Publisher's Synopsis
In this moment I am born. Born.... alive, yes, I am alive. But what am I? What have they made me? How have I come to this? This horrific writing, these atrocious tales? Did I live them? Is this really me? "I am born", was that all there was, Born. To move about freely, to breathe again, to see again, a moment of life taken from another springs forth in me a vigor of renewed pleasure.Death was so becoming, the cold fingers of immortality gripped my very bones as my rooting flesh fed the miserly creatures of the night. Here I found solace, I found peace from the struggle, safe within the darkness of eternity now broken. In the darkness I hear a sound, a voice calling. I stop to listen to the voice crying out but no one answers. This is stillness, darkness, there is life but beyond what, is this what I know it to be? Hell!I wait, I linger and still I wait for time to call my name, then I will be freed from this world. But the sails of freedom never come and I have no witness as to where I was during the murders of the condemned. We'll perhaps I do have a witness or two, but they are the dead and cannot speak.I mourn my loss, my soul, the being that once was. I am the murderer, the cause of the silence, the darkness and yet I cannot change what is before me, I cannot change what I must do, what is inside me, what calls to me in the darkness."The figure of what was once a man, stands over the beaten and broken body of a woman so harshly battered that one must guess that she was once human, once alive. The face that might had cause a young man to smile, is now torn, eaten by rats, carved by the butcher's knife and now drug to the railroad tracks and discarded. Hate, rage, I am overwhelmed by this, this horrid infection called life. I feel my skin tingle in the breeze, the freshness of the midnight air swims around me. The cast-off bodies of the dead at my feet are of no use to me. The strange odor of decaying flesh cannot be mistaken but my anger consumes me and I seek the next victim to fill my hands so that I might release this anger in the grip of another's death. Creatures in the night are my childhood nightmares from watching late night horror shows, this then is my retelling of those dreams with a gay twist.