The night has always been a source of great inspiration to the writer and poet alike. Something about the natural stillness of it that resonates within the cracks and crevices of all that is bright and glowing is that which has long been admired and pondered on by the common man and the great thinker alike.


The night is a perfect time to meddle; to tamper with evidence; and to formulate and plan against enemy and friend alike; for the cover and cloak of anonymity it naturally provides all with gives the innocent rest and the wicked protection so as to plot against those in quiet and peaceful slumber; and to prevent them from sleeping in peace ever again.


In the darkness of the night; secrets are slowly brewed, distilled and dispensed, like little vials of seemingly innocent poison, sealed and stoppered to be used against the very brewers by whose hands they were concocted.


Watch now, how, as night dawns on Sunset Valley, those who feel that peace and satisfaction lie only in ruining that of others, achieve their twisted ways with the help of their one greatest ally; The Night.

Secrets Whispered Into The Night…


Newton Alto was on an unexpected high. He had, with great difficulty, finally set up the rival business he so longed to begin for many years, right in the heart of Sunset Valley. The best part? Business was booming. Now that the novelty of a new brand name with a famous CEO at it’s head had worn off, Landgraab Industries was not all that it had cracked up to be.

Prices were exorbitant and price rises, frequent; the quality of goods was acceptable but not extraordinarily so; and for all the money that the people paid, what they got back was very limited in deed. The Altos’ new business, however small and simple, was fair and honest, and shoppers looked to their products instead for fairer pricing and better quality.


The pride and joy Newton was filled with was inexpressible. The simple truth that, bit by bit, he was beating and breaking the town’s monopoly, and in turn, Queenie’s hold over it brought him immense joy and satisfaction. It was something that was unthinkable earlier and Newton had every right to revel in this new found joy.

But right now, that wasn’t all that was going on in his mind. Something was vaguely different about his son these days; something he just couldn’t put his finger on. Nick was behaving more responsible and mature than he ever had, and the way he conducted and held himself had changed drastically in the last couple of weeks.


He was happy, because maybe his little Nicky was finally growing up.

At the same time; Newton had found and discovered a piece of information that brought him immense happiness, and not to mention possible great future profits. Because he was sure that this time, he had found something that even Queenie Landgraab; with all her contacts and networks had no knowledge of; something that was purely his own information; a lamp hidden under a bed; and this time, he was going to beat her to it.

He would capitalize on this knowledge and he knew that if he was successful, the gains would be tremendous in future.


Quietly, he walked out of the front door without wanting to wake his sleeping wife and son. He would go; do what he had to and return home without anyone being the wiser, because in case he failed, Queenie did not need to know what he knew. Her methods of coaxing could be much more persuasive than whatever he had to offer the person in question, and if he did not acquire his gem, he would prefer it lost in the dust than in her hands.


Meanwhile, the person who Newton Alto feared most, the most dreaded, despised Queenie Landgraab was not at home, plotting and scheming, as many expected her to do; on the contrary, she was on the roads, taking a quiet, solitary walk with only the moonlight for companionship.

She walked with shoulders downturned, head bent and brow furrowed; and not one person save a family member would recognize her with her hair unkempt and sans make up. Most prominently, the lack of the familiar glinting eyes and curved smile made one wonder how this person could be the same woman she was in office.

Queenie, however many would like to deny it, was a human being, with the same needs, aspirations and hopes as many others. She felt the need to survive and stay a cut above the rest because of the natural insecurities that had always plagued her.

Maintaining her ice cold, diamond like demeanor to the world and allowing no one to challenge her capabilities and authority permitted her to mask the in depth workings of her mind to everyone around; just as a stage performer’s true persona is never exuded from beneath the mask; because she knew and dreaded her short comings more than anyone else could or ever would.


She stopped walking as she thought about all that was, had been, and what would be. For once, her mind was not on the office or at work; the calculations, the incomes, the expenditures, her employees’ performance, not on graphs…but on family.

Chester was gone. Apparently some old friends were meeting up out of town and he had to leave at the last minute. The relationship they lead was monotonous and dull; lacking in even the most basic physical intimacies that any married couple shared. He did not bother telling her when he’d be back and they had not even shared a parting smile; for he told her of his imminent departure through phone.

Queenie really did not have anyone else to blame but herself. Her own sense of self-doubt and insecurity lead her to aim for the highest levels achievable at work and as a result, she had done what she always hoped not to do: fail in parenting and as a good spouse to her husband, the man she married for love.


She buried her face in her hands. She had tried hard to fight the battle that raged within herself but somehow, she could never do it. Chester was never supportive or understanding enough. Sometimes, she wondered why he had even asked her to marry him in the first place.


She sighed as she walked onwards, though her feet dragged on a little more and her breathing came along a little shorter. As she turned the bend and walked past Sylvester Thompson’s house, she was shocked to see the lights still on at this hour, and even more shocked to find Newton Alto’s car parked in the driveway.

She frowned as she stood thinking. As far as she knew, these two had no business collaborating in the middle of the night together. Till today, few had even seen Sylvester Thompson’s face in Sunset Valley, and Newton had never even expressed any interest in him before.


She sighed. She was drained and tired after a long day and she had taken this walk to spend some time with herself; mulling over her thoughts. At this point, she couldn’t care less about any political machinations taking place in and around town. Suddenly feeling very weary, she turned on her heel and walked back the way home.


Victor Goth stood waiting impatiently for his client behind City Hall. The call he received was urgent and desperate, and he knew he would receive a good amount of money for all the services he would provide her with.


Finally, after what seemed like ages, Denise Masters came walking up the disheveled path, to their by now familiar meeting spot. ‘On time, as usual, Denise?,’ he greeted her sarcastically. ‘Enough with your witty criticisms, Victor. You know by now that being fashionably late is something I excel at.’

‘Forget the pleasantries. Do you have what I’ve taken all this trouble to arrange this meeting for?,’ Victor asked her seriously. ‘Oh, I do, Victor, I most certainly do. Here is your money,’ she said as she passed him a heavy purse full of crisp simoleons, which he duly opened and checked before putting away in his suit pocket. ‘Just to reconfirm; this will guarantee that the agreement between our party and you stands? We will have your weight for the passing of our bill? When parliament reopens this summer?’


‘Oh, you leave all that to me, Denise, your job here is done. Rest assured that I will do mine. Politics is not an easy game to play, under most normal circumstances, but when a little extra ‘push’ is concerned…..’ He rattled the purse which she had just passed him as the coins clinked together merrily. ‘Agreed,’ she replied. ‘ I have to leave now, I have some business to attend to elsewhere. We’ll stay in touch.’ ‘What on earth would you have to be doing at this time of the night, Masters?,’ he scoffed at her.

‘Oh, a concert or two, some banks to rob, and let’s not forget, I have to walk the dog,’ she replied before turning around and stalking off. ‘And you call me sarcastic,’ he chuckled to her retreating back before he started to walk away.




Pietroff grinned to himself, as he waited for the revving of two smooth, expensive engines to rumble into the distance before getting up from his crouch and flipping his phone open. He had taken a great risk doing what he did today, but he was sure his employer would pay him finely for it.

‘Pietroff, what do you do with all the money I give you? For God’s sake, buy a watch; look at the time, it’s past midnight!,’ said an angry voice on the other side.


‘Trust me, Mrs. Crumplebottom; when I’m done with what I’ve gotta say, you’re gonna have to offer me a pay rise,’ he said with a sinister chuckle.


As Victor quietly made his way home, submerged in his own thoughts, and thrilled by the large sum of money he had received for such a seemingly simple task, he decided to take a joy ride around town, simply for the pleasure of roaming around in the quiet, still, chilly night.

All the members of Sunset Valley were fast asleep, lost in their own personal dream worlds, lulled into a sense of security and assurance. Victor did not expect anyone to be awake at this hour; and the town lay quiet in the stillness of the cool night air.

He looked around at the town he and his family had founded and built up with pride. So what if he took a little extra cut off the meat for himself? He deserved it, for all that he endeavored and all that he had given Sunset. It was almost his right.


As he cruised around town, finally heading in the direction for home, he noticed a glinting light in the distance. His curiosity aroused, he directed the smooth, expensive steering with ease towards it.

He was perplexed when he realized that the light came from none other than Sylvester Thompson’s house. Unable to contain himself, he wondered what could keep the old timer up this late at night. He parked his car right there in the middle of the road, not concerned about blocking any traffic at this time and got out.



He knocked on the front door, once, then twice. When he received no reply at all, and no noise escaped from the house into the quiet calm of the night, he went to the window and cautiously peered through them, into the cheap and poorly furnished home.

Nothing within looked out of place, except a pool of dark liquid on the floor, which he couldn’t quite see properly due to the dim lighting. However, Victor, felt goose bumps prickle his flesh. Something wasn’t right here, something he just couldn’t put his finger on.

‘Mr. Thompson?,’ he called out quietly, not wanting to disturb the quiet, restful solace that the other people were in. ‘Hello? Is everything alright in there?’


Victor turned away from the door to think. In case of emergencies, due to the post of Mayor that he occupied in Sunset Valley, Victor possessed a Master Key that would unlock all front doors of any of the houses in town. He knew that it might come under an invasion of privacy, but he felt that what he was about to do could pass as concern for one of his fellow members. With this self- reassurance, he made up his mind.

He turned back to the door and unlocked it, cautiously entering the house. There was not a noise or a scarper in and around the place; it looked plain and dead, with nothing but the barest and cheapest furnishings around the tiny living room and attached kitchen.

He heard a steady dripping sound in the corner, and the sickly sweet smell of cloying blood. Then, his eyes turned to the corner of the room.
What he saw there made him scream in horror and fall back.




His stomach turned and his breath caught; he whipped around, stumbled and ran out of the front door; falling to the floor and retching. He heard a quick metallic clink, a whispered curse and the sound of heavy thumping feet behind him. He knew that if he lay where he was, paralyzed by shock and terror, he would be forfeiting his life to the sinister presence that occupied the house.

He got up and ran, opening the door of his car and driving, horror freezing his face; his mouth remained open and wide, a silent scream of horror that seemed to have no end. He could not hear any noise behind him at all; and nothing disturbed the dark night, save the thumping of his heart, which, filled up the entire emptiness around him. He drove on and on and when he reached his home, and finally stopped the car; collapsed against the steering wheel and fell into a stupor.


He didn’t know how long he lay there, but finally when some strength returned to him, he rose shakily and stood out of the car. He looked all around him, his eyes trying their level best to penetrate the darkness, in search of something, anything that moved, but nothing save the quiet chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs made any sound at all.


Victor Goth was afraid. He was afraid to move. He knew that he was in danger, danger of the most terrible kind. He was afraid for his life. And he knew who he should fear. But he did not possess the courage to do anything about it.






THE NEXT MORNING….


Most Sunset citizens, as they woke up that morning did not think anything had changed in the slightest. Their daily rituals remained unmoved; their pattern did not vary from any other ordinary day. Their expectations for the new rising dawn were as simple and limited as they always had been since the last day. Little did they know, that this morning, all their lives were about to change forever…..


However, they were not to know this until just before breakfast, where all the television sets were turned to The Sunset News...


‘Oh my God…’


‘No, no, this can’t be happening….’


‘Not here, not in Sunset….’


"The police were contacted early this morning…."




‘Alerted by the alleged crime….’


'They've found him...'

'OF THE MURDER OF SYLVESTER THOMPSON IN SUNSET VALLEY.'