Glory Chambers had been living on the ranch all of her twenty years. She enjoyed working with the animals there, riding horses and even cleaning the stables. She couldn’t imagine working in store or behind a desk. Nothing beat the crisp open air and just getting some dirt under her fingernails. A lot of girls in Skinwalker Valley didn’t understand. They wanted to get out of the small town, move to Salt Lake City where they could dance in clubs and make a career in anything from advertising to modeling. Glory had the looks and smart to do either according to her friends. She’d never admit that though. She liked wearing cut-off jeans and simple checkered shirts. Her hair was long and unkept. She never wore make-up. Still, she’d had her share of suitors from the farmhands working there. She wasn’t interested in them, though. She loved the farm, the animals. She had no need for a boyfriend.

There had been a long line of farmhands who came to work at the ranch but left after a few weeks. They were seriously lacking at the moment, but a new one was supposed to start in a week. They were scared off by the strange sightings the ranch had become known for. There had been talks of strange lights in the evening, unnatural predators scouring the grounds and even of ghosts. She had never seen any of those, though. She figured the farmhands had just been drinking too much whiskey or smoking too much pot. She did neither, preferring a healthy lifestyle.

Whistling, she walked to the gates where the cows grazed. They were very quiet this morning. In fact she couldn’t see them move at all. As she got closer her heart started to race. This couldn’t be true. She started to run, tears already in her eyes. As she reached the gate she saw her worst fear had become reality. There was no cow alive anymore. All of them had been viciously slaughtered. The grass was filled with their entrails, the green grass turned red from their blood. She got down on her knees and screamed.


About the author

Jochem Vandersteen

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