Diego smiled. “Consider it done, sir. I won’t allow anyone to defy you and live.”
---
The next day, Chad Broderick went about his daily business, strolling down the college hallway with a girl under his arm. His dumb-looking expression conveyed much more enjoyment than that of the girl. He was relishing the fact that everyone could see his muscular body through the flimsy tank-top he was wearing. Most people along his route acknowledged him with a greeting, some genuinely & some not. All of them knew though, that the easiest way into the wildest frat parties was simply giving Chad attention. In short, according to Chad, Chad is the king of Chad’s world.
From behind a corner, three agents of misbehavior scoped out their target. Alex & Nathan looked at Chad, then at Ravi beside them.
“That’s the asshole who’s cyberbullying your friend?” Alex asked.
Ravi nodded. “Yeah, made her cry again yesterday. You guys got the posters?” he whispered.
“Yeah. A douchebag like this dude deserves this. Righteously.” Nathan said in indignation. He always got oddly passionate about seeing certain people get their just desserts.
“I don’t think pranking someone is that deep.” Alex responded.
“.....Righteously.”
With indomitable diligence and suppressed grins, the three went around campus, taping posters to anywhere they could be seen by the masses. On these posters were the most incendiary political opinions they could think of. At the bottom was a Buzzer handle with the title “Debate Me”; this was, of course, Chad’s Buzzer account.
Nathan backed away from the last poster he put up, dusting his hands off and sighing proudly. He turned towards the sound of commotion down the hallway, where a small crowd of angry college activists were giving Chad a piece of their mind.
“Dude, what the fuck is even happening!?” Chad yelled in confusion.
Nathan smiled and walked away. “Ya reap what you sow.” he whispered.
“Mr. Sherman.” came a stern voice from behind him, sending a chill up his spine and stopping him in his tracks.
Nathan slowly turned around, putting on a smile. “Oh, hello, Professor McGuiness.”
Behind him was a tall, intimidating woman with glasses and a raised eyebrow. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” she said wryly.
Nathan’s eyes darted to the side. “Uh…”
“You’re a senior now, Mr. Sherman. There’s a lot of responsibility that comes with that.”
“Yeah–yes ma’am, I’m working on it. But you know–”
If Nathan had ever gone to Professor McGuiness’ classes, he would have known that nothing he said would stop her speeches once she started. “Your future is fast approaching, Mr. Sherman. Whether you like it or not. I hope you’re ready for it–for your sake.” With that, she walked away.
Nathan sulked. “You don’t have to remind me.” he grumbled.
---
“Captain, I’m telling you, this case is special.” Detective Perry pleaded. She stood in the police captain’s office, whose attention was instead on the papers she was signing at her desk. Perry started tapping her foot. “Please let me look into it.”
“Why does this particular case rile you up so much?” the captain asked, still not looking at Perry. “If you just want to solve a gruesome murder we’ve got plenty–”
“Because.” Perry held a hand to her heart & closed her eyes in remembrance. “I have a feeling that solving this case will finally let me fulfill a promise I made. And I think promises are important.”
The captain sighed and folded her glasses to look at Perry. “Listen, Detective Perry. Lauren.” She started rubbing her temples. “I’ll tell you how things work here, since you’re new. Our precinct is too underfunded and undermanned to go off on hunches. We take big cases that come to our attention and run with them. Sorry.”
“This is a big case.” Perry was careful not to raise her tone with the lady who held her career in her hands. “If a murder like this happens again–or if word gets out–the public’s going to go crazy. The circumstances are already suspicious enough, imagine the press nightmare it’ll take to contain all the rumors which could spawn from them–”
“Fine.” the captain sighed harder and leaned back on her chair. “Fine. The case is all yours.”
“Really?” Perry grinned in excitement, clenching her fists to her chest. “Thank you!”
“But get Detective Graham to help you.” the captain said. She looked to the glass wall separating her office from the rest of the department, and to Graham, who was looking and listening discreetly by the coffee machine, dread clear on his face. She motioned for him to come in.
“Captain, with all due respect, I refuse.” Graham declared as he swung the door open, almost spilling his coffee. “I’ve got standards, you know.”
“Consider it a trust-building exercise.” the captain leaned in & added in a low tone, “And besides Detective Graham, if I were you, I would take any chance I could to redeem myself. I don’t think I have to get any more specific than that.”
Graham looked away. “You’re right, Captain. I’ll get it done.”
“C’mon, we got this.” Perry smiled, offering Graham a fist bump which he awkwardly reciprocated
“I reserve the right to complain about it, though.” Graham mumbled.
The two detectives turned to leave.
“I want to see this ghost of yours in my office.” the captain called after them. “And soon.”
Unbeknownst to the two detectives, in order to fulfill the captain’s orders, they will have to plunge into the part of the city where the neon doesn’t glow.
Where the Shadows dwell.
Author’s Note
This is finally happening: the start of a story that’s been cooking in my mind since I was 12. I hope you stick around for the ride :)
Food for Thought
While New Valence is completely made up, it’s located in real-life Michigan, across the lake of the same name from Chicago. One of these days I gotta make a map.