I know that this is a lot to ask.
Hopefully, I will still be able to explain this in person when I come to you. If I can’t, then that means the infection has already gone too far. If I don’t knock on the door, like a friendly neighbor, then please understand that I’m here to do you harm. You’ll know I’m close if you hear tapping. Scatter seeds to slow me down.
My eyes are hypnotic. Even glancing at them can cause paralysis. That’s how the infection traps its next victim. Light is the antidote. A flashlight can diminish the mesmerizing effect. I killed thirteen infected, most with a wooden stake—not through the heart, but through the eyes.
Sharpen something wooden to a point. I used a shovel handle and a broomstick. It’s not hard to pierce the eyes. Trust me, you’ll know it’s necessary when you see what I have become. We move in the darkness or shadows, hunt at night, and use our claws to tap so we can listen to the echoes. We hide during the day. Any scratch or bite can transmit the infection. Don’t let me get too close.
I hope you can read this. It has been a battle to write this letter.
Sincerely,
Ike Hamill
September 2019
Topsham, Maine
About Until the Sun Goes Down
This book was a lot of fun for me to write. I hope you had as much fun as I did. Books with monsters—real or imaginary—have always been my favorite. I take that back. I’m actually not too fond of the imaginary sort of monsters. A scary book needs to have a payoff. There has to be something unexplainable or else I’m a little disappointed.
With Until the Sun Goes Down, our narrator is driven more by his own fear than anything else. Did those creatures really mean him harm? Do we have any irrefutable evidence? In a lot of horror stories, the characters are doomed because they refuse to act while they try to explain everything away. In this story, I wanted the narrator to jump to a quick conclusion and act accordingly. It was just rotten luck that he still got tripped up.
When I was a kid, I used to come to Maine every summer to stay with my grandparents at their house in the middle of nowhere. The house was on a dirt road. At night, the light on the barn made a tiny patch of safety surrounded by endless woods that contained countless horrible monsters. That place terrified me and I loved it.
’Salem’s Lot came out in 1975. I don’t remember what year I found a dog-eared copy, but I know exactly where I was when I read it. I had come up that year without my brother and sister, and I was staying alone in the guest room with the twin beds. It was a scorcher of a day, filled with swimming and chores in equal measure. That night, with the window open, a breeze finally brought relief from the heat. I got up and closed it anyway, because I was reading about ’Salem’s Lot, where the dead can’t seem to stay still.
I even pulled the shade, afraid that I would see glowing eyes hovering outside the second-story window. That book made me afraid to even take in a deep breath. I hope that one of my books gives that kind of thrill to someone. I treasure that memory.
Hope you liked the story. If you haven’t read my other books, you should check them out. I have a bunch. Stay Away and Fiero’s Pizza are in a similar vein. Migrators takes place a few miles from this book and shares some of the same atmosphere. Let me know what you think. You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, or email ([email protected]).
All my best,
Ike
Stay Away
Every small town has secrets. Some secrets can kill.
He’s always been there, the old gentleman in the funeral suit, hanging around the big oak tree. Even before the cemetery was dug, the natives knew about him. He was just as much a part of the landscape as the rocks or the river. If you ever needed anything, especially if it was a matter of life and death, you could find him and make a trade.
He always trades fair. Everybody says so.
Eric is about to trade without even realizing it. He isn’t tricked. It’s only a mistake. “Caveat emptor,” some might say. Uncle Reynold would say, “Watch your butt, lest somebody kicks a new hole in it.”
Fiero’s Pizza
There’s something out there waiting for your family and it needs you to call. Your baby can sense it. In the middle of the night, when the curtains blow, you can sense it too. All it needs is an opening. Once it’s inside you, it will control everything.
What if your family is already doomed?
Brian and Samantha have found the perfect home to start their family. It's an old farmhouse in rural Maine, with plenty of character and plenty of room to grow. And they're just in time! Before they've moved in, Samantha goes into labor with their first son. With the house, they get more than they bargained for. They stumble into the clutches of a demonic parasite, just waiting to latch onto the next family. By the time they realize what is happening, their fate is already sealed. Only their love and commitment to each other will see them through. But what if they're not strong enough?
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Migrators
Do not speak of them. Your words leave a scent. They will come. Somewhere in the middle of Maine, one of the world's darkest secrets has been called to the surface. Alan and Liz just
