A/N: I read the comics and I've seen the movie. I'm a big fan of the comic but I'm basing this on the film since most people don't or won't read the comics.
This story takes place around the screams in the background of the movie; what the fugitives in the attic heard going on around them. This is what I see in my imagination as what was going on in the warm and supposed safe homes of Barrow. I'm intending for this to be a one page thing but you never know. I may add more.
IDW owns 30 Days of Night, not me. I just love the story.
Myriam, a visitor:
How long has it been? Hundreds? No. Thousands of years? It seems as if I've waited my entire existence for a moment like this. A time when we can walk the streets, hunting, stalking our prey. No need to hide. No need to "blend in" as the elders calls it.
Here and now, we rule the night. The never ending night. It truly is a beautiful thing.
My hunger will be satisfied. The thrill of the hunt and the kill will be satisfied and will only end when all are gone. The shrieks of their fear are like a sweet symphony. The screams of their pain, a song of love. The realization that what they believed a fairytale or legend is in fact a cold, hard, cruel joke, a sweet taste on my lips. Oh how I have dreamt of it and here I stand before it held in rapture of its presentation.
Like a gift to us, presented on the blank white canvas, the town full of life, unsuspecting life. I watch the lights of Barrow glow with welcoming warmth. The falling snow bringing what to the humans is considered preternatural, but to us is a welcoming silence. The silence before the storm.
One by one the very small comforts the citizens of Barrow have will be taken away until their blood flows fiercely through their veins. A silent surge of wanting. A calling to our kind.
We're coming, don't you worry. We're coming oh so soon and you'll only know when the light in your eyes fades into eternal darkness.
Don't pray. God can't hear you. Don't run God won't give you wings. Don't hide, God can't see you but we can.
Tammy, a citizen
Silence.
A cold, unwelcoming silence came with the snow tonight. I just saw the sun disappear behind the horizon. For 30 days it will hide away from us. Ignoring these towns above the Arctic Circle. The closest thing will see to sunlight is a dull glow on the horizon. A dawn that immediately turns to dusk in some strange dance of insanity or indecision.
This time of year, it's almost as if the sun and the world have forgotten about us. I should have left. I should have gone down to my aunt's in Fairbanks. Heck, Juneau would have been nice. Instead, I stayed here. Dammit, I'm a fool. Nothing to do but sit around and wait. Thirty uneventful days of night. Lovely.
Scott, a paranoid citizen:
Where's my damned cell phone. Dammit, I hope I didn't drop the wretched thing out in the snow.
Fu…. Auuugh. Forget it. I'm tired. It's almost time for dinner anyway. Hmmmm…. Hotdogs and beans. 30 days of this is sure to get my blood pressure soaring. When the wife gets back, I'll never hear the end of it.
Ha-ha. Good thing I keep a stock of beer hidden in the crawlspace. A little entertainment goes a long way….
What's happening:
First the phones disappear, and then the satellite signal seems to fade with the wind and the twilight.
Then the lights go out.
There is only darkness and wind. A strange and unsettling silence seems to ride on the back of the wind like the invisible spirit of Hades waiting to usher the dead to their eternal life. Chills run up and down the spines of countless citizens.
A scream pierces the night. A scream so shrill and so terrifying, so full of fear and pain. Who is it? Where did it come from? What follows makes every mortal soul in Barrow shudder in fear. A shriek of unknown origin, like that of a giant bird of prey, echoes down the frozen streets like the howl of a demon from hell. It sounds so cold, so grating that suddenly the frozen earth seems warm and inviting. The frigid wind, now feels like a warm Mediterranean breeze.
Warm bodies fall back from windows. Eyes search the darkness for comfort and safety. Minds search for understanding. Heartbeats race, their rhythms unheard by humans but pound in the ears of the shadows, calling out like beacons in the night sky. Breathing quickens and hands shake like fragile fall leaves in the wind.
Hell has come with the falling sun tonight and it wastes no time introducing itself.
Myriam watches the fun unfold:
Look at them run. Listen to them beg. The fear makes the blood taste sweeter. The thick, warm, salty fluid of life flowing from their wounds, weeping from the wounds like the bleeding "Rosa Mystica", it's all just too beautiful. I could almost weep tears of blood of my own from its overpowering sweetness, but first I must feed.
30 days of this... Ha... And they say there is no heaven for the damned.
She leaps down from her perch on a roof to join the mayhem.
Tammy watches the shadows creeping along the roofs:
Oh my god.
Our father, who art in heaven, hallow be thy… Oh, Jesus. The screams. Please, God, make it stop.
They're in the Johnson house next door! The girls. Oh, god I can hear them begging. No. No. No. Why!? They're only children.
Scratches and scrapes come from the roof above her.
No.
Tears stream down her face in glistening little trails. She bows her head in silence, grasping her bible in her hands and silently mouthing Hail Mary. A door bangs loudly against the wall downstairs. Heavy feet slowly step their way across the creaking wooden floor below.
Tammy's heart tries to leap from behind her ribs, almost as if it wants to flee the impending horror that she knows she will not be able to. She clutches the bible closer and silently prays faster as footsteps step lightly on the stairs down the hall.
Not like this. Not like this. I should have gone to Fairbanks.
BANG! The door to her room flies open. Her heartbeat must've given her away. It was beating so loudly. She curses her heart and calls out to God as she faces the intruder. In the dim light of the night and the lone candle in her room, all she can see are black eyes, strange black eyes and pointy teeth in an unnaturally large mouth.
She drops her bible and whimpers as the thing drawls closer, grabbing her and running a sharp nail down her alabaster face. Its rancid breath turning her stomach as it hisses in a perverse joy at her fear. A hiss that sounds like a drawn out "heeeeeyyy."
No. Please.
She holds her hand out to fend it off but instead the creature grabs it and pulls her in closer. She screams in terror and the thing joins her with a wicked howl. A duet of horror calling out into the night which is finished with a cruel, crackling laughter from the creature.
It bares its teeth and lunges at her neck biting down with crippling force.
It hurts. Oh, god, it hurts. It burns. Make it sto-o-o-p-p-p.
She only hears the gurgles of her own voice and breathing through her torn neck as the throws of death take hold. The last thing she sees is the thing standing back, admiring what it has done, a grin of pure evil spread across its hideous and deformed face. Then, the silence comes back. The searing pain numbs into nothingness as the darkness envelopes her.
…Pray for us sinners... now... in the hour of our deaths.
Scott in his house:
Scott stands at his kitchen door, a shotgun in his hand and a backpack full of weapons and beer slung over his shoulder. His hand is on the knob as he tries to gather his strength, will and courage.
25 feet. Just 25 feet to the shelter. Come on, Scott, you big baby. You built the thing for the millennium. You built it in case some crazy shit like this happened.
Hell, exactly what is this shit?
Another scream tears through the air. Someone close by begs for forgiveness then mercy. A shriek calls out then silence.
Scott throws the door open and rushes to his backyard. Sliding onto the door that covers his shelter, he pushes the snow away from its handle and pulls the latch, swinging the heavy door upward. He wastes no time and jumps inside, allowing the metal door to slam shut with a huge bang.
Shit, those crazy sonsabitches pro'lly heard that. Oh well.
He slides the latch into place and fastens the dogs on the door. Old merchant marine ship door was a good idea for the shelter; he silently pats himself on the back for thinking so when he built it so many summers ago. He turns on the battery powered light and looks around, taking a mental inventory of how much food he has. He only hopes that the food will last him until whatever that is outside goes away.
Through the cement walls of the shelter he hears nothing. Through the metal of the door, he can only hear the wind. A magnet covers the small, thick glass porthole on the door. He checks to make sure nothing can see in through the cracks.
Please let a storm come to cover up the door before whatever that is outside finds me. I swear God; I'll never be bad again. I'll try harder. I'll do whatever it takes to stay in your good graces. Just please let me survive this. Please.
In a house, somewhere in the middle of Barrow:
Myriam stands in a nursery, staring into the cradle at the small wriggling baby crying inside of it. The mother cries out begging. She turns to give the scared mother an empty stare and a smirk before pulling the child out of the cradle and bringing it up to her lips.
Hmmm… the innocent taste so much better. Cleaner, not yet tainted. I almost feel cleaner myself now. She drops the small body aside and smiles at the mother.
The mother wails in horror as she stares at the limp shape of her baby lying broken and still on the floor. The woman instinctively rushes forward towards her child, realizing a second too late that she has made herself vulnerable.
Myriam grabs the pajama clad woman by the hair and throws her down onto the floor by the body of the baby. A gasp escapes the woman's mouth as Myriam holds an unnaturally strong hand to her throat. With her other hand she grabs the woman's face and pushes it to face her child. The woman whimpers over and over a mumbled "why?" and "us."
Tired of the whimpering, Myriam attacks the woman with everything she has, draining her quickly. Just before she feels the heart falter, she pauses to see the look in the eyes of her victim fear, pain, and the torture of her soul. Myriam smiles again as she leans in and takes the last drop before the heart stops.
And this is just the appetizer.
Definitely heaven for the damned. No one can stop us. This is our world this night.
She leaves the house and steps out into the night, walking the street and joining the other shadows that are looking for more.