Read Online The Jersey Devil by Hunter Shea - Free Book Online Page A

“You’re being overdramatic.”
    Then he’d shake it off and resume, knowing that more drama equaled more views. And more views meant . . . well, it justified all of his efforts and gave him a little ego boost.
    He’d ventured off the trail so he could find a spot he could claim was where the kids shot the Devil. The forests out here all looked the same. No one would know, even those kids. Filming in night vision to make it creepier, he’d tell the kids’ story and hunker down to see if the beast made its return. There’d be a lot of editing that would need to be done, but he had the time. Maybe he’d make several versions. He could have a one-or two-minute teaser, a more robust five-minute video that gave all the nuts and bolts, and a full, half-hour video with music and everything.
    Rafael took a swig of water, set his backpack down and took out his tripod. He wanted some nice steady shots. That Blair Witch shaky cam stuff made him nauseous as a viewer. He didn’t want to subject his own viewers to the same fate.
    After he secured the camera to the tripod, he checked his phone.
    â€œNo bars. No shock.”
    Not that he had anyone to call. He wore his loner badge with pride. Making friends had never been easy. It was why he enjoyed his blog and social media interaction. That was easy. He had hundreds of online “friends.” What else did he need?
    Setting the camera to night-vision mode, he sat still and panned around the area.
    Need some good scenic shots for filler , he thought.
    The wind scattered the leaves on the ground, flitting around him.
    It was quiet out here. He’d never been big on the outdoors. The closest he’d gotten to camping was sleeping in his sleeping bag on the back porch once when he was ten.
    There wouldn’t be any sleep tonight. He didn’t have camping gear. This was all about capturing something that rang of authenticity.
    â€œCome on, critters, isn’t anyone curious?” he whispered. “Give me some eye shine so I can make people wonder if the Devil is near.”
    Any sound or image he captured tonight could be edited and presented in a way to make his viewers believe he’d had a close encounter with the Jersey Devil.
    He stiffened at the sound of scurrying behind him. Swinging the camera around, he searched for the source of the noise.
    â€œToo late for squirrels. Any raccoons out there?”
    Even with night vision, he couldn’t see any sign of life. Whatever it was must have been small and fast, like a chipmunk or something. Chipmunks were too tiny for even him to make seem larger and threatening in a video.
    Rafael’s stomach grumbled. He went to his backpack, searching for the energy bars he’d stashed in a side pocket. They were mixed among warm cans of Red Bull. He found a bar, threw the wrapper on the ground and ate it in two bites. It was dense and sticky and tasted like peanut butter-flavored straw, but it would kill his hunger pangs.
    I should get onscreen and talk about the shooting. Maybe I should read the article again so I don’t have to do a million takes.
    Using his phone as a flashlight, he plucked the folded newspaper article from his jeans pocket, reading it over a couple of times, memorizing key parts in the story.
    The frenetic sound of flapping wings overhead had him ducking faster than a frightened deer mouse, even though he could tell the flyby was nowhere near his head.
    â€œBats. Nice.”
    Now that was atmosphere!
    â€œI should have gone to film school.” He downed a Red Bull, crushed the can and chucked it into the darkness.
    He liked the way the pine trees were bunched together to his right. They looked ominous, like a haunted wood that swallowed up curious little children. Swiveling the camera, he paused when he heard something move. It was quick, seeming to stop the moment he became aware of its presence.
    The forest suddenly felt darker, the realization that