Chapter 1: The Midnight Guests
October 17th had finally arrived. For Mathew, it was the most anticipated day of the year: his birthday.
As the clock struck midnight, his friends staged a perfect surprise. They burst into his house, cheering and carrying a glowing birthday cake. The surprise was a success; Mathew was overwhelmed with joy, his face lighting up as he blew out the candles. The house was filled with music, laughter, and the warmth of friendship.
The celebration carried on deep into the night, finally winding down around 2:30 AM. One by one, his friends handed over their gifts, offered their final congratulations, and headed home.
The house was a mess—a battlefield of wrapping paper, crumbs, and empty glasses. Rather than leaving it for the morning, Mathew and his parents decided to clean up immediately. They split up to cover more ground: Mathew took the bedroom, his father started on the drawing-room, and his mother headed to the kitchen.
While his mother was scrubbing the counters, she suddenly froze. Her ears perked up, and she cocked her head to the side.
"What was that?" she whispered to herself.
Through the silence of the house, she heard a distinct, rhythmic sound coming from outside. It was the gurgle of water pouring onto the concrete. Realizing a tap must have been left running, she opened the kitchen door and stepped out into the cool night air.
The tap was indeed leaking, splashing onto the floor. As she reached out to turn the handle, a shadow detached itself from the darkness.
A man wearing a thick black mask surged forward. Before she could react, he swung a heavy iron rod. The blow caught her squarely on the head. With only a muffled, stifled scream, she collapsed, her blood beginning to pool on the pavement as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Inside, Mathew’s father heard that tiny, sharp cry. He hurried outside to investigate, but he never stood a chance. He was met with the same cold iron rod and taken down instantly.
There were more than one of them. They were a team—masked, gloved, and wearing black shoes. Every detail of their gear was chosen to ensure the police would find no fingerprints or footprints during an investigation. They were professionals.
The attackers poured into the house. In the hallway, they came face-to-face with Mathew. Before he could even process the horror, one of the intruders grabbed a ceramic flower vase from a nearby stand. He smashed it over Mathew’s head with brutal force. Mathew slumped to the floor, the world turning black.
At 3:30 AM, the silence was broken by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. David and George, two of Mathew's friends, had returned. David had realized he’d left his phone behind and didn't want to wait until morning to get it.
They found the front door standing wide open.
"Mathew?" David called out, stepping inside.
They stopped dead. Mathew was lying in the center of the room, his body bathed in blood. They rushed to his side, frantic, calling his name and shaking him, but there was no response.
Suddenly, a floorboard creaked in the bedroom.
"Who’s there?" David demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and rage.
Five tall, dark figures emerged from the shadows of the room. They moved with a chilling synchronization. Thinking fast, David grabbed a jagged piece of the broken flower vase from the floor. He lunged at the nearest man, managed to catch him with a desperate strike, and left a deep scratch across the attacker's arm.
But it wasn't enough. The attackers kicked David and George back with calculated violence. Instead of staying to fight, the five figures bolted out the door. David and George scrambled after them, catching only a glimpse of a car idling at the curb. The attackers piled in and the tires screeched as they sped away into the night.
Trembling, David reached into his pocket for the phone he had come back for. With shaking fingers, he dialed the police, while George grabbed his own and screamed for an ambulance.
The birthday was over. The nightmare had just begun.
