Epic of Jonah: Hallow’s Eve Sample

Here is a sample from my book to release on Halloween. It was supposed to release in 2020, but here we are, now! :)

His foot slipped on something wet at the base of the steps—blood. Jonah almost lost his balance, but he caught himself, now fully aware that this liquid marked the path he’d need to climb. He took a shaky breath and pressed on, the pungent scent of metallic copper clogging his nostrils.

He reached the top of the stairs, and the first thing he saw was the body. Jonah’s breath caught. The face was unrecognizable, crushed inward, the body contorted. But the bikini skirt, now stained, and the shape of her bruised, lifeless torso told him it was Alma.

He gasped and stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him with a dull thud. It almost knocked the breath from him. For a moment, he allowed his eyes to blur. He wanted to shut it all out—to forget everything he’d seen. But that wasn’t an option. Survival didn’t allow for softness, not now.

A noise—a soft whirring, mechanical—caught his attention. Jonah looked up, the sign on the door at the top of the stairs reading “Surveillance Room.” He didn’t hesitate. He bolted up the final steps, breath coming in shallow gasps, his blood-slicked feet slipping slightly on the wooden planks.

He reached the door and pushed it open, hoping for something—answers, salvation, a clue that he wasn’t alone in this madness. The room was small, crammed with flickering monitors. The screens showed fragmented images of the barn, the field, the room he had just left. Jonah scanned the footage, his eyes wide, hoping, pleading silently.

There—in the corner of one screen—he saw movement. The barn, the one he’d stumbled out of. The dark tendrils, still lingering, swirled. Jonah felt his heart lurch. Whatever had left his body—it wasn’t done. It was gathering strength again, searching for a new host.

He clenched his jaw, the weight of what he must do settling over him like a shroud. He was still alive, which meant he had a choice. He needed to find Kiana, to get her out. Whatever he had brought upon this place, he could not leave her to face it alone.

Jonah turned, his resolve hardening despite the terror that surged within him. He had seen death tonight—felt its presence far too intimately. And still, there was something within him that refused to yield. A whisper of hope, a call to arms. He couldn’t abandon her. Not now. Not ever.

*******

The night was heavy, almost suffocating in its silence, as if even the air itself were keeping secrets. Jonah sat at the edge of their bed, his body hunched forward, his face buried in his hands, fingers trembling as they clutched his forehead. The weight of what he had seen—what he had done—hung over him like a storm cloud, dark and unyielding. His bare shoulders heaved, his breath shallow, almost panicked.

Behind him, Kiana moved quietly, her footsteps a soothing rhythm against the cold hardwood floor. She carried with her the warmth of the room they had made together—a space of safety, now threatening to collapse under the weight of the night’s events. She approached Jonah slowly, her heart pounding as she took in his defeated form. His vulnerability pulled at something deep within her, both tender and fierce.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her fingers brushing his skin as if it were glass, delicate and at risk of shattering. “I needed a moment too, Jonah,” she said softly, her voice breaking the tension of silence in the room. She swallowed the fear lodged in her throat, pushing through. “I didn’t want you to be alone… not for this.”

Jonah raised his head, his eyes hollow, as though the soul behind them was miles away. The footage played in muted shades on the monitor—his hands, his rage, Dustin’s face. It was all still there, running in the corners of his mind like a horror film with no end. She reached across him, pressing the stop button, the screen going black, but that blackness was no comfort. It filled his vision until his shoulders began to shudder.

Kiana didn’t say anything more, she simply pulled him to her, her cheek resting against the back of his neck, whispering, “Shhh… we’re going to figure this out.” She kissed his neck, small delicate kisses, each one meant to pull him back to her, back to this moment, away from the darkness that threatened to consume him whole.

She wanted him to know he wasn’t alone, that he was still here, still Jonah—her Jonah—even after everything. She pulled the robe around his naked body, shielding him from the cold, from the vulnerability he now wore openly. His shoulders shook harder, and his sobs broke free, a low, guttural sound.

“Jonah, this doesn’t define you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. She shifted, moving in front of him, her eyes locking with his, their depths filled with something primal, something protective. She pulled his face toward her chest, holding him close.

As his tears fell, she felt her own emotions swirl—a mix of fear, helplessness, and love. She needed to make him forget, just for a while, to lift this weight off his shoulders. There was a desperation in her, a quiet pleading that he stay here with her and not drift to some place she couldn’t follow.

Kiana kissed him again, first on his forehead, then down to his lips—softly at first, then with more intent, an urgency growing between them. She felt his hesitation, his confusion, and yet he responded. He kissed her back, his hands gripping her waist as if he might fall if he let go. She took his hand, leading it to her cheek, letting him feel her warmth, her presence.

“Let me take it all away, just for tonight,” she murmured, her voice a mix of compassion and something else—something raw and desperate. Her fingers moved down, slipping beneath the waistband of his pants, a deliberate touch that brought his gaze back into sharp focus.

Jonah looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since everything had happened. She saw the war in his eyes—anger, regret, confusion—but behind all that, there was still love. Kiana straddled him, her hands on either side of his face, cradling him like something precious. She moved against him slowly, deliberately, drawing his attention away from everything but her—her warmth, her scent, the rhythm they fell into together.

He closed his eyes, letting the sensation take over, letting her pull him away from the cold, hard reality that waited on the other side of dawn. For now, it was just them, tangled in each other, her whispers drowning out the images that threatened to break him.

“Happy Halloween,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear as the clock on the nightstand glowed—4:03 AM.