Last Check Time:
2019-07-21 18:34:07 UTC

They Come at Night

Four teenagers. A cottage by the beach. A scary secret kept by the locals.
And those who come at night …

A classic teen horror story in a gothic setting told in a modern voice, They Come at Night was originally published in Danish to great reviews, and is now available in English.
 

REVIEWS

 
“Fun, creepy and thrilling! Wauw, it was a good book!”
★★★★★ The Book Experience

“A refreshing read that will quench any book lovers’ thirst for horror”
★★★★★ Price Girls

“A true pleasure to read—I just couldn’t put it down!”
★★★★★ Goodreads Reviewer
 

They Come at Night has everything for fans of horror, mystery, thrills and suspense. It’s direct, funny and scary. For fans of The Fog, The Mist, Dead Sea and Lovecraftian tales. Try it instead of watching a cheesy B-movie!
 

EXCERPT

 
The storm whipped cold raindrops into my face, making it hard to see. Lightning was flashing all around me, and the thunder grew louder with each clap.
    Finally, I saw the lights from the windows. I snuck around the back, and through the window, I saw Chris lying on his bed, playing on his computer. I tapped the glass gently. He turned his head and looked directly at me, his eyes widening.
    I waved and signaled for him to come and open the window.
    He got up, but instead of coming to the window, he went to a drawer and took something out. He came over and opened the window ajar. “What do you want?” he asked, giving me a suspicious look.
    “I just want to talk,” I said, pulling up my collar. I was soaked to the bone. “Would you please open it all the way?”
    “You’re not coming in,” Chris said. He leaned forward and looked down at my feet. “And I won’t talk to you before you touch this …”
    The thing he had been hiding behind his back was, of course, an anchor. He stuck it out the window.
    “Sure, no problem.” I took the anchor, turning it over. “Satisfied?”
    He nodded and looked a little bit less uneasy. “Give it back to me, please.”
    I handed him back the anchor, and he opened the window all the way.
    “Was that some sort of test?” I asked.
    “Yes,” Chris said. “And you passed. I had to be sure you hadn’t become one of them.”
    “Who is ‘them’?” I asked. “You have to tell me what you know, Chris. I think we might be in danger.”
    “If you put up the anchor like I told you—”
    “We didn’t put up the anchor!” I interrupted.
    Chris’s eyes gleamed with fear.
    “Tell me what the hell is going on around here!” I demanded.
    “All right,” Chris said. “But keep your voice down.” He chewed his lip for a moment. Then, he started talking. “I don’t know when it started. Maybe it has always been like this. But you and your friends chose the worst time to come here. It only happens once a year, and never more than three nights in a row.”
    “What happens?” I whispered.
    “The tide, of course. It floods the whole area. But I guess you noticed by now. Everyone around here knows about it. We put up plenty of anchors, though, so no harm can come to us.”
    “Who is trying to harm you?” I asked. “Who are they?”
    Chris was about to answer, when lightning flashed, illuminating everything for a split second. The thunderclap followed immediately.
    “They are lost souls,” he whispered. “They have been cursed to live in the ocean …”