Some Thing Calls from the Dark

By Bryna Butler

Kayla Murphy hears an odd call for help in the dead of night coming from the creepy woods beyond her backyard. The voice is all she remembers when she wakes up on her bedroom floor below an open window the next morning.

At school, the teachers don't even notice that several kids have disappeared, and every time Kayla thinks abo

• Language: English
• Publisher: Swancrest Publishing
• Release date: Sep 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9780997617115

Bryna Butler

Butler's young adult mystery novels feature strong female leads and are woven from elements of horror, suspense, comedy, and mystery, all in a modern, small town setting. She is best known for her Midnight Guardian Series (YA Paranormal Mystery) and Mothman Mysteries (YA Sci-Fi Mystery).Butler is inspired by writers like Cassandra Clare, Jennifer Armentrout, Rachel Caine, Joss Whedon, and Patricia Briggs. Her work contains no profanity or explicit scenes, making it appropriate for pre-teen as well as teen readers.

Book preview

Dear Spooky Rumors Readers,

As someone who wants to know more about the things that go bump in the night, I trust you will find the information within most valuable. I am Agatha Binx, perhaps the world’s foremost authority on the creepy creatures, wild werebeasts, and gruesome ghosts of our time. Being a witch of mysterious magics, I am uniquely positioned to gather the inside information that no mortal may obtain without dire consequences. And now, I share these deadly secrets of the dark with you.

As a good and kind soul, I feel it is my duty to pass these rumors, really warnings in their most basic form, so that you may prepare yourself. I pray it is not too late.

The night before last, while watching a mystery movie marathon with Mothman, I learned a rumor that... Some Thing Calls from the Dark!

May your flashlight never fail,

Agatha

A cartoon character on stage Description automatically generated with medium confidence

Artwork by Doug LaRocca

Chapter 1

Kayla. Kaaaayylaaaa. I need help. Come to me.

I wake up with a start and sit up in bed. Did I really hear someone or was that just part of a dream?

The house is eerily silent. I reach for my new phone and flick on the screen. It says 3:57 a.m.

Good. I don’t feel at all ready to get up. My head feels stuffy. Heavy. My thoughts come slow like they are underwater, rising to the surface. I let my heavy head fall back onto my pillow and close my eyes.

Kayla. Where are you? Help me.

My eyes pop open. Okay. It wasn’t a dream.

I need you, Kayla. Help me.

The voice sounds like a little kid. I think it might be a kid I know. Maybe. It feels like I should know who it is, but it’s hard to think. Hard to match a name or even a face to the voice. I stumble out of bed and hurry to the window to look out.

Strange, I don’t remember leaving the window open.

It is really dark outside, the kind of night where storm clouds hide the moon and stars. It’s also quiet. Quiet in the house, and quiet outside. The silence alone is kind of creepy even without the sound of someone calling for help still echoing in my mind. A breeze sweeps past me and lifts the papers on my desk. It should feel cold, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t feel like anything at all.

With my phone still in my hand, I flick the screen back on. The bright light makes me squint though it’s already on the dimmest setting. Through my eyelashes I can see just enough to text my best friend, Gina.

Gina doesn’t answer. It’s almost four in the morning. What did I expect?

My eyes search the dark backyard. I look for any sign of danger and hope that I don’t find it.

Kayla, help.

There it is again! The kid’s voice is louder now that I’m standing at the open window. Clear even though my bedroom is on the second floor.

Come to me, Kaaaayla. Help. I need help at this very moment. You must come now.

What a strange thing to yell, I think, but the kid is not yelling. Not really. Come to think of it, the voice doesn’t sound afraid at all. Shouldn’t a scream for help in the wee hours of the morning sound scared? At least more urgent than the way Mom calls me downstairs for dinner.

Kayla. Kaaayla.

At the edge of the yard, I see something between the trees. It is only for a split second. There. A pair of eyes watch from the bushes. They are a flash of bright yellow under Dad’s security light, which hangs on a tall pole. Just a flash, and the eyes are gone.

My left foot is hanging out the window before my mind catches up. And it only barely does catch up. I pull my foot back in before I’m out on the roof. How did I get so close to going out the window? What am I doing?

Come to me, the voice calls again.

And a moment after I hear it, again my bare feet and hands climb onto the windowsill before I can stop them. My hands steady my body as I duck my head through the open window. The wind pushes my hair into my eyes so that I cannot see. I can’t stop myself. My hands hold onto the window frame, and one foot starts to step out onto the roof.

Chapter 2

The next morning, the knock on my bedroom door feels like someone is pounding directly on my skull.

Wake up, it’s time for school. Thank goodness it’s Friday! Mom sings.

It’s too early for singing, in my opinion. My head throbs as I sit up. A super gross line of drool starting at a pool on the floor follows up to my mouth. I wipe it away with a hand and regret it immediately. Trying to get the drool off my hand, I rub it on the side of my pajama shorts as I stand up.

How did I get to the floor?

The last thing I remember is the little kid’s voice and the window. My head pounds harder as if to punish me for trying to remember.

It was just a dream, wasn’t it?

Morning sunlight streams in from the window that is still open. Goosebumps have popped up on my arms from the chilly air. I close the window, take a few more steps, and flop onto my bed. Several minutes must pass by, but it only feels like seconds before Mom knocks again. She opens the door this time and peeks in.

Hurry, Kayla, or you’ll be late.

I groan as I roll off the bed. I feel like a zombie as I grab my purple hoodie from the floor and a pair of clean jeans, undies, and socks from the dresser and head down the hall to the bathroom. When I open the door, Brent is standing at the sink on a green stool with dinosaurs on it. His blond hair sticks up on the right side but looks perfectly combed on the other. His mouth is foamy with toothpaste. He stops brushing