Do not read this book.
Stop. Put it down now. Don’t go any further. If you’re reading it, you’re already an unlucky sunnuvabitch as it is. Don’t make it any worse. Trust me. If you like your life, if you value your sanity and your health, forget this book, throw it away, burn it, whatever. Just make sure you, on no account, read any further.
Ok, so you didn’t listen. Not unexpected. Odds are if you’re readin’ this that I’m probably beyond need of it anyway, so maybe, just MAYBE, it’ll do you more good that it did me. Maybe it’ll help keep you alive.
First things first, might as well get it out of the way: we are not alone. And I don’t mean no aliens-come-to-probe-us UFO nutjob bullcrap. I mean that the world ain’t what we think it is. Probably never has been. There are Things in the night. Lurking in the darkness, waiting in the shadows. You seen ‘em. We all have. The shiver runnin’ up your spine. The eyes watching you from your closet when you were six. That one man or woman you met at a party once that just seemed…off. Predatory. Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. We got names for some- have for most of history. Vampires. Ghosts. Witches. Werewolves.
It’s all real.
Take a minute, soak it in. Sounds crazy, I know. Seems impossible, don’t it? How could Monsters be real? Wouldn’t somebody notice?
That’s the scary part. These things’ve been with us since we were paintin’ on cave walls and huddlin’ round fires in the woods. They’re GOOD at not gettin’ found out. They’ve been hiding for centuries, or longer. They’ve covered there tracks, and nothin’s helped ‘em so much as modern society. Science and rational thought has all but stamped out the superstitions that kept our ancestors alive. Urban decay and overpopulation create playgrounds for these freaks to frolic in. Corruption and degeneracy make pulling the strings from the shadows that much easier. We’re living in a nightmare, controlled by things whose existence we scoff at. And no one’s the wiser.
Except sometimes they mess up. Sometimes, every so often, they get careless. They leave witnesses. Survivors. Curious, determined folk with minds just open enough to piece it all together. Of these people, many forget it, rationalizing what their worldview can’t accommodate and putting it behind ‘em. Some go crazy. But a few, a rare few, wake up to what’s really goin’ on. And they do somethin’ about it. And that, THAT is when the Things are really screwed.
That is when a Hunter is born.
We’re out there too, taking back the night. Hunters like me- people who’ve gotten wise to the Things Behind the Curtain and are stoppin’ at nothin’ to set the stage on fire. We’re the ones who fight back, each in our own ways. Sometimes it’s with shotguns and wooden stakes, other times with old books and pagan rituals, and (increasingly) with the power of modern technology. Some of us want to wipe ‘em all out, start a clean slate. Others want to just protect the herd, fighting or scaring off the wolves that come to close. A few want total exposure- to reveal the existence of the Supernatural to every Tom, Dick and Jane from Pleasantville to Beijing. No matter our methods, our cause is common. We’re the men and women on the walls, standing Vigil. We’re the light in the darkness.
And we ain’t goin’ out without a fight.