The loud boom of thunder tearing through the air above the small ramshackle dwelling shook the walls. A child cried out in terror and ran to her mother's side. Jagged lightning heralding the approach of more thunder lit up the night sky.
"For God's sake, keep Clara quiet," snapped Darcy Wright at his wife as he reached for the double-barreled shotgun he kept over the front door.
"Hush, child, it's nothing more than thunder," said Maude Wright, running her hand over her six-year-old daughter's long golden yellow hair.
Darcy grabbed his shotgun and loaded two shells. He threw an old poncho over the top of his dirty, red long underwear, picked up a lantern from the dinner table, and moved to the door.
"Now, Darcy, are you sure you heard someone moving about outside?" asked Maude. Fear filled her voice.
"There's someone out there, all right. I heard the pigs squealing in their pen and they never do that unless there's they're spooked. We lost a fat piglet to a coyote last week, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna lose another one tonight."
Maude reached out a hand. "Be careful, Darcy, something don't feel right about this."
Darcy shook his head at his wife's warning. He'd fought in the war and wasn't afraid of any man alive. Darcy opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch of his home. In the dark, with the rain coming down, he could barely see ten feet in front of him. He lifted up his lantern and peered out into the night. "Hey, you out there. I know you're there. Leave now or I'll have to shoot you."
The only response he got was the sound of his pigs squealing in terror.
Darcy pulled back on the dual hammers on his shotgun and stepped off the porch. "I told you to leave my pigs alone." The cold rain struck his hands and face. He hadn't gone more than a couple of yards when his pigs ran straight past him and carried on into this house. Darcy walked toward the pen. He found the gate wide open. Darcy reached over to close the gate when he saw there were prints in the mud. He lowered his lantern to check out the tracks, but couldn't tell who or what had made them. All he knew was whatever had left the prints was large and heavy. Darcy swore aloud and took a couple of steps away from the pen. A bright flash of lightning lit up the farmstead. Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy thought he saw something big run toward the woods. His blood turned cold. He spun around, brought up his shotgun, and pulled back on both triggers. With a loud boom, a flash of flame shot from the end of his weapon.
Maude Wright, standing in the doorway, nearly leaped out of her skin when she saw her husband turn and fire his shotgun into the night.
Clara hid behind her mother and began to cry.
For a moment, Maude held her breath. She saw her husband lower his shotgun. Darcy brought up his lantern so he could see if he could spot what he had fired at. Fear gripped her heart. She was going to tell him to come back inside when his body seemed to jerk to one side. He let go of his lantern. A second later, she watched in horror as he was lifted up off the ground and pulled back into the dark. The light from his lantern, laying in the mud, sputtered for a few seconds before going out. The world outside of her house went black. She tried to scream, to cry out in horror but found her voice had vanished. With her heart pounding away, Maude never saw who or what had taken her husband away from her. She staggered back, slammed the door closed, grabbed hold of her child, and found her voice. She began to scream as loud as she could until she could scream no more.