Until the Storm Passes

By Stefan Taylor

On a summer night, in a forgotten town, a storm is brewing…

It was supposed to be a quick stop for a bite to eat, on their journey to a new life. But when Sisters Jordan, Lilly and their older brother Owen, arrive in the town of Barnsford, they soon find themselves at the mercy of malevolent forces beyond their understanding. <

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stefan Taylor
• Release date: Oct 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648667704

Stefan Taylor

Stefan is a Melbourne writer exploring tense, atmospheric worlds of familial pain. His debut young adult horror novella Beyond the Boundary Fence, available on Amazon, was called "a chilling read" that "evokes solitary loneliness." Stefan has worked professionally as an actor or writer in film, television, stage and novels for over a decade. He has appeared in TV shows Underbelly, Winners & Losers and Gallipoli, and wrote and co-hosted the Stefan and Craig show on Triple M Brisbane. His one-man shows featuring classic horror stories received rave reviews in the 2013 and 2014 Melbourne Fringe Festival, "The audience was breathless" - The Age "Utterly inspired, miss it at your peril!" - Arts Hub

Book preview

Prologue

Abigail sprinted through the cornfield. The dry husks lashed her face and whipped her arms leaving burning welts and cuts. She gasped for air, feet digging into the soggy earth. Exhaustion dragged at her, but fear drove her forward.

Fear of...him.

A shriek shattered the air. She glanced about at the other children falling over each other in their desperate attempt to escape.

Hayden, a tubby little thing with a helmet of dark hair crowning his round face, had been caught. He hung just a foot from the earth, legs kicking wildly in the air.

A smoggy blackness seeped through the corn and swallowed the boy.

She stumbled to a stop. Took a step toward him, her hands outstretched.

Hayden’s voice was barely more then a squeak as he called to her, Abby! Help me—

His feeble cries were cut short as he disappeared into the creeping shadow. Burning eyes coalesced from the darkness and fixed her with a nefarious stare.

‘Abby?’ a malicious voice called in her mind. ‘Where will you run to, Abby?’ He was inside her head! His words dripped through her mind like crude oil.

She pressed her hands against her ears and screamed. The blackness surged forward at alarming speed. Abigail turned and ran. Her exhaustion gone.

She burst from the cornfield and tumbled down a sharp embankment, crashing into the backs of the other children at the bottom of a dried creek bed.

Over twenty had fled the town. However, in their haste to escape they’d made no decision on where to go or who to turn to. Now they huddled together at the bottom of the embankment, the older children cradling the younger, all with tears flowing freely.

Abby! one of the girls whimpered, clutching her arm. What do we do?

‘Yes, Abby, where do you go to now?’ the voice croaked through her mind.

She wiped the cold sweat from her eyes, and desperately looked about for an escape. They were too far from the edge of town to try and turn back, and the closest road – the highway – was another ten or twelve kilometres through the fields to the east. They could try for the service station to the north, but that would mean having to cut back the way they’d come.

A profound sense of hopelessness gripped her heart. As the blackness pushed through the last rows of corn, Abigail dropped to her knees. The other children followed her lead, keeping huddled together, eyes downcast.

She squeezed her hands together in fearful prayer.

When she peered up, the smog was gone. A handsome young man in a black suit stood grinning down at her.

You’ve given me quite the chase, children, he said with a giggle. His voice, gentle and sweet, was nothing like the drooling malice of the one he used to speak into her mind.

He dusted off the sleeve of his jacket. I’m afraid I shan’t make this next part quick. He ran his tongue over his lips, before bursting out in a cruel bark of laughter.

My lord, Abigail muttered hoarsely, we honour you, and love you. Why have you done this?

He nodded thoughtfully. A fair question, child, but what you saw back in the house… well, it’s always been part of the deal. Can you blame me if the leaders of your town hid little secrets from you?

He calmly stepped down the embankment toward them. Twigs and pebbles cracked under his feet like brittle bones as he descended.

What are you going to do with us?

Well, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to tell the remaining children what you saw, he said with a shrug. Otherwise I’ll have no snacks left! Another round of laughter burst from him. You cannot possibly fathom how hungry I get.

Abigail slunk back. Our… our parents won’t let you. Not like this!

He rocked back on his heels, studying her. Well, maybe I haven’t been completely honest with them either. His eyes glowed a cloudy white – like tainted moons. They believe the sacrifice was painless, but you know different, don’t you, little Abby? And they have always been happy to send me their best and brightest. Humans do so love their material wealth. More than their runts it seems.

What was he saying? That their parents knew what the sacrifice really was? That they knew what went on up in the turret room of the priest’s house?

Rage replaced her fear. No, it couldn’t be true. Their parents could never let them suffer like that.

They won’t let you hurt us! she yelled defiantly. They won’t let you take us all!

The man tapped his chin, feigning a frown. I must admit you make a strong case. We have a good little deal going here, your town and I. Just look at this body they gave me, he said with a childish grin, spreading his arms wide. I’ll just have to invent a tiny white lie. You all discovered the truth and ran away, he said. I tried to convince you to stay but... he shrugged.

My lord. Abigail prostrated herself before him. I beg you! Tears gathered in her eyes as the hopelessness took hold again. We have always loved you! We worshiped you our whole lives. We sacrificed ourselves so those we love may prosper, just as you taught us—

He waved her words away, and Abigail clutched her neck. Her throat tightened, closed… it was being crushed from within! Her eyes bulged as she struggled for air.

He wrapped his hand around hers and hoisted her in the air; gazing at her with baleful eyes then whispered, Give yourself, so those you love may prosper.

His mouth stretched impossibly wide, he blinked rapidly and slowly his skin slid away until his true form was revealed.

Abigail took one last look across the cornfield. In the distance she could just make out the tip of a turret jutting toward the sky. It was the building that marked the centre of town. A town that was the only home she’d ever known. She was hit by the horrible realisation that she would never see home again.

The children around her screamed as the lord they’d spent their whole lives worshipping bit into Abigail’s neck. Some tried to run, some tried to pray. But in the end, their lord feasted on them all.

Chapter 1

Twenty years later.

Lucy Wright stepped from the house she’d called home her entire life. She strolled down the path to the front gate, and gazed up and down the wide main street of Barnsford.

Deserted, as usual. She let out a long sigh, adjusted her hat against the beating sun and headed toward the town centre. She had a slim build, and age had wearied her. However, what Lucy lacked in physical strength she made up for in intellect and demeanour.

She breathed in the heat of the day. This was home.

Lucy had visited other cities in her sixty-five years, but she had never wanted to live anywhere else but here. Like most residents of the town, she was as much a part of Barnsford as it was of her.

As she walked down the centre of the main road, she took in the boarded-up businesses and homes as she passed.

All held precious memories.

The school, where she’d stolen her first kiss with Tommy Peters behind the bike sheds. The diner where she and her friends had hung out after school during their teens. The old council chambers where, every week, a new film would be shown. And of course, there was the library. How many hours had she spent in its hallowed halls? Hundreds, it must have been.

All spent studying the ancient texts.

But that was nothing special. Every child in Barnsford had studied those texts. Only a few, such as Lucy, had studied them deeply enough to really comprehend the power within them.

Fewer still had studied to the level to become the town priest, custodian of the ancient texts. Lucy had never gotten that far. However, she had worked her way up to become the mayor, second only to the priest.

And the priest was second only to him.

She stopped in front of the only building in the street that was not abandoned and falling to bits.

The priest’s house.

It stood proudly at the point where the main road met a junction of minor streets. It was the literal and figurative centre of town.

It was a beautiful, two-storey dwelling with a large turret room perched at its top. It was from that room the priest had performed the rituals and rites that had brought the town rich soil, bountiful crops, and wealth for all. They had been the envy of every other town in the district.

The pale walls glowed like a beacon in the late afternoon sun.

The founders of Barnsford, and for whom the town was named, had discovered the ancient texts that summoned him. However, the exact story of how they had come by those texts was now lost.

It had died with the previous priest, William Barnsford –last of his line.

She shook herself from her musings. William Barnsford had died many years ago and slowly, the people had moved away from the traditions that had built their town and made it strong. Until one day they had voted to stop it all together… after the last remaining children had run away.

Lucy could not say to where the children had run. They had put as much distance between themselves and the town as possible. Sniffing dismissively, she turned on her heel and continued down the street.

She’d had no family of her own; didn’t have the time. The town was her consuming responsibility, and its people were her children. As the town’s leader, she intended to lead Barnsford back to the jewel it had once been.

She glanced back at the radiant white house. It was time for the town of Barnsford to rise again, and she was the woman to ensure it.

But she couldn’t do it alone.

She hastened past the final decaying structures and stepped up onto the rough wooden boards of the Three Crowns Hotel; the pub that had stood on the main street since the town’s inception. Like most of the other buildings on the main street, it had been a grand structure once. But now it was a battered mess of broken windows and rusted iron roofing.

It reminded Lucy of the town itself – battered and broken but still holding together.

She opened the door and stepped inside.

The interior didn’t look much better than its facade. A large, crumbling fireplace stood in the corner. Tables and chairs were scattered around in no particular order.

All of the punters were elderly and dishevelled, gazing blankly into their half-finished pots of beer. Dreaming of better times? Lucy wondered. One punter lay face down on the table snoring loudly. The smell of mould was heavy in the air.

Three figures looked up from their hushed conversation as she approached the bar. She made a show of