The Dark People I was your average police officer. I'd had my fair share of everything; murders, suicides, fires, bombs even. But, in my 27 years of being with the force, nothing would've ever prepared me for what I witnessed on that August night.

We got a call from a little boy, about seven years old saying that 'the Dark People' were hurting his father. he was sobbing into the phone, and the dispatcher said that he swears he heard screaming in the background. We figured 'The Dark People' were people wearing dark clothes, or had dark skin.

My squad was rushed out, and when we get this apartment, it looked like something the devil himself spit out of hell. The door had been ripped off its hinges, finger nail marks gouged into it. Inside, we found the little boy, curled up in a ball, sobbing over his father's mangled body.

One of our female officers had to pry him off and calm him down. She seemed the only one fit for this job, because she was a mother of three.

The father was sadistically murdered. His arms, neck, and chest were clawed out, chucks of flesh missing from his face, and his eyes were still opened, shock immortalized on his face. And he was still breathing.

We called in an ambulance, but, by the time they got there, he'd passed away. I remembered him muttering something to us, something along the lines of, "Don't let them get Daniel". Daniel was his son, and the boy who made the phone call.

After searching the place for any evidence of the murders, we came up with nothing. We did find some pretty insane stuff, however.

Every picture of the father was been blurred, like he was a shadow. And a few of our guys claimed they saw something dart from on end of the room to another. Aside from that, we didn't find a thing.

Daniel was in a bad state when I talked to him. He kept telling us that the Dark People were after him. We went so far as to bring in a sketch artist and have the Daniel describe what they looked like. The image still haunts me to this day.

What Daniel described was horrible; a creature with all white eyes, sharp, needle- like teeth, and completely black. Its arms were long, he said, it had fingers like pencils. He even went told us that they smelled like rotten eggs. Daniel told us that they only come when it's dark out, and refused to sleep with the lights off.

His mother was called to the scene, and was equally horrified by her son's description. She begged us to see her son, and I personally drove her back to our office so that she and her son could talk.

A few nights later, we still hadn't come up with anything. I was getting frustrated, because I hated not being able to figure things out.

The mother and Daniel were staying in our offices, as their house was a crime scene. One night, I was about ready to leave when Daniel rounded the corner screaming bloody murder.

I asked him what was wrong, and Daniel said the Dark People killed his mother. We rushed to the scene, and I had to leave to be sick.

The mother's face was covered in blood, her chest had been ripped open, and her arms were almost skinless, because whoever, or whatever, did this had scratched her that badly. She too, had shock still on her face, but she wasn't breathing.

We put Daniel in a safe room on the opposite side of the building, making sure that there was somebody there with him at all time.

I stayed with him for about two hours before another officer offered to take my place. As I was walking out of the building, I saw the Dark People Daniel had said about.

There was about six of them, all over seven feet tall. Their heads flicked back and forth, seeming like they had no neck bones. Their arms were long, skinny, and their hands were curled up in impossible ways. One looked at me, its colourless eyes staring unblinkingly at me. I only could see these creatures because of the nearby street lamp, and right before they left, one smiled at me. Its jagged, needle- like teeth inclined inward, blood oozing from its gums.

They live in the shadows.

Especially the darker ones, like the one you're casting right now.