It's only attacks at night

Chapter one 

Chapter 1: The Silent Party

The glow of streetlights stretched into the distance, casting long shadows on the cracked pavement as Officer Zack Renner drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his patrol car. It was nearing dawn, and the hum of a quiet night was giving way to the sounds of morning. His eyelids felt heavy, but he forced himself to stay alert, listening to the crackling radio.

"Unit 19, noise complaint logged last night at 145 Westwood Drive. Neighbors heard loud music, screaming around midnight. Checked out this morning. Requesting backup—residents unaccounted for."

The dispatcher's tone faltered before continuing, "No signs of a struggle. No forced entry. Doors and windows are locked from the inside. Witnesses say... they heard screaming, but..."

A long pause filled the air.

"Clothes and personal belongings are left behind. No bodies. Respond immediately."

Zack's jaw tightened as he reached for the mic clipped to his dashboard.

"This is Unit 12, Officer Renner. I'm five minutes away. I'll check it out."

He hung up, his fingers tapping the steering wheel faster. Something about this report felt... wrong. Noise complaints turning into missing persons cases weren't unheard of, but the descriptions were getting stranger with every report. Last month, a birthday party at the edge of town ended in ten people vanishing. They found half-eaten cake, scattered shoes, and nothing else.

No footprints. No blood. No explanation.

The cruiser's tires hissed over the pavement as Zack turned sharply onto Westwood Drive, the headlights slicing through the dimness. His gut tightened when the house came into view—a large, two-story structure with ivy creeping up its stone walls. A perfect place for a wild party, he thought, but the air was too still.

Too dead.

He parked at the curb, scanning the driveway. Cars filled every space, some blocking the street. There must have been dozens of guests, yet not a single sign of movement. Zack grabbed his flashlight and stepped out, his boots crunching the gravel as he approached the front door.

"145 Westwood Drive," he muttered to himself, shining the beam over the porch. "Where did you all go?"

He knocked, the sound echoing through the silence.

"Police. Anybody home?"

Nothing.

The doorknob turned under his hand, unlocked.

Zack's instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He drew his gun and pushed the door open slowly. The living room greeted him with the stale scent of alcohol, perfume, and something metallic—a faint, coppery tang that clung to the back of his throat.

He swept the room with his flashlight.

Clothes were everywhere.

Jeans crumpled on the floor. Dresses draped over furniture. Sneakers abandoned near the couch. A tuxedo jacket lay slumped over an armrest as if its owner had shrugged it off mid-dance. Red plastic cups dotted the room, their contents dried into sticky puddles on the hardwood floor.

Zack's pulse quickened as he moved deeper into the house.

"Hello?" he called again.

The dining room was a frozen scene of chaos—plates half-filled with food, silverware scattered, a bottle of champagne overturned, its contents staining the white tablecloth. Chairs lay on their sides as if someone had shoved them away in a hurry.

The clothes continued here, too. Jackets and scarves. A pair of high heels near the doorway. All the signs of a party—but no people.

Zack crouched, shining the flashlight on the floor. His eyes caught something near the back door—deep scratches etched into the wood. He traced them with his fingers. Jagged. Uneven. As if something had clawed its way out... or in.

A faint creak echoed from above.

Zack froze.

His breath slowed as he tilted his head, listening. The sound came again—a dull, rhythmic thump.

His heart thudded in his chest. He rose slowly, gun drawn, and began to climb the stairs. Each step groaned beneath his weight.

The hallway stretched ahead, dark and silent.

He pushed open the first door on the left—a bedroom. The bed was unmade, blankets twisted into a heap. Clothes lay in a pile on the floor. No sign of life.

He moved to the next door. A bathroom. Empty.

The last door at the end of the hall stood slightly ajar.

Zack edged closer, his flashlight revealing the shadows within. He nudged the door open with the tip of his gun.

The room was bare, save for a single, solitary dress draped over a chair by the window.

The window was locked from the inside.

And then...

A whisper.

Soft. Faint. Like a breath of wind curling around his ears.

Zack spun, his flashlight darting through the darkness.

"Who's there?"

Nothing answered but the oppressive silence.

His pulse raced as he backed out of the room, his senses on high alert. As he reached the top of the stairs, the whisper came again—closer this time.

Zack gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the gun.

"Show yourself."

A crash shattered the silence below.

He bolted down the stairs, his flashlight cutting through the dark as he swept the first floor. The dining room table had collapsed. Plates lay shattered, silverware scattered like confetti.

But there was no one there.

Zack moved toward the kitchen, his eyes catching movement—just a flicker in the corner of his vision. He whipped around, gun aimed, but the space was empty.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated through the floor.

Zack's breath hitched.

The sound wasn't human.

It came again, deep and resonant, like a predator hidden in the shadows. The coppery tang in the air grew stronger, coating his tongue.

He stepped back, his mind racing.

Noise complaints. Locked doors. Empty clothes.

He swallowed hard.

Something was in this house.

And it wasn't human.

"What Are You?" He asked pointing his gun flash light on now once the light hit the spot the thing had quickly left the building but it was as if it took the whole wall down with it.

"Look out !" Shouted his partner Albert. Ketching him out of the way before the wall fell on top of the both of them .

" That was close"...- " did you see any thing?" Asking helping him up now to stand.

" What ever this thing is, or if it's a thing, it's gone now it's like the light hurts it".

" Or it could be that the wall was about to come down anyways ". Albert spoke now putting his gun back into his shift and report to his walky.

" All clear".. " we almost got smooshed though by a wall not a single body to be spotted for". 

" We're could of all them just vanished to, it's almost as if they been up ducted". " What like alien crap?, dude aliens don't exist, watching to many scary videos these days with that sexy fiance of yours".

They chuckled and walked out of the building but still leaving Zack in a bit of uneasy ness.