Every town has that one family. The family that stays to themselves, tucked away on some backwoods road. The mystery that surrounds them builds fear, confusion and myth. Parents give warning, while locals are all too eager to build on the rumors to each new comer.
But they're just rumors...right?
Just outside of Philadelphia, tucked away off the backroads of an area locals have called Satanville, lives one of those families. Follow along as Jane relives a night of partying and pranks with her friends that suddenly takes a gruesome turn. Find out what measures must be taken in order to survive.
Excerpt
We've all heard the stories. At least once. I can still hear the warnings my parents would give me every time we drove by that god forsaken road. I can still remember how my mother would say, “Now Janey, don't you ever find yourself down that road. Bad people live down there.” Maybe it was because of her always having to push it into my brain that caused me to be so curious. Or maybe it was just my imagination running wild each time we would drive by. Either way, I would always stare through my window, trying to see down that pitch black road. Back then, I never could figure out what could have been so bad about those people. Just the simple question of who these people were would send my mind into a frenzy. It appeared as though she had always made them out to be what nightmares are truly made of. What was so terrible that my mother would warn me to stay away from even the road itself? The road! I mean... It was just a road after all... wasn't it? Despite that, in those moments, it seemed to have been working. My fear of what may lie down that road was overpowering my curiosity. Even as I would press my face against the cold car window, I would say aloud, “but it's just a road.. what's so bad about that road?” Once my curiosity filled daydreams would subside, I would find myself back in my seat. My father's eyes fixated on me through the rear-view mirror. His brow was stern, but his darkened eyes would quickly lighten up. Next, as always, he would give me a little wink, and his eyes would return to the road. Eventually, he would turn the radio up; instantly my curiosity would move to the songs. That's how it went, every day until the sixth grade. I can still remember it clearly. Very clearly. It was the day that all of my mother's warnings had finally made sense. When they were no longer just stories and empty instructions. That was the day they found that poor girl. Everything around me seemed to come to a halting stop. I think that was the first time I ever experienced a complete tunnel vision. If you have ever experienced tunnel vision out of sheer fear, then you can understand. It's as though nothing else even matters. I had just walked through the door, and what had seemed to be the perfect day quickly began to no longer matter. I could hear the television in the family room; it was awfully loud. My dad wouldn't even have it that loud for the big game. Which, I’m sure, is why I remember the volume of it. “Go to your room Janey,” my father strictly demanded of me. “But I just got home, and I'm thirsty.” I paused and gave a quick glance from around the corner as I hung my backpack on the wooden coat rack that was kept by the front door. Looking back, I remember hoping that he was not paying too much attention to me. “I'm hungry too. What do we have to-” “Now Jane! I'll bring you something in a few minutes. You really don't need to be seeing this.” When my father interrupted, you knew he was serious. Of all the things he despised, out of all the points he would teach me never to do during a conversation; interruption was number one! But I was almost a teenager, and being almost a teen means almost doing what you are told. And I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. What was on the news that I really don't need to be seeing? That's when I realized that my day no longer mattered. At least, not to me anyway.
