Do you have a yearning for the stars? Is howling at the moon your kind of thing?
Of course, it is, and you do. That’s why you visited. There’s that certain something that draws you to the night, and it goes deep to the core of us. Words don’t describe it. The sensation is visceral. Perhaps it’s part of a deep, primal desire we’re yet to understand.
This attraction is called nyctophilia. Don’t worry, it’s not a disease. Humans have many inexplicable foibles like this built into their DNA. It’s who we are. Some say it’s the psyche’s wish to return our souls to the holiest elements of our origins — to a time long before the Internet, religion, even civility itself. We ache to connect with our ancient ancestors who once lived by the only laws we’ve truly known, those of Earth, wind and fire. There is a special type of serial killer too.
I thought we were talking about nature and visceral connections to it.
We were. It’s a twist in this blog’s post.
I brought you here to take you elsewhere. Nyctophilia is a lovely, sweet story, but what makes us think we can walk into the night without a care in the world? It’s illogical. We can’t see into the dark. Our eyes aren’t made for it. Fear should prevail. It’s normal to fear the kinds of things that might lurk inside that wild abyss. It’s not safe. The danger is real. Why go against logic and step into it? There’s a simple answer.
We place trust in it. But trust takes time to manufacture. It doesn’t happen automatically or without a reason. Fools.
That’s why my victims are nyctophiles. They wander out of the illuminated areas of the city because they’ve never had a problem with the night before — placing their trust in an environment that never showed its teeth. They also place their trust in people like me.
They should. I always work hard to gain it. To be honest, if history has proved anything, my character is dependable to a fault. Sometimes it’s tiresome to be this way. Occasionally, I need to take a vacation from myself and go out into the night, too. I do it because I also have a primal need of my own. Mine is driven to take us into the night to reinstall fear in those who trust me without question.
There are plenty of foolish nyctophiles from which to choose. One of them won’t make it through the night tonight. Tomorrow, other nyctophiles will begin question their trust. A few of them will stop being nyctophiles altogether. Fortunately, not every nyctophile will be frightened away. Some will remain fixated on the night, because that’s who they are.
I’m glad for their unwavering fixation. I have a fixation that feeds on theirs — and I need each of them to believe I’m totally trustworthy when they finally get to meet me… somewhere inside the night.
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 specializes in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.