Do you have a yearning for the stars? Do you find yourself being drawn to the moon and feeling a deep connection to it? Words don’t describe it, right? The sensation is visceral. It’s an inexplicable desire. Well, you’re a special kind of special person. You’re what’s known as a nyctophile — someone who absolutely thrives on the night.
This attraction is called nyctophilia. Don’t worry, it’s not a disease. Humans have many inexplicable foibles built into our DNA. Some say it’s the psyche’s wish to return us to our origins — we ache to connect with our ancient ancestors who once lived by the laws of Earth, wind and fire. There is a special type of serial killer out there too.
Did I just say, a serial killer?
Yes. I did it because I have to warn you about your crazy nighttime fixation. It’s going to get you killed.
If you’re a nyctophile, then there’s a serial killer out there looking for you, right now. I can’t say it any other way. There’s a strong possibility you’re a target and you’ll soon become a victim. Five have already been taken. Five more will go before this season is over.
What makes you think you can walk into the night without a care in the world anyway? Forget about all that ancestral Earth, wind and fire crap, what you’re doing is illogical. You can’t see into the dark. Your eyes aren’t made for it. Fear should prevail. It’s normal to fear what you can’t see. It’s not safe to go out at night. The danger is real. Why go against logic?
There’s a simple answer:
Trust.
You trust the night.
Fool.
All the victims have been nyctophiles. They trust too much. They wander out of the illuminated areas of the city because they’ve never had a problem with the night. They trust something that’s never shown its teeth.
Idiots.
They also place their trust in people like me. I’m not a trustworthy person, nor a nyctophile, but I certainly act like I’m both. My genuineness is highly appealing to those I meet.
To be honest, if history has proved anything, my daytime character is dependable to a fault. Sometimes it’s tiresome to be this good all the time. Occasionally, I need a break from myself and go out into the night, not because I adore the darkness, but because I’m drawn to those it attracts. I have a primal need of my own. Mine feeds off the fear I give those who put trust ahead of logic.
There are plenty of foolish nyctophiles from which to choose. One won’t make it through the night tonight. Fortunately, not every nyctophile will be frightened because of what happens to one dumb nyctophile. Some will remain fixated on the nighttime no matter what’s reported in the news tomorrow morning.
I’m glad for their unwavering nyctophilia. I need it — I can’t have nyctophiles develop a fearful streak and stay away from the darkness. I need their blood to quench the fire that rages inside me.
Creep you later!
Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer who specialises in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.
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