They Came with the Storm

The wind had been whispering warnings all day. At first, it was just a restless breeze, rustling the brittle leaves that clung stubbornly to their branches. By afternoon, the sky had darkened into a moody shade of gray, and the air smelled thick—like damp earth and something electric, something waiting.

Inside the small house on the edge of the marsh, Eliza moved through the rooms, securing windows and lighting candles. The power always flickered during storms out here, and she wasn’t about to be caught unprepared. The old place groaned against the rising wind, a familiar yet unsettling sound.

Her father had built this house long before she was born, on a plot of land that should have belonged to the water. Every storm threatened to reclaim it, and every year, he had fought to keep it standing. Now, it was just her.

She reached for the old radio on the kitchen counter and turned the dial until a staticky voice crackled through.

“Severe weather advisory for Camden County and surrounding areas… residents advised to stay indoors as the system moves in… wind speeds expected to exceed sixty miles per hour…”

She sighed, rubbing her arms as a chill passed through her. It wasn’t just the weather. Something about the night felt… off.

A distant rumble vibrated through the walls, and Eliza paused, pressing her palm against the cool glass of the window. In the distance, over the marsh, the sky had split open in streaks of light. The storm was coming fast.

Then she saw it—movement where there shouldn’t have been any. A shadow shifting near the dock, disappearing into the reeds.

Her breath hitched. No one was supposed to be out here.

She reached for the lantern, stepping onto the porch just as the first fat raindrops splattered against the wooden planks. The wind howled through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, a branch snapped.

“Hello?” she called, her voice barely carrying over the rising storm.

Nothing.

Just the wind.

Just the storm.

Just—

A crash. Behind her. Inside the house.

Eliza spun around, heart pounding, the storm outside suddenly not feeling like the worst thing waiting for her that night.

For a moment, she hesitated on the porch, the lantern flickering in her grip. The rain picked up, cold drops pelting her bare arms, but she barely noticed. Her pulse roared in her ears as she strained to hear past the wind.

Another noise—this time inside. A slow, deliberate creak of a floorboard.

Someone was in the house.

Eliza stepped backward into the doorway, the lantern’s glow casting trembling shadows on the wooden walls. Her father’s old hunting rifle was mounted above the fireplace. Too far. And even if she could get to it, the bullets were in the cabinet by the stairs.

The wind rattled the shutters as another crack of thunder shook the sky. Lightning flashed, illuminating the kitchen for the briefest moment—

And there it was. A figure, just beyond the counter.

Eliza sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening around the lantern handle.

The figure didn’t move.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “Who’s there?”

Silence.

Then, a step forward.

Another flash of lightning, and she saw him clearly now—a man, half-hidden in the shadows, drenched from the storm, his eyes fixed on her.

“Eliza,” he said.

Her breath hitched. That voice. Familiar, yet impossible.

Her brother had been dead for ten years.

Eliza’s breath caught in her throat. The storm raged outside, but it was nothing compared to the one inside her chest.

She knew that voice.

Knew it in the way she knew the sound of the tide against the dock, the scent of the marshland after a heavy rain.

But it wasn’t possible.

Daniel had died ten years ago.

She clutched the lantern tighter, her knuckles turning white. “No,” she whispered. “You’re not real.”

Lightning split the sky again, illuminating the kitchen in a stark white glow. And there he was—soaked to the bone, his dark hair clinging to his forehead, the same sharp jawline, the same piercing blue eyes she hadn’t seen in a decade.

Her knees nearly gave out.

“I—” He stepped forward, his boots squelching against the wooden floor. “It’s really me, Eliza.”

Her mind screamed at her to run, but her feet stayed rooted in place. “Daniel’s dead.” Her own voice sounded distant. “We buried him.”

He exhaled, raking a hand through his wet hair. “I know what they told you. I know what you thought. But I didn’t die that night.”

A gust of wind howled through the cracks in the house, rattling the shutters. The lantern flickered wildly in her grip, casting distorted shadows across the walls.

“What are you saying?” Her voice wavered.

He took another step closer, and this time, she moved back.

“Eliza,” he said gently, as if afraid she might disappear, “I swear to you, I never meant to leave. I never meant to—” He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “I was taken.”

The air in the room seemed to thin.

“Taken?” she repeated, her mind struggling to wrap around the word.

“That night—ten years ago—I wasn’t killed. I was taken.” His eyes darkened. “And I barely made it back.”

The wind roared outside, shaking the house to its foundation, but Eliza could hardly hear it over the pounding of her heart.

This was impossible. This was insane.

Yet… he stood before her.

And she had spent the last ten years feeling like a part of her had been ripped away, like the story of Daniel’s death had always been missing a page.

She thought of the body they had buried—the one the authorities swore was him. The one they had barely been able to identify after the wreck.

Her stomach twisted.

“What happened to you?” she whispered.

Lightning flashed again, and in that brief burst of light, she saw something in his eyes. Something hollow. Something haunted.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

The storm howled. The house groaned.

And deep inside, Eliza knew—

The worst was yet to come.

Eliza’s grip on the lantern tightened, the sweat on her palms making the handle slick. The wind shrieked against the house, rain hammering the roof like a thousand impatient fingers. Every part of her body screamed that this wasn’t real, that it couldn’t be real—

But Daniel was standing in front of her.

And his eyes… his eyes held something broken, something she had never seen in him before.

“Eliza,” he said again, his voice quieter this time, almost drowned out by the storm. “I don’t have much time.”

Her breath hitched. “Time for what?”

His jaw tightened. He glanced toward the window, lightning reflecting off the glass. “They’ll come looking for me.”

The way he said it sent a chill curling up her spine.

They.

Eliza swallowed. “Who?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just stood there, dripping water onto the old wooden floor, shadows flickering across his face as the lantern swayed in her grip.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “The ones who took me.”

A clap of thunder rattled the house.

Eliza’s skin prickled.

This was insane. Impossible.

But Daniel was here. He was alive.

And something in his voice made her believe him.

“What do you mean?” she asked, forcing herself to keep her voice steady.

Daniel exhaled shakily, rubbing his palms over his face as if trying to push away some memory. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“That night—the accident?” He paused, watching her reaction. “It wasn’t an accident.”

Eliza’s stomach turned.

“But they said—”

“They were wrong.” He cut her off gently. “I wasn’t in the truck when they found it.”

Her mouth went dry.

She thought back to the night Daniel had supposedly died. The search had lasted for days. The truck had been pulled from the river, twisted and broken from the crash. And the body—

A body.

One that had been burned beyond recognition.

Her breath came faster. “Then who did we bury?”

Daniel’s expression darkened. “I don’t know.”

Lightning flashed again, and for a split second, she thought she saw movement beyond the porch. A flicker of something wrong.

Daniel must have seen it too. His head snapped toward the window, muscles tensing.

“They’re here.”

A slow, sickening dread unfurled in Eliza’s chest.

“Who?” she whispered.

He turned back to her, his eyes sharp, urgent. “You have to trust me.”

Before she could answer, something slammed against the front door.

Hard.

Eliza flinched, the lantern’s flame sputtering wildly.

The wind outside had changed, no longer howling in random bursts, but rhythmic. Deliberate.

Another slam.

The doorknob rattled.

Daniel took a step forward, placing himself between her and the door. His voice was steady, but there was an edge of something raw beneath it.

“No matter what happens, Eliza—do not open that door.”

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

A pause.

Silence.

Then—

Three slow knocks.

Her blood turned to ice.

Whatever was outside… it wasn’t the storm.

And it wasn’t human.

Eliza’s breath hitched as the final knock echoed through the house. The wind shrieked outside, shaking the walls, but the silence that followed was worse. It was unnatural—heavy, expectant.

Her fingers clenched the lantern so tightly she thought the glass might shatter. She turned to Daniel, who stood rigid, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on the door like it was the only thing keeping something terrible at bay.

The doorknob rattled again.

“Eliza,” Daniel murmured without looking at her, “step back.”

She did, her feet moving on their own.

The air inside the house had changed, thickening like the storm had seeped in through the walls, pressing against her skin.

Then—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Not from the door this time.

From the window.

Eliza’s heart nearly stopped.

Slowly, her eyes flickered to the glass, to the rain-smeared darkness beyond.

Something was standing there.

A shape.

Tall. Still. Waiting.

Lightning flashed, and for a fraction of a second, she saw it—

A face.

Not a person. Not quite.

Its skin was stretched too tight over its skull, its eyes black and hollow, its mouth a little too wide. It didn’t blink.

It just stared.

The lantern flickered violently in her grip.

Her voice barely worked. “Daniel.”

“I know,” he said, his voice low, tense.

The thing outside the window tilted its head.

And then—it smiled.

Eliza’s knees nearly buckled. The room was spinning, her lungs forgetting how to pull in air.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

The doorknob twisted violently. The wood groaned under pressure.

Daniel moved fast. He grabbed Eliza’s wrist, pulling her further into the house. “We have to go. Now.”

She barely had time to protest before another slam rattled the door.

But this time, the wood cracked.

“They’re coming in,” she choked.

Daniel pulled her toward the back of the house. “Not if we get out first.”

She stumbled after him, her mind struggling to catch up. “Where—where are we going?”

“To the marsh.”

Eliza stopped dead. “What? No! We can’t—”

But Daniel spun around, gripping her shoulders, his face inches from hers.

“Eliza,” he said, his voice shaking but firm. “They don’t like the water.”

She blinked.

“What?”

Another violent crack from the door. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

Daniel’s grip tightened. “Trust me.”

Something inside her screamed not to listen—to barricade herself inside, to grab the rifle, to do anything but step outside where the storm raged and the night was alive with things that should not exist.

But Daniel was alive when he shouldn’t have been.

And something unnatural had come for them.

The door gave a final, earsplitting crack.

Eliza took a breath.

And she ran.

The rain hit Eliza like a wall as she stumbled down the steps, Daniel pulling her forward. The wind howled, tearing at her clothes, but it was nothing compared to the terror clawing up her spine.

Behind them, the house groaned.

Then—shattered.

Eliza risked a glance back. The door had exploded inward, splintered wood flying like shrapnel. The lantern she'd dropped on the porch flickered wildly, casting grotesque shadows on the walls.

And through that broken doorway, they came.

Figures, too tall and too thin, spilling into the house like smoke. Their movements weren’t natural—they bent at wrong angles, their heads twitching unnervingly. And their eyes… black pits, reflecting nothing but hunger.

Eliza’s breath hitched.

One of them stepped forward, slow and deliberate, like it had all the time in the world.

Then—it lunged.

Daniel yanked her arm, pulling her down the path toward the marsh. “Don’t stop!”

Their boots sank into the wet earth as they ran, the storm swallowing them whole. Lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating the reeds that towered over them. The wind carried whispers, sounds that weren’t quite human, slipping through the darkness.

Eliza’s chest burned. “Daniel—”

“Almost there!”

The water came into view, black and endless, stretching beyond the reeds. The dock, weathered and warped, jutted into the marsh. The place where Daniel had spent hours as a kid, fishing, laughing—

And the place where she had stood ten years ago, mourning his death.

“Eliza, jump!”

Her feet hit the dock. It groaned beneath their weight, the storm-slick wood threatening to send her tumbling. But Daniel didn’t stop. He grabbed her hand—

And pulled her into the water.

The cold was a knife, slicing through her skin, stealing the breath from her lungs.

She kicked frantically, disoriented, the storm above just a blur of chaos and darkness.

Then—Daniel’s hands found her. Held her down.

Panic surged. She thrashed, bubbles escaping her lips—

But he wouldn’t let go.

Then, beneath the surface, his voice filled her head.

Be still.

The words weren’t spoken. They were inside her.

Her body stilled.

The marsh was deep, darker than the sky above, but she could still see—

Shapes above the water. The creatures. Hesitating.

They lingered on the dock, their too-long limbs reaching, their heads tilting. But they didn’t enter.

Daniel had been right.

They wouldn’t touch the water.

Eliza’s lungs screamed for air, but she held on, watching as the figures faded back into the reeds, swallowed by the storm.

And then—silence.

Daniel pulled her up. They broke the surface together, gasping, rain pelting their faces.

The house in the distance was gone.

Nothing but splintered wood and swirling mist remained.

Eliza turned to Daniel, chest heaving. “What—what were they?”

His expression was grim. “The ones who took me.”

She swallowed hard. “Why did they let you go?”

He hesitated.

Then—quietly—

“They didn’t.”

Her blood turned to ice.

Daniel looked at her, a sad, knowing look in his eyes. “They’ll come back.”

Eliza’s breath caught.

He reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face.

“But this time,” he whispered, “you’ll be ready.”

And then—

He was gone.

The storm roared. The wind howled.

And Eliza was alone.

Waiting.