The Glow

Written by: Megan Rach

The room is quiet, save for the hum of murmuring journalists talking into their handheld recorders. Heads bowed over notebooks, making sure their fellow reporters don’t overhear and try to scoop them. The air is charged as they wait. 

The metal door opens, a booming noise in the hushed room. It signals the start of a flurry of activity. Camera shutters click in rapid succession. Papers rustle as reporters get themselves in order. 

Edmond John walks swiftly to the table at the front of the room, a bouquet of microphones in front of him as he takes his seat. He takes a brief pause, a deep breath, before addressing the room.

“The CIA thanks you all for being here today, and for your continued effort in striving toward the truth and accuracy. I’m here to explain the events that took place on the night of Thursday, November 15th, 2012 and the succeeding days. After that, I will open up the room for questions.” Edmond pauses again, putting on a show of stoicism to mask his own hesitation. 

“At approximately 10:49pm on November 13th, we received information about an aberration that had taken place in the town of Ridgeview in the state of Maine. We were made aware of this after local and state authorities were unsuccessful in controlling the anomaly. After the arrival of the CIA, subsequently stationed in town, the anomaly was taken care of, and the town once again safe as of November 17th.”

Edmond looks out into the group of reporters before looking at his own shaking hands clasped on top of the table. 

“The official story is that the town is safe, the anomaly controlled and nothing like it could happen again. However…” He looks up from his hands. “However, I believe that we all deserve the whole story.”

–

Special Agent Natalie Doule pulls her car up to the Jones home. The door is ajar, caution tape across the entryway. She sees Forensics clad in protective equipment ducking under the tape with plastic bags and cameras in their hands. Natalie gets out of her car, holding her badge up to the scientists closest to her.

“How’s it going in there?” she asks a scientist holding several bags containing various sizes of bones in each. The scientist shakes his head.

“It’s the worst I’ve ever seen. There’s hardly anything solid left.” The scientist motions toward the door. “You can go in, but I’m telling you now, you’re going to want to put some equipment on.”

Natalie nods, making her way to the van for the protective equipment she zips on over top of her suit. She walks to the front door, dipping under the caution tape and into the house. As she takes in the scene around her, she instinctively covers her mouth with a gloved hand.

The room is a deep shade of red. Everything is covered. The furniture, the family photos, the windows. The carpet is entirely saturated, squelching beneath her feet with each step she takes. She steps over the evidence tags, walking toward the chief of forensics, Mark. He looks up from a small bone fragment on the floor near the stairway. 

“Agent Doule? Thanks for coming.” Mark places an evidence tag on the floor next to the bone fragment before standing up. Natalie holds out her hand to shake Mark’s, but Mark holds his hands up, showing the blood and viscera on his gloves.

“I’ll spare you the mess,” he says, grimly. Mark sighs as he leads Natalie through the kitchen and into the basement, each step leaving a bloody footprint on the layer of protective plastic laid down on the tiled floor and the wooden stairs. As Natalie enters the basement den, she takes in the scene. Scorch marks burned into the concrete flooring in a perfect circle, the outer ring still smouldering. She feels a sense of dread, the air heavy and suffocating. She needs to run, needs to get out, needs to escape, needs to scream, needs to-

“I’ve seen a lot of horrible things but this…I can’t even begin to explain this.” Mark lets out a shaky breath, not moving beyond the last step while gripping the banister. His gaze is fixed on the burning circle. “What do you all think it is?”

Natalie keeps her composure, despite the rising urge to shove Mark out of the way and run back up the stairs. 

“We have some theories but nothing concrete yet. The priority is making sure this doesn’t go public.” She tears her eyes from the circle. “Did you find any sign of Dan- Agent Malone yet?” 

Mark shakes his head. “Whatever happened to him, he didn’t become a part of all of that,” he answers, pointing above them. Natalie nods her head, taking in Mark’s words. Could Danny have escaped? Or… Natalie tries to shake the words from her mind but they don’t go away. Could he have been involved?

–

Edmond takes in the cameras in front of him, the microphones pointed at his face. He looks into the camera directly ahead of him. 

“Agent Daniel Malone was stationed at the Jones household to oversee the family and ensure their protection once the issues came to the CIA’s attention. Based on reports and recordings found at the scene, Agent Malone witnessed the family being attacked by the anomaly and he ran into the home to help them. While his recording stopped shortly after his entry into the basement, we were able to recover this snippet.”

Edmond taps his phone, pressing play on a sound file. Daniel’s panicked voice fills the room.

“Louise, Johnny? Where are you? What’s going on-AH!” Something crashes, Daniel gasps while he runs through the house. A horrific squelch before a terrible shriek. Daniel’s footsteps are heard running down the stairs. “Oh my god, what are you?” Daniel screams over another shriek, just before the recording cuts out.

The room is silent. Edmond pockets his phone. “We are unsure of Agent Malone’s current whereabouts. Or his status.”

–

Natalie sits at the table in her motel room, sifting through files and photographs. She clicks on a grainy video file taken by a witness from outside of the house. She watches as the windows are splattered with waves of blood, shadows of the residents inside being thrown around. After another minute, the door opens. Natalie’s stomach drops as she takes in the figure standing at the door. It’s Daniel, but he’s changed. His shoulders hunch, his head lowered. He appears to be crying, until he looks up towards the camera. He’s smiling, his eyes glowing like embers. The same glow as the circle in the basement. He begins to walk toward the witness, who begins to run away. The video ends.

Natalie sits in stunned silence, staring at the image of Daniel on her screen. She shudders, feeling someone standing over her shoulder. She spins in her seat, but sees nothing. Turning back to the computer, she takes the still from the video and runs it through the CIA database, searching for any camera footage to match over the last few days. Only two results come up. The first was from the night of the attack, Daniel walked past the town’s sole ATM 38 minutes after leaving the Eisenberg house. The second was just one night ago. Natalie’s heart jumps as she clicks on the recent result. It’s a photo of Daniel, hunched, eyes glowing, standing outside of Natalie’s motel room.

–

The Jones' house is empty. Forensics has cleared out, leaving blue plastic covering the living room window to keep the blood from being visible to those outside. Natalie walks around to the back of the house. She’s about to break in, but she sees the backdoor already slightly open. Someone is already inside. 

The blue plastic over all of the windows blocks out any light able to pass through the dried, cracking blood. She takes out her flashlight, walking through the kitchen until she approaches the door to the basement. As she touches the doorknob, her stomach flips. She feels her heart quicken, her breath uneven. Fighting off her lightheadedness, she opens the door and proceeds down the stairs.

The ring on the basement floor continues to glow. But this time, a figure sits in the middle of it. Daniel. Daniel, chanting under his breath. A step creaks under Natalie, and Daniel’s eyes shoot open, red and glowing. His smile is grotesque, teeth rotting and mouth blackened with dried blood. Natalie can’t take another step. She looks into the eyes of the creature, searching for any trace of the man who used to be her partner, her friend. 

The creature inhabiting Daniel’s body shrieks, spittle flying from its mouth. The ring on the floor glows brighter as the creature stands. 

“Daniel! Please, don’t do this, you can fight it!” Natalie pleads. The creature only smiles again, contorting Daniel’s. It lunges at Natalie.

Natalie reaches for her gun, but she’s too slow. The creature tackles her, dragging her to the concrete floor. As Natalie tries to fight the creature off, it drives a sharpened, dirty fingernail into her thigh. Natalie screams in pain, but she frees her gun from the holster and shoots the creature in the stomach. It recoils, shrieking, back into the glowing ring on the floor.

Natalie watches as Daniel’s body lurches, the spectral being attempting to separate from the flesh of its hostage. Daniel’s body collapses, fighting the spirit inside of it, when the door bursts open.

Five special agents rush down the stairs, shooting iron rounds into Daniel’s legs to further incapacitate him. Daniel lands face down on the floor, the agents tying his hands and feet together. The spirit fights to escape Daniel’s body, but it’s too late - it’s bound to the human man. 

Natalie lies on the floor, leg bleeding. She turns her head to Daniel, and she watches as the glow in his eyes cease for just a moment. In that moment, he turns to Natalie and smiles sadly. Natalie smiles back, knowing that it’s the real Daniel looking at her.

The agents pick up Daniel’s body, taking it from the basement, while medics tend to Natalie’s injuries. Just as she is being helped back up the stairs, Natalie turns back to look at the ring on the floor. It continues to faintly glow.

“Let’s get you home, huh?” one of the agents says as he helps Natalie into the back of a van. After shutting the doors, he speaks into his earpiece.

“We have them both…yes, we’re en route to the facility now. Over.” He starts the van and drives away from the Jones' home.

–

Edmond nods to the group in the press room. He smiles faintly.

“After a perilous few days, the threat has been subdued, and has been cleared. We are all safe. I will now take questions, if anyone has any.”

The room explodes in a flurry of voices, all asking various questions in their bid for attention. A photographer snaps a photo of Edmond sitting at the table, but deletes it after taking a look. He noticed a lens flare that made Edmond's eyes look strange.

As if they were glowing, red rings.

Megan Rach is a web designer and writer. After graduating from Humber College's Journalism: Print & Broadcast program in 2014 with a specialization in Print (newspaper, magazine writing and design), Megan began freelancing in music journalism and photography in the Toronto music scene. Megan has previously taken part in writing competitions such as the NYC@Midnight Short Screenplay competition (where she was awarded 1st and 2nd place, respectively, in her categories in 2024).

In 2025, Megan is working on Slash Magazine, as well as her short fiction collection, "Doomscroll".