Title: In The Still of the Night
Author: Quania
Rating: R
Genre: Horror/Paranormal/Romance
Category: N/A
Summary: Updated Soon
Special Notes; Hello everyone, I have great hope for this story and I'm sure that you'll like it. Please provide feedback about what you did or did not like about this story. I'll have it in mind for my revisions.


January 1, 1940

on a stormy bleak night a dark haired man in a business suit slowly crept into his son's room to kiss him goodnight. He had just returned home from a long day at work, a pattern that he was hoping to break soon. He hadn't seen much of his son or wife in almost two weeks and his absence was affecting himself as well as his family. He was slightly surprised when he entered his son's room and found that a candle was lit and his son was holding an old book that looked like it was falling apart.

The brown eyed curly haired boy smiled at his father when he saw him enter. He was happy to see the face that many people said mirrored his own minus the large glasses his father wore. The little boy struggled to lift the tome but when he did his smile became brighter. "Can you read this to me again?" he asked his father sweetly.

His father nodded dumbly. He was confused as to how his son obtained it when he had hidden away in his bedroom where he thought no one would find it. The father had hidden the book inside of a faulty floor plank underneath his bed. At that moment he was slightly upset with his son for snooping around his room but then a feeling of pride washed over him. His son was a very intelligent and inquisitive little boy. Grabbing the tome the man joined his son on the bed and began to fiddle through the pages until he came across the small passage that he frequently read to his son.

Ten thousand years ago, when man's greatest weapons were the spear and crossbow, a battle raged between mankind and Atra Cythrauls for dominance over earth. The Cythrauls are unlike any creature that has roamed the earth. Their skin was black as tar and their eyes burned like fire. Cythrauls ate their victims alive, using their razor sharp claws and teeth to tear into their victim's flesh with unbridled passion. Although their form was humanoid, they were bound to the earth by their feet and claws. Only the most powerful of the Cythrauls could walk upright.

The war ensued for a hundred years on every continent between Man and Cythrauls. Humans were being slaughtered at an impeccable rate and the Cythrauls were thought to be the winner until one man of great power defeated the Cythrauls. Although he and the Cythrauls were equal in strength and speed he did not defeat them with his power. The man was able to hypnotize the beasts with the sound of his 

voice and banished the Cythrauls to the bowels of hell for the next ten thousand years.

"Yes!" The little boy exclaimed with glee, happy that the humans won the war. The child's father smiled at his son's excitement but it didn't reach his eyes. He pushed his large round bifocals up to the bridge of his nose before giving his son a steady stare.

"Yes, the humans defeated the Cythrauls but only temporarily. The Cythrauls will return in ten thousand years and a new savior will have to defeat them."

"But can't the man just come back and make them disappear again?" The man took a deep breath before closing the large withering book. He gazed intently at the candle that flickered beside his son's bed, not sure how he should answer the question. "Father?" The small boy called out to him. "The man will return, right?"

"No son, he died a few years later but it is said that his descendants harbor the power to control the Cythrauls. So it has been assumed that that they will be the ones to defeat Cythrauls upon their return." The man explained.

"Then everything will be fine." The young boy said with content. He snuggled into his bed, tired from excitement. His father gently slid off the bed before tucking the old book underneath his arm and kissing his son on the forehead. "Good night Charles." He whispered.

"Good night father." Charles whispered back. His father blew out the candle before quietly stepping out of the room only to find his red haired wife standing behind him with a scowl on her face.

"What is it now Elizabeth?" he asked her after Charles' bedroom door was closed.

"William, I thought I asked you not to tell him those stories. You know they'll give him nightmares." William walked across the hall into the bedroom that he shared with his wife, ignoring her complaints as he went. He didn't feel well enough to argue and he did not want his son to over hear their bickering. "William he's only eight years old. He can't handle those types of tales."

"Sweet heart, I've been telling Charles that story for years now and not once has he had a nightmare because of them." William tried to reason. He placed the tome on his dresser and turned to face his wife. Her cheeks were pinched with red. William suspected it was from her make-up rather than anger because Elizabeth's blue eyes weren't especially dark.

"But William–"

"Elizabeth, this is something that I have to do. That story has been passed down my family for generations and with that tale an unspoken promise has been passed along as well."

"But you don't even know if it's true." Elizabeth sighed before going into the bathroom to run her husband's bath.

William watched his wife with sad eyes. Ever since Charles was born they've been at odds end on how to raise him. William wanted his son to know his family heritage and understand that he will one day play a large role in saving the world but Elizabeth didn't believe and it wasn't her fault. She had asked him for proof many times but he always refused. William didn't want her to get any more involved than she already was. But because he left her in the dark more arguments that always ended with 'You don't even know if it's true,' has come about. William released a heavy sigh before looking in the mirror and saw his eyes briefly glow blood red. "I'm certain of it." He whispered to himself before getting undressed.