

Blood Moon Rising 2:

Into Darkness

© 2016 S. K. Gregory– Blood Moon Inc.

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© 2016 M. L. Sparrow – Flames

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© 2016 Michael Noe – Healing Waters

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© 2016 Kat Gracey - Superstitious

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© 2016 Roma Gray – Black Shadows Under A Blood Moon

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© 2016 K.A Denver – The Grimoire Prophecies

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© 2016 Ash Hartwell – The Curse of Survival

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© 2016 Richard Schiver – By the Light of the Blood Moon

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© 2016 Donald Armfield – Calendar Curse

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Blood Moon Rising 2

Into Darkness

What lies in the dark, could spell your doom,

The evil that lurks under the blood red moon,

You can't escape it, no matter how fast you run,

Try as you might you won't live to see the sun,

So accept your fate, as awful as it may be,

The red tainted moon is the last thing you will see

Blood Moon Inc.

By S.K. Gregory

Blood Moon Inc.

That's what it said on the side of the crate. A strange name for a company, but especially one that specialised in supplying alcohol to clubs.

I considered the logo, remembering the first time I saw it, that night in the club, it was printed on the side of a keg and on the invoice I was handed by a blank faced delivery guy. A blurry, red half circle and the words Blood Moon Inc. printed in bold black letters underneath.

I scribbled a signature, too busy worrying about my fight with Tia to really look closely at it. Tia and I had been dating for five months, but we worked together at the club, Passion, for nearly a year. Before that, we went to high school together. We had run in the same circles for a long time, but never really spent much time alone. Until the stock check, where Mickey left us alone to count cocktail umbrellas while he disappeared with some redhead. If he ever found out what we did on his desk, he'd kill us.

Tia was amazing and I didn't deserve someone so funny and smart, who could kick my ass if she wanted. Not that it would take much.

At six foot one, with some well-defined muscles, thanks to all the carrying I do, the other staff at the club often look to me to break up fights, or throw out rowdy customers. The truth is I have no idea how to handle myself. I can't even throw a punch. Tia on the other hand, all five foot four, of her is fully capable of handling herself. She is trained in aikido and I've seen her take down guys twice her size. They don't see it coming with her elfin features and doe eyes. That's why it's so entertaining.

The fight happened because Tia was trying to convince me to go back to college. I dropped out two years ago and had no intention of going back, but Tia believed I was making a mistake and that I couldn't possibly want to be a bartender for the rest of my life.

I don't think about the rest of my life, or at least I didn't, I preferred to live in the here and now. Now though, after what happened, I seriously wondered if I even have a future.

Don't think like that. Tia needs you.

Stepping around the crate, I jogged over to the truck and ducked behind it. The truck bore the same logo. It was one of three, parked twenty feet from a warehouse. This was the place, their headquarters. Somewhere inside was Tia.

When the alcohol had arrived at the club, I unloaded it and didn't think twice. Because it was a new company, they were running a special promotion. They had supplied us with several bottles of their new drink – Sanguine. It came in an orange colored bottle and we were to offer the customers one free shot each.

I opened one of the bottles and took a sniff. I recoiled at the smell, it was coppery and tangy, not something I would ever choose to drink. I prefer beer, but I know our usual patrons weren't that discerning.

Tia brushed past me and grabbed some glasses from the shelf.

"Are you just going to ignore me, all night?" I asked.

"I'm working James. Get those new drinks set up," she said.

I could tell from her tone that she was still pissed off. I needed her to talk to me again, how would I ask her the question I'd been wanting to ask for a week, if she didn't?

As she brushed by me again, I could smell the perfume she always wore, something with vanilla.

I set up the shot glasses, ready to pour shots of Sanguine. The first ones to try it, were a group of girls on a hen night. I set up five glasses and they all drank them at the same time. All five of them pulled faces.

"That's disgusting," one of them said.

"Yeah, no wonder it's free," another said.

They moved off to the dance floor. I poured a shot and smelled it again. How bad was this stuff? Maybe it was a bad batch. I was about to knock it back when someone pinched my butt. I turned, expecting to find Tia, but instead I found Derrick, the other barman.

He laughed at the look on my face, "Thought I was Tia, didn't you?"

I scowled at him, "No, I've always known that you have the hots for me."

Derrick flipped me off, "You know, now that Tia is single, maybe I'll ask her out."

"Go for it, it will be funny to see her break your jaw for asking. And she's not single, we had a fight."

"Wait until I work my charm on her," he said. He snatched the shot from my hand and downed it.

"Urgh," he said. "That is vile."

I hoped it choked him. Derrick was always trying to flirt with Tia, but she couldn't stand him.

She was across the club, collecting glasses. As she turned toward the bar, I smiled at her. She smiled back, then remembered she was mad at me and lost the smile. I was wearing her down.

An hour passed, the club was pumping and we quickly ran out of the Sanguine. I headed back to the store to grab some more. I flicked the switch on the wall, but the light stayed off. I knew my way, so I shuffled forward in the dark.

As I loaded up on bottles, I sensed someone come up behind me.

"I told you Derrick, you're not my type. I'm not making out with you," I joked. I looked over my shoulder at an empty room.

I could have sworn there was someone else here. Setting the bottles down, I moved to the door and looked out at the hall. This area was off limits to the customers. Apart from the store room, there was the locker room, staff restroom and Mickey's office. I heard a thump and someone swearing in Mickey's office. I didn't realise he was here, although sometimes he would sneak in the back.

I knocked on his door, "Mickey? You in there?"

I heard a grunt in reply and opened the door. Mickey was slumped behind his desk, a half empty bottle of Sanguine beside him.

"What's up?" I asked.

"She left me," he muttered.

"Who? Carmella?"

She was the redhead. Mickey ran a hand through his brown hair that he wore to his shoulder. He was dressed in one of his pimp suits, as I liked to call them. He liked to stand out. It made him look like a seventies drug dealer.

"She left," he slurred. "I was kind enough to help her shift this crap, and she still left."

He poured himself another glass of the Sanguine.

"She works for the company?" I asked.

Mickey drained the glass, "She's in PR or something."

"Bright side? The stuff is awful, so I doubt they'll be getting many orders."

"Hmm," Mickey murmured. His eyes were bloodshot and he could barely stay awake.

"Maybe you should..."

His head slumped down onto the table before I could finish. I left him to sleep it off.

When I came back to check on him, half an hour later, he was gone. I hoped he hadn't tried to drive.

I hurried to the restroom, eager to get back to the bar before it got too busy. Before I could open the door, Tia called my name.

"Come to yell at me again," I said.

Her expression softened, "No, I can't do this anymore."

I felt a sharp pain in my chest, "Oh God, you're dumping me?"

Her eyes widened, "What? No, you idiot. I meant I don't want to fight anymore."

I slumped against the wall, "Oh, thank God."

She smiled at me, "You're such a dope."

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed me. I pulled her against me, so relieved that she still wanted to be with me.

"Come over tonight. I want to talk to you about something," I said.

"Talk? Or talk?" She teased.

"No, I really do want to talk. And then we can do other stuff."

She kissed me again, "Can't wait."

I watched her walk away, enjoying the view. Yes, I was one lucky guy. Right then, I was on top of the world and nothing could ruin that, until I opened the restroom door.

When I first saw Mickey, on the floor by one of the stalls, I thought he was throwing up on the floor. It wasn't until I moved closer that I saw her. Becky, one of our waitresses, was staring at me from the floor. Her eyes were blank and her face was flecked with blood. It took me a minute to realise that she was dead. And that Mickey appeared to be biting into her.

"What the fuck?" I gasped.

Mickey's head whipped round to look at me. His mouth was smeared with blood and now that he had moved, I could see Becky properly. Her torso had been ripped open and I could see her insides.

Gagging, I staggered back and fell against the door.

"Mickey, what the fuck man? What the fuck did you do?" I said. This couldn't be happening.

Mickey got to his feet, no recognition in his eyes, he took a step toward me. A voice in my head screamed at me, Get out. Get out now.

I grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open. Stumbling out of the room, I felt the bile rise in my throat. I stopped long enough to throw up on the floor, before I ran back to the bar.

There was a phone behind the bar, I needed to call the police and an ambulance, although I didn't think it would be of any use. I was so wrapped up in getting to the phone that I failed to notice the situation on the dance floor. The music was still playing, but no one was dancing to it. They were all gathered around a woman, a member of the hen party, lying on the ground.

"James, call an ambulance," Tia said.

"I'm calling them. He's lost it," I muttered.

"Who has lost it?" she asked.

I finally looked up and took in the scene, "What's going on?"

Tia gave me an exasperated look, "That woman collapsed. She needs an ambulance now."

Nodding, I reached for the phone. As my hand closed around it, someone screamed.

Behind me, the woman on the floor was up and had launched herself at a man nearby. She sank her teeth into his cheek and he screamed in pain. She ripped a chunk of flesh free and spat it onto the floor, still clinging to him. She was sprayed with his blood and I felt my stomach turn, as she grinned and lapped it up.

"James! Call the police," Tia snapped, before she marched toward the woman and her victim.

"Right," I muttered, looking at the phone, my mind a blank. Finally it came back to me and I punched in the three numbers that would connect me to the emergency services.

Just as an operator spoke, the line went dead. I looked up to see Mickey, holding a frayed wire in his hand. He waved it at me and grinned broadly to reveal a row of pointed teeth.

"Bitch!"

I turned to see Tia flying over a table and onto the ground.

"Tia," I cried, rushing forward.

Mickey blocked my path, "Don't think so, buddy. I'm hungry and you smell delicious."

"You didn't fill up on cocktail waitress then?" I said. It was a stupid thing to say, but it just came out.

Mickey closed in on me and grabbed the front of my shirt. His breath was rancid and I tried to turn away from him.

"You know maybe your girlfriend would taste even better."

The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air. I collided with the shelves, my head striking something and everything went black.

My next conscious thought was: the Sanguine. That damn drink did this.

I was on the floor, lying amongst the broken glass, behind the bar. My head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. There was a sharp pain between my shoulder blades and I could barely move.

"James."

I forced my eyes open to see Tia. She had a black eye and a scrape along her cheek, but she was alive.

"Can you move?" She whispered.

"No," I croaked. I noticed that the music had stopped and everything appeared quiet.

"What's going on?" I managed to choke out.

"They've retreated for now. So many people are dead. We need to go."

As she tried to lever me up, I grabbed her arm, "It was the alcohol."

"What was?"

"The Sanguine. Tell me you didn't drink any of it," I said.

Her eyes widened and I could see that they were bloodshot, she was also very pale. She lost her grip and I slipped to the floor again.

"Oh God," she whispered, crouching down beside me.

"Tia, you need to get to a hospital or something. You need to..."

Her head whipped up and she looked down the bar. She tilted her head back and sniffed the air.

"Tia?"

Slowly, she turned back to me and for a moment, I saw it. Whatever was happening to them, changing them, I saw a glimpse of it on her face. A feral expression, that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

I reached out and clasped her hand, "Stay with me, Tia. You have to fight this."

She tried to give me a reassuring smile, but she was as terrified as I was.

"Let's get out of here and to the hospital. They'll know what to do," she said.

She hauled me to my feet, causing me to groan in pain. She reached up and tugged something free from my back, a glass shard, four inches long.

"You need to get that looked at," Tia said. She glanced down at her hand and froze. It was streaked red with blood. I watched as she lifted it toward her mouth.

"Tia," I said, placing my hand over hers.

She took a few shaky breaths, "I'm fine."

I wiped the blood off onto my own hand. We didn't have much time.

She put my arm around her shoulders and helped me out from behind the bar. The dance floor was soaked in blood, bodies lay around the room and in the dark corners, glowing eyes watched us. It was them, the ones who had turned. They were still here.

"Shit, Tia, why aren't they attacking us?"

"I don't know, keep moving," she urged.

Bit by bit, they seemed to catch our scent and started to crawl forward out of the dark. Most of their faces were smeared in blood, sharp little teeth filled their mouths. As they moved, they would swing their leg forward over their arms as they crawled, like weird contortionists. It was a horrific sight.

They were closing in on us and I couldn't run.

"Get out of here," I said.

"Not without you. Don't pull that hero bullshit on me. If I have to, I'll carry you out," Tia replied.

They skittered out, blocking our path to the door.

"Tia," I whispered, pulling her against me, knowing there was no way out.

She clung to me, "James..." She looked up at me, "I lo..."

Her eyes went blank as a strange melody filled the air. It was coming from outside. All around us, the creatures rose to their feet and began to fill out of the club.

"Do you see that? It's like they're hypnotized."

Tia took a step forward and followed them toward the door.

"Tia, what are you doing?" I cried, trying to pull her back.

She shook me off and continued walking. A few of them bumped into me from behind and I stumbled.

When I righted myself, I saw Tia disappear out the door. Determined to reach her, I started pushing my way through them. They didn't seem to notice me, they were intent on following the music.

When I reached the sidewalk outside, they were all getting into the back of a truck.

"Tia! Tia!" I screamed, trying to get to her. As I got close to the truck, someone appeared from the side of it and punched me in the face. I went down, falling into the gutter. Right before I lost consciousness, I saw the logo on the side of the truck. Blood Moon Inc.

*

That was five days ago. Someone found me unconscious and I was taken to the hospital with a concussion. When I woke up, I immediately discharged myself and made my way back to the club. It had been burned to the ground, along with all the evidence.

I spent days searching for the company headquarters, most of it led to a dead end, fake addresses, websites and their 'headquarters' was in fact a bakery in Modesto.

I called in a few favours from a friend and that was how I found out their real headquarters. This warehouse was where Tia was being held. I was sure of it.

I had no idea what condition I would find her in, but I couldn't walk away, not if there was a chance of saving her. What happened to them, could have been temporary. Tia could be trapped inside, scared and alone.

Checking my jacket, I pull out the long wooden stake. Maybe I'm nuts, but after what I saw in the club, I'm not going to dismiss the possibility that those things are vampires. I also have a knife tucked into my waistband and a bottle of holy water in my left jacket pocket.

Please don't let the movies be full of shit. Let me find her and get her out safely.

There was no putting it off any longer. Sneaking up to the door, I took a quick peek inside.

It was quiet, but it had to be guarded. I moved inside, stake at the ready. It looked like an ordinary warehouse. I could see crates lining the length of the building and stamped on the side was the word, Sanguine. There had to be thousands of bottles of the stuff. Were they planning on distributing it across the country? How many more of those things would be unleashed, and how many more people would die?

Hesitating, I opened a crate and lifted out a bottle. Popping the top, I tore off a piece of my shirt and wedged it down into the bottle. The only way to stop this would be to burn this whole building down and destroy all the Sanguine. I left the bottle tucked out of sight, I would return once I found Tia.

I reached the end of the warehouse to find only a wall. They weren't here. I looked around, starting to panic. She had to be here, they were taken in one of the trucks from outside.

Oh, God, what if they killed her?

That thought filled me with dread. I should have done something more, I should have protected her.

In anger, I turned and punched the wall. When my hand went through it, I realized that it wasn't a real wall. In fact, the warehouse was far too short on the inside. I followed the wall along and discovered a hidden panel.

I heard footsteps heading my way and quickly ducked inside. Closing the panel behind me, I waited to see if I'd been made. My breath sounded unnaturally loud.

After a few minutes, I back away from the door. The room is dimly lit by green lights, as I look around the room I see where they are coming from.

Sixteen glass capsules lined the room. Inside were the club goers in a deep sleep. I scanned the faces, looking for Tia.

She was in the capsule at the end. I looked for a latch to open it, but I couldn't find one. I could smash the glass, but that would only draw attention and I didn't want to risk hurting her. Her eyes were closed and I could see her chest moving up and down. She was alive at least.

I discovered a cable running from the back of the capsule into the wall. It was powering it. Not knowing what else to do, I wrenched it free. The light went out in the capsule and the lid rose up.

"Tia," I whispered.

She opened her eyes and started gasping for air.

"It's okay, just breathe, it's me, James."

"James," she whispered. Her irises were ringed in blood, but she didn't have the teeth like the others.

"We need to get out of here," I said, helping her to her feet.

She looked around in confusion, leaning on me as we walked to the door. I'd never seen her looking so fragile before.

"How long have I been here?" She asked.

"Five days," I admitted, "I'm so sorry, I've been trying to find this place the whole time."

"It's fine. Thank you for coming for me," she said.

"Like I'd leave you here."

Checking the coast was clear, I helped Tia back toward the exit.

"Wait here," I said.

"Why, what are you doing?" She whispered.

"I'm going to blow this place sky high," I said.

"But what about the other people?" She asked.

"Tia, they're not human anymore. They've murdered people."

"And what about me?" She protested,

"You didn't kill anyone. It's probably why you are still you. I'm going to get you help."

I hurried back to the bottle and pulled out my lighter. Setting the rag on fire, I put it back into the crate and rushed back to Tia. Before I could reach her, I was tackled to the floor.

One of those things, this one dressed in a security guard uniform, tried to take a chunk out of my neck. I couldn't get the stake to his chest, so I used it to hold him back.

Tia lashed out with her foot and kicked him in the face. He fell back and I lunged forward with the stake, driving it into his chest.

He looked at the stake, then up at me, "A wooden stake? Welcome to the real world."

He wrapped his hand around it and ripped it free. He got to his feet and I had no idea what to do. I looked to Tia, but she could barely stand.

The bottle exploded behind us, setting the crate on fire. The bottles inside began to explode in the heat.

"What have you done!" The guard screamed.

I remembered my knife and as he went in for the kill, I drove it into his eye. His legs gave out and he fell to the floor, dead.

The fire was spreading fast.

Grabbing Tia, I led her outside. We both started choking on the smoke. Something exploded behind us and I was hit by some debris. A piece of wood caught me in the ear, slicing it open.

We took shelter behind one of the trucks, which was lying open and I could see more crates inside it. I needed to destroy them too.

"You're bleeding," Tia said. She reached out a finger and touched the trail of blood running down my check. Before she could taste it, I grabbed her hand.

"No! If you don't feed then maybe you'll stay you," I said.

"I'm so hungry, James. Please just let me have a taste."

She tried to lick my face and I had to shove her to get her off me. She growled and launched herself at me.

I jumped up onto the truck, out of her way. She got up too and cornered me at the back.

"Tia, stop. This isn't you."

But I didn't think she could hear me, she looked feral and she wanted my blood. I grabbed a bottle of the Sanguine from an open crate and hurled it in her direction as a warning. It smashed at her feet. I threw another.

She stopped and sniffed the air again. She knelt down and began to lap the Sanguine off the floor.

"Don't," I said.

When she looked up at me again, she looked normal.

"James?" she wiped at her mouth, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"When I drank the Sanguine, I felt in control again."

"You mean, it can keep you normal?"

"I don't know. But the others drank blood and they went completely feral."

I helped her out of the truck and into the cab. If the Sanguine helped, then we would take it with us. Plus anyone looking for a cure would need a sample of it. I found the keys in the ignition and I drove us away from the factory before the emergency services arrived.

Tia sat with her head against the window, staring out into the night. I would find a way to save her. I had to.

Flames

By M. L. Sparrow

What am I doing here? She thought, not for the first time, as she walked along the empty corridor, her trainers leaving prints in the thick layer of dust that coated the floor. Thinking about it, her reasons seemed stupid now; the once beautiful, Victorian school atop the hill, had looked so lonely from her bedroom window. The joy it had once brought to the village, nestled in the valley below, forgotten, as it was left to rot and waste away, with only the ivy invading its walls for company.

In a way, the school house was just like her. Alone. Unwanted.

Abandoned by her father before she was even born, her mother had never truly cared either, a fact which had been made obvious a few months ago when she ran off with a Spanish guy, half her age, leaving her daughter in the "capable" hands of her grandmother. Granny was a portly old woman, with hair on her chin but little on her head, who complained constantly and wanted a carer, not a granddaughter.

A creaky floorboard broke her train of thought, causing her heart to lurch and a ragged gasp to escape. Musky air rushed into her lungs, settling there, heavy and choking. In her chest, her heart beat violently against her ribcage as she was reminded of a horror film she'd watched once, except she wasn't blond, a cheerleader, or being chased by flesh eating zombies.

With one hand clutching at her throat, she blew out a breath to steady her nerves, before carrying on.

Only a little further on, her foot slipped on something and she went down, landing hard on her tail-bone. For a moment, her vision blurred and the agony in her back brought tears to her eyes.

Panting, swearing under her breath, she waited for the pain to pass, before attempting to scramble back to her feet, but the slippery substance on the floor made it difficult to get a grip. It was greasy, with a strong, bitter, headache inducing smell, which niggled at the back of her mind.

Where had she smelt it before?

It came to her in a rush and she immediately panicked, using the wall to pull herself up and away. The whole place stank like a gas-station; the floor was soaked in petrol.

Arson, she realized as she heard voices at the other end of the corridor.

"Did you do the classrooms?" a male voice asked – deep, but still with the awkward hitch of adolescence.

"Yep." Barely contained excitement in the other voice, a reckless desire to destroy. "Let's light this baby up!"

It was too dark to see anything from this end of the corridor, but there weren't many teenagers in town and she was willing to bet they were people she knew, maybe boys that were in her class at school, perhaps she'd even hung out with them on occasion.

She opened her mouth to call out, to tell them she was here, to tell them to wait for her to get out too, but it was too late, she could hear their footsteps tramping away down the old hallway, the achy groan of a door opening.

Stumbling back along the corridor, she threw herself at the door. It wouldn't open. Yanking at the handle, she sobbed in desperation, banging at it with her fists. Why wouldn't it open? She'd come in through this door mere minutes ago.

Hands shaking, she pulled her mobile out of her back pocket only to find the screen smashed beyond recognition. She must have landed on it when she fell. Stabbing at the screen with her fingers, she willed it to work, but the device remained stubbornly blank.

Throwing it against the wall in terrified frustration, she screamed, "Help, someone help!"

A golden glow lit up the corridor from the far end, getting closer and closer, the temperature rising. Crackling reached her ears as the fire ravaged the inside of the once magnificent building, their whispers promising death.

Paralyzed by fear, she could do nothing but watch as the flames drew nearer, the heat stinging her cheeks and making her sweat.

Breathing became harder as the smoke surrounded her, her throat closing up in protest. Blackness played at the edges of her vision, before rushing suddenly inwards. She felt herself falling. Down, down, down.

Did I get out?

That was the very question she asked herself now, as she watched the flames erupt out of the windows, finally freeing themselves from the confines of the thick walls and licking over the bricks, reaching for the eerie moon that hung above the school, stained red.

Rubbing her arms, she attempted to rid herself of the feeling of flames crawling over her body, melting away flesh.

Staring up at the buildings upper floor, her heart stopped. There in the window was a girl, her skin blackened by the flames, hair and clothes burned away. The thing that horrified her the most though, was the intense blue of the girl's eyes. Her eyes.

Her mouth opened in a scream, but no sound emerged.

In the window, the figure just stared dolefully back at her, as her body began to disintegrate into dust.

Suddenly, she was back in the building. She was the girl. This was the end.

With that realization, a strange sense of calm descended over her and she felt a smile pull at her split lips. She was going to die, she knew that, yet it didn't scare her. Wherever she went to next, she would be at peace. No more suffering, just silence and blissful numbness for the rest of eternity. For once, she would be the one to leave, not the one left behind.

Finally, she would be happy. That was her very last thought as she looked out at the village in the valley below, watching the bright flash of lights in the distance, coupled with the blare of sirens. Above her, the moon no longer looked dark and scary, there was a kind of inviting, touchable beauty to it now, as if it were beckoning her.

The fire that surrounded her was no longer painful; she lifted her arms to embrace it and felt the flames wrap around her, the orange streaks caressing her face, stroking her to sleep.

Healing Waters

By Michael Noe

If he could make it to the river all of his sins would be forgiven. The past and present would merge into a glorious future devoid of pain and the desires that had threatened to consume him. All of his memories are drenched in blood and tangled, broken limbs.

"I love you, but I need this. I need to feel something. Some sense of purpose and hope." There can be no love without pain. Without pain there could be no death. They were all the same. All moving together to flood the soul with life. What was the soul? It was everything. If he could gaze into the soul, he would have all the answers. The keys to life and death. There would be no secrets. There would be no need of God. God was inside the soul. He knew it was there. He just needed to glimpse it in order to see it.

"Please, don't cry."

The tears aren't hers. They're his. They fall like a gentle, salty rain as he plunges the knife deep into her stomach. Dark red blood pours from the wound like an offering from the heavens. His tears mix with the blood, purifying it. At least he thinks so anyway. He lowers his head and drinks from the wound feeling the shame that always comes at this moment. He stares at the pooling blood transfixed by its beauty. There is power in the blood. The flowing blood spreads around his fingers as he traces lines on her skin, his tongue slides into her belly button. He feels himself growing aroused. "Even in death you're beautiful."

She was. Her honey blond hair spreads around her shoulders like a halo. Her blue eyes stare sightless as he desecrates and defiles her naked body. Her smooth stomach spreads open like a sacrifice. He explores the wound as if he's digging for treasure. The warm skin against his probing hands makes him smile lecherously. She was broken. Pieces of a puzzle he longed to put back together. Her eyes popped free from their sockets like orbital olives. He peeled away the skin from her gaunt cheeks as if it were cheese. How he would love to piece her back together. All he knew how to do was destroy. He wished he could create instead.

He waved her arm in the air and placed the severed limb beside her limbless torso. Her legs were lying beside her head smashed like fine porcelain. The legs were footless. The feet shoved deep inside her sex. He smiled as he gazed at her painted toes as they peeked out of her vagina. It was almost art of a perverted kind. So many others twisted into new shapes. Their bodies crudely taken apart and discarded like garbage. The insides were always the most beautiful. The heart even still was an organ that was associated with all emotions. Love, hate. What he would give to hear someone say that they loved him. Even if they didn't mean it, the words alone would make him feel as if he mattered. In his quest to glimpse into the soul he never once felt as if he was loved or even needed. Why was it so hard for someone to love him?

The river would heal him. His quest would end and the blood that marked his tired flesh would be washed clean. He would emerge whole. Maybe even forgiven. He wasn't too far gone for forgiveness was he? No, the river would wash him clean. It would welcome him with open arms and the warm embrace that would wash away all the sins. He would immerse himself in the river and bathe himself in its warm waves. Plunging head first he would cry out for salvation. He was tired. All he wanted was to sleep. He needed to surrender himself to the river. The river held all of the answers he needed. All he wanted would soon be revealed. He felt as if he had been awake for a hundred years. His bones cried out for rest. Soon. It would all be over soon. It was a word that held promise. There was hope in soon. It was something he could hold onto as he made his journey to redemption. It was a journey he didn't want to make but felt as if he had too.

The soul had failed him. He had yet to find all the answers. Maybe he wasn't worthy of finding them at all. It was possible that he was demented in some way and his quest was one of delusion. He didn't have anyone he could ask. He was a loner that found the idea of connections of any kind as a hindrance. Aside from that, he was a monster. No one could truly love a monster. It was impossible He was unworthy of love or even respect. He lived in a small one-bedroom house that was stripped of any personality. No one visited him, or even knew who he was. It was better that way. He was incapable of feeling anything but love, and he had loved so many. That love was so real and made him feel as if he were more than the monster he had become.

He would look at himself every morning, tracing his reflection, unsure of what the mirror revealed. His face never changed. He was plain. Millions of people were the same way. They blended in and no one remembered him. Anyone else would have find this sad, but he wasn't. It made it easier for him to seek out the soul that would sing its answers revealing the meaning of life and death. His reflection had a weariness around the eyes. His thin pale lips never smiled, and he couldn't even remember the last time he laughed. If anyone knew the secrets that existed in those eyes they would run screaming. These were eyes that drank a lot of death. His hands had become accustomed to carving into flesh. He almost expected his hands to be permanently stained with blood.

Once upon a time his mother had called him her sweet little angel. He was far from that now. He was a demon. He would often wonder if there was something else living inside him. Something that enjoyed the feel of cold dead flesh and the warm, flowing blood. As he rode the bus each morning he didn't see people he saw bodies swinging from meat hooks. Their blood splashing against the blue plastic seats as they bumped along toward their destination. He would touch them all with love and he taste their salty skin. The bus wasn't just full of people. These were potential victims. All he had to do was follow one of them home and observe them until the right moment when he could strike. There was no way to stop him once he made himself known. There had been many that had tried, but they had all failed. It was a gift he had. It was almost as if he were the invisible man.

Everything it seemed lead to the river. It haunted his dreams, it showed up everywhere. He could feel it pulling him onward. The soul may have been the beginning of his quest, but he realized that the river was really what he was seeking out. No matter where he went it seemed as if the river was drawing him closer. It was always there whispering his name, promising him that he would be healed. What if I fail? What if I never make it? A lot could happen as he slowly made his through alleys teeming with garbage and reeked of urine and human filth. The city was alive around him, but he was the walking dead. He had no life left inside him. His spirit was crushed, his soul was rotten, and black. All of that death had removed all of the goodness within him. While others laughed, he was silently screaming inside.

He had first read about the river in his mother's old Bible. It was the Tigress, but what if there was another river that held the power to heal? What if all of those broken and lost could find a place to heal themselves and be whole again? The thing that struck him was that people had the idea of salvation wrong. As he read the Bible he began to see that Jesus was only there to lead people to Baptism. It was the Baptism that was the true key to salvation. All of the miracles and the promises of one to lead them to the kingdom of Heaven all led to purification and only water could do that. When he looked at the various verses and the promise of salvation he was struck by how little people saw water as a true source of grace and light. When you emerged from the water it was as if you were being raised from the dead. All of the old made new. It became his new quest. The killing was all a part of it. He was addicted and soon he would be free.

How had he not seen this sooner? Was it possible that he wasn't ready? That made sense. His own soul was what he needed to see. It was slowly atrophying and the more havoc he created the blacker his soul became. Would It wash clean? To have a soul as white as freshly fallen snow was something his mind couldn't comprehend. Wasn't it possible that all of those souls he had freed would be waiting to seek revenge? They would be there with reaching hands to pull him down to his demise. Revenge itself was a concept that gave the hopeless, hope. It was the link that tied everyone together. He understood the power of emotions and their desire to feel vindicated and loved.

Everyone wanted to feel love and to be held in an embrace that chases away the monsters of fear. His mother had loved him. She was the only one who had. There should have been a mourning for his lost childhood and all of the loneliness that led him to what he had become. Was it revenge that he sought all along? Revenge under the thin veil of seeking the answers that only the soul could provide? Was it possible that all of the rejection had led to this? This was just his way of getting back at those that had oppressed him. Not for any religious reasons but for reasons that were shallow and meant nothing to anyone else. Unless of course you had been there and knew just how cruel people could be. Cruelty was a part of life. You couldn't escape it even if you wanted to. The world was divided by acceptance and the idea that no one was created equally.

When he looked back on his life there were moments of happiness. He wasn't taunted or bullied, but somehow being ignored made everything worse. What if he had made more of an effort to be accepted, or even noticed? Would it have made things different? It was doubtful. His first taste of death had been at eighteen. Looking back, he could remember everything. The way her naked body lay on the bed as he sat beside her, running his fingers through her long brunette hair. She smelled faintly of sweat and a perfume that was musky and seemed to emanate from her pores. It was as if her body had absorbed it into her skin. If he cut her open she would bleed rose petals. Her eyes were a dark stormy gray that had faded out like stars in a cloudy sky. He traced the light stretch marks on her stomach and wished that she were still alive to feel his gentle touch. Now her cold, dead skin felt like a slab of marble.

Her clothes lay at the foot of the bed in a neat little pile that stood in direct contrast to how she died. She had struggled and whimpered, but once the handcuffs were in place she seemed to calm down just a little. Maybe, just maybe she had realized that every waking moment had led to this. No matter how many decisions she had made throughout the day, or even week would still lead to this moment. She could give herself to him willingly, but she had fought. He could still feel her breath on his cheek as he secured each wrist. If possible, he knew that she would love to kick him but that would be hard with two broken knees. She was so beautiful. Angels in paintings weren't this perfect. He had breathed in her scent and shuddered with pleasure. Her eyes were filled with tears and they begged him to let her go.

He had been watching her all week. Everywhere she went he was there. When she was shopping, he was subtlety watching her while casually pretending to look at cans of soup. Watching her became an art form. He wanted to touch and now that she was laying in front of him, he was a surgeon exploring all of the parts he thought her broken. The hammer smashed her face with such force he heard her teeth hit the wall beside him. It was the blood that mesmerized him. There was so much of it. It was as if someone had opened a can of paint and splashed it all over the room. It dripped into his eyes momentarily blinding him. This was art. It was poetry. As he explored her ruined face he felt like a poet that had discovered the true meaning of love, and purpose. Everyone had one. This was the moment he had always longed for. That moment of pieces falling together. Of everything making sense. There was clarity in death. Wasn't it really just the beginning of something new? He had released her and now she was somewhere else. Somewhere pure. Her broken body was merely a shell.

As he walked to the river he knew with certainty that he had been wrong. There was no release in death. No matter how much he searched there were no answers in what he was doing. Only the river could answer all of his questions. There was no love, no power over those he had stolen life from. If there was a hell would he find himself there? No, the river would heal him, and save him. It occurred to him that maybe everything he believed could be wrong. Wouldn't be the first time. Religion was full of people who were wrong. It wasn't just the religious. It was everyone who put their faith in politicians and things that were fallible. In the end everything was fallible. There was no hope in anything. Even faith was misguided. Everyone was looking for something to make life easier and more tolerable. As he walked through the darkened streets he looked for anyone or a sign that would tell him that he was doing the right thing.

He followed twisting streets blindly, knowing that he would eventually find what he was looking for. In the end everyone did. You just had to look hard enough and want it bad enough. It was beyond faith and even belief. Instinctively he headed toward sanctuary. All of his memories came rushing at him. He stumbled drunkenly through intersections that seemed to lead nowhere. If he had been driving he would have already been there, but this was a journey he could only take on foot. It was the kind of journey that would enlighten even the most jaded atheist. He knew he was close. He could hear it calling him. It was a still summer night, but he knew that the water would be crashing onto the shore to welcome him. It was a song of peace, and longing. He was so close now he could feel it.

He stopped walking for a moment and smiled as he gazed at the moon. This was what made this night so special. The blood moon was there guiding him. It showed him the way to go. He followed it blindly and with awe. He was so close he could smell it in the air. He wanted to jump with joy at the nearness of it but he didn't want to waste any more time. The moon was red and seemed to pulse like a beating heart in the cloudless sky. If he stretched his arms way up maybe he could touch it. What would it feel like? Would it be warm and inviting or would it be like sticking his hand in a frozen pond? Were there others on the same journey as he was? The thought filled him with panic.

He had never thought about that. It was supposed to be a solitary event. If there were others, it would ruin everything. He needed to do this alone. He could see the blood, and mangled bodies as he walked on. Tears coursed down his cheeks. He saw just a smudge of beach. Now he ran. There was no stopping him. He kicked off his sandals and felt the warm sand caress his toes. At the water's edge he began to laugh. It was almost like returning to the womb. The water was so warm and inviting, as he allowed the current to take him in. He waded for a moment and then he allowed himself to go under. His chest convulsed with the desperate need to breathe. His body convulsed but he stayed where he was. This was where he needed to be. This was his home now. Now in death he knew that he was finally free.

Superstitious

By Kat Gracey

Step on a crack, break your mother's back.

Audrey was sure to hop over the crack in the sidewalk, she certainly wouldn't want anyone to suffer on her account, especially her mother. Always superstitious, she was constantly adhering to the rules. She would never dream of walking under a ladder, refused to go anywhere with the number thirteen in the address and avoided black cats at all costs.

Her mother called it her little quirks, but Audrey took these things very seriously. For example, the blood on the moon last night, she was sure that was a bad omen. It meant blood would be spilled. She had read that somewhere, although she couldn't recall where.

She was sure to throw some salt over her shoulder at lunch in an attempt to ward off the bad luck.

Lost in thought, as she walked home from school, Audrey paused to look at a bunch of flyers on a nearby telephone pole. One offered babysitting services, another guitar lessons. It was the third one that caught her attention. It was a missing poster and the girl in the picture, looked suspiciously like her.

"Missing," she said to herself, "Sixteen year old, Audrey Bannon, has not been seen since June 1st. Please contact me at the number below if you have seen her."

Today was June 1st.

Under the description section it listed her as last being seen wearing a pale blue sundress and her hair had been in two braids.

Audrey glanced down at the dress she wore, pale blue. She ran a hand along one of her braids, and shivered.

After a moment, she grinned broadly, "It's a practical joke."

Someone had put it up to fool her. It wasn't hard to guess who. Her cousin Florence was always pulling nasty pranks on her. They were the same age and from a young age had been forced to play together. Audrey, however, preferred reading to playing and Florence was a tomboy who grew bored easily. So she would play pranks on her cousin to entertain herself.

Audrey snatched the flyer off the pole, chuckled to herself, before folding it up and putting it into her backpack.

When she arrived home, the house was empty. Her mother often worked until four in the afternoon, so Audrey would usually make herself a snack and get started on her homework, until she returned.

Audrey got to work making herself a cheese and pickle sandwich. As she turned to place the knife into the dishwasher, she saw a face at the kitchen window. Letting out a squeal of surprise she dropped the knife on the floor.

The face vanished in an instant, but not before Audrey saw that it belonged to a man and that his face looked very strange. His features had been distorted and his skin very pale. What struck her though was the turquoise colored curls that framed his face. Who on earth would dye their hair that color?

Audrey hurried to the window, peering out into the back yard for another glimpse of the man. The yard was empty, there was no sign of anyone and from here she could see that the gate, leading into the yard, was locked.

Confused, Audrey considered going outside to look, but with the moon last night, she didn't think that was a good idea. The door was locked and her mother would be home soon. She took her sandwich upstairs to her room. As she sat at her desk eating it, she stared at the posters on her wall. Most of them were of horses, her favorite animal. She had begged her mother for one when she was little, but her mother told her it was too expensive. She would take her to the stables every once in a while, but that all stopped after her accident.

Audrey didn't remember exactly what happened. One minute she was on the horse, Samson was his name, and the next she was flying. The next thing she knew, she was in the hospital and her mother told her that she had been there for a long time. She still loved horses though. It wasn't Samson's fault that she fell. Or that she hadn't put on her helmet.

The doctors said that she had hurt her brain, but she didn't understand what they meant. She felt fine.

Sandwich done, she started on her homework. It was math, not her best subject.

As she pondered over one of the questions, she heard a door close downstairs. She glanced up at the clock, it was twenty to four. Her mother was home early.

She scratched an answer onto her homework sheet, then changed her mind and erased it. Why was it so hard?

Sighing, she ran a finger over the scar on her head, just beneath her hairline. Ever since the accident, she found it difficult to work stuff out sometimes. Reaching across to her nightstand, she lifted her lucky rabbit's foot. She found it at a garage sale.

Back in the hospital, after she woke up, she overheard her mother talking to the doctor. Her mother was upset and asked him how it could have happened. How her daughter could have ended up like this.

"It's just bad luck," he replied.

Seeing how upset her mother was, the way her family and friends acted around her, Audrey was determined to avoid bad luck any way she could.

The door creaked open behind her, "I've already eaten, Mom. I had a sandwich."

She had a sandwich every day, yet every day her mother would check to see if she had eaten.

When her mother didn't reply, Audrey turned to look. The man stood in the doorway, the one from outside. She could see now why his face looked strange, he was wearing a mask. He looked like a clown, except all the color had been bleached from his mask. There were no bright red lips or rosy cheeks.

"Who are you?" Audrey asked.

"I've come to take you out of here," he said, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

"To where?"

"Your new home. A magical place that you'll never want to leave."

"Do they have horses there?" Audrey asked.

"Yes, all kinds. Come with me, I'll show you."

Audrey hesitated, "I don't know if I should. My mom will be home soon."

"We can take a quick look, then you can tell your mother and she can come too."

"She can?" It sounded amazing.

"Of course. We would never separate you from your mother."

Audrey stood up, "I don't know if I should. I might get into trouble."

"I would never want that. I suppose I will have to offer the opportunity to some other lucky boy or girl."

"What do you mean lucky?" Audrey asked.

"You have no idea how rare it is to be chosen. The lucky boy or girl is treated like royalty. There is so much to see and do and we even have a healer."

"A healer?"

"Yes, a very good one. He could fix that scar lickety split."

Audrey's hand went to her head. No more scar?

"Can he make my brain better too?"

"Of course. Why don't you come and meet him and when he fixes you, your mother will realise how wonderful it is and she will have to let you stay."

"Okay, as long as we're quick."

*

Marion twisted the tissue in her hands, trying to stay calm. She needed to, for Audrey's sake.

"She wouldn't just wander off. She knows to come right home after school. Her backpack is here, so she did get home. You need to find her."

The police officer was writing everything down in his notepad, but he didn't look concerned.

"You know teenagers run off all the time. She is 16," the cop said.

"She may be 16, but she has...problems. She had an accident when she was little and there was some brain damage."

Now he looked slightly concerned, "If she's special needs..."

"She's not special needs. She's capable enough, just...naïve. Too trusting."

"Do you think she would have gone off with a stranger?" he asked.

Marion shrugged, "I don't know. I hope not, I've drummed it into her enough times. There's something else."

She unfolded the sheet of paper that she had found in Audrey's backpack. The cop took it from her.

"Ma'am it's a little soon to be making up flyers. I'm sure that..."

"I didn't make it. It was in her backpack. I don't know where it came from."

"Could she have made it herself? Could she be playing a prank?"

"I don't know. It wouldn't be like her. Most of that stuff goes right over her head."

"Okay, we'll canvas the neighborhood and keep you updated. For now, sit tight and let us know if you hear from her."

Marion felt so frustrated. She couldn't sit here and do nothing. The flyer scared her. Who would do such a thing? Even if it was some kind of prank, it was a horrible thing to do. She stood at the window, as night began to fall, hoping for some sign of Audrey.

It wouldn't surprise her if she had wandered off because of one of her silly superstitions. They had taken over her life. Only last night she was almost hysterical because there was a red glow around the moon. She tried to explain that it was nothing to be worried about, but she wouldn't listen.

An old, white van drove by. There was a logo on the side for some kind of petting zoo, it showed two horses, one white, one black. Audrey would love that.

As she waited, a horrible certainty came over her, which made her breath catch in her throat. Audrey wasn't coming home.
Black Shadows Under a Blood Moon

By Roma Gray

Kate stared up at the full moon, through the window in the front door, as she taped around the door jamb with the last of the duct tape. A lump formed in her throat and icy panic began to seep in.

The moon was red—blood red. No doubt about it, the blood moon had arrived to their town—just as it had arrived to so many of the other towns in the news reports. Pictures she had seen on television of the dead in the streets, flashed across her mind. Terrorist attacks, the government claimed, but the group—whoever they were―seemed unstoppable, attacking a new town every few days over the past month.

Noticing the calendar on the wall, she saw that today was in fact Groundhog Day. In spite of herself, she gave a short laugh. Kate and her husband Mark had been glued to the television set all day watching the news reports, and not once did any of the reporters have time to mention this fact. Briefly she wondered whether or not the rodent saw his shadow.

Shadow.., she thought to herself and involuntarily shivered.

She now realized why the newscasters had avoided this story.

Kate looked down at the empty roll of duct tape in her hand, wishing they had bought more. She then scanned the tape covering the edges of the front door and all the windows with frightened eyes.

Will it be enough to keep out the gas? she wondered. Are all of our seals airtight?

Knowing Mark was sealing up the back door with his final roll of duct tape as well, she knew it didn't matter: Their efforts would either be enough or they wouldn't. No going back to the store now—it was too late. All that was left to do was wait and see.

Toward the back of the room, Kate heard a sound akin to a cat mewing, which eventually turned into urgent crying. Motherly instinct taking over, she rushed over to the white bassinet sitting near the couch.

"It's okay, sweetheart," soothed Kate as she scooped up the baby in her arms, cuddling her until the cries softened and finally vanished completely. "Everything is going to be fine. Mommy and Daddy have taken care of everything. I promise, Mindy. It will be fine...everything is going to fine..."

"How's it going in here?" asked Mark, entering the room with an empty roll of duct tape in his hand. "Did you have enough to seal up everything?"

"I...I was able to get one layer of tape over all the edges of the door and front window," said Kate. "Whether or not it will be enough..."

Mark tossed his empty roll into the trash and briskly walked to the front door. "And you pressed the tape down like I showed you, right? You made sure there were no wrinkles letting in air?"

"Yes, of course," she answered, but saw he was ignoring her, running his hand along the tape around the door, checking her work like he always did. Being married to a perfectionist wasn't easy, but then again, if it kept them alive, maybe tonight she'd be thankful for it.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Beth?" he asked, his eyes still focused on the duct tape.

Kate sighed and gently placed the now quiet, baby back in the bassinet. "Yes. Beth says John doesn't buy any of it. Says it's a hoax."

Mark, turned to face her, shock on his face. "What?! Mr. Conspiracy Theorist?" Mark let out a half-laugh. "Seriously? I thought he'd be in paranoia heaven over this; he lives for his theories about aliens and government death squads!"

Kate shook her head. "Nope. And he believes this so strongly he is not taping up his house."

Mark's smile dropped. "What?! But that's a death sentence for both him and Beth!"

Kate nodded. "I know. Beth is terrified."

She barely got the words out of her mouth before John raced to the entry table, picked up his cell and began dialing. He then moved to the front window, peering out at John and Beth's house across the street.

Kate glanced out the window as well, trying not to look up at the sky, avoiding the sight of the terrifying blood moon. However, she soon realized not looking at the moon did not save her from seeing its impact on the outside world. The moonlight tinted everything a ghastly red―a portent, she feared, of the blood that would be spilled that night.

Mark pushed the speaker button on his phone and Kate heard John answer.

"What?" came John's blunt greeting.

"John, it's Mark and Kate from across the street," said Mark.

A sigh answered this comment. "I can see who you are. It says your name right here on my phone. What do you want? I'm fortifying my house as you should be. If you're calling to borrow a few guns, Beth and I don't have any to spare. You liberals should have planned better."

"You can worry about your guns later!" exclaimed Mark. "Your first concern should be the gas attack, which, BTW, has already started. Look at the moon. The gas the terrorists use turns the moon red. Haven't you seen the news reports on the other cities hit by this?"

"I have seen them, and if you've been paying attention, you'd realize it's all a lie. There might be some kind of haze or C02 or some other such thing making the moon red, but no one ever reports getting sick or even sleepy from any gas. People are getting physically torn apart, windows smashed in, and folks abducted. A gas can't do that. And all the witnesses have reported seeing strange shadows, people moving around the houses. That's what you should be worried about!"

Having heard enough, Kate shouted at the phone. "The news reports say it is a yet unidentifiable gas and it is making the citizens go crazy, turning on each other. That's what caused the broken windows and physical attacks."

"Then why are so many bodies missing?" asked John. "Huh? If it's the residents of the town doing the dirty work, going on some crazed killing spree as you say, why are there so many missing people? You answer me that!"

Kate groaned. "Because they've been driven crazy from the disease and have run off, gone into hiding. They've even found a few in neighboring towns. And the rest..." She glanced at Mark, who made eye contact and grimaced. Many of the citizens had been found partially eaten. She couldn't bring herself to say what others were wondering―were the missing lying in the stomachs of the deranged survivors?

"John," started Mark again. "The President of the United States even said in his press conference that terrorists are involved and are using this gas to attack neighborhoods. Why would he lie?"

A harsh laugh issued from the phone. "Because he's the ring leader, you idiot! He's working with the aliens to abduct us. They want people to tape up their doors and windows so when the aliens come for them they can't get out of their own homes. That's why Beth and I are armed to the teeth and not taping up our means of escape. We're just waiting for those bastards..."

Mark and Kate waited for him to continue, but instead heard a load clunk as if John had dropped the phone. A woman's hysterical scream could be heard in the background

"John? John?" asked Mark. "What's going on? What's going on?"

A loud boom over the phone was his only answer, and Kate saw a flash of light behind John and Beth's living room curtain.

"Oh my God, is that a shotgun blast?!" asked Kate, pointing to the window.

Mark looked from the window to the phone and back again, horror etched deeply in his features.

"John talk to us! John! Beth!!" Mark screamed into the phone.

There was a strange noise, like the roar of an animal. A second later Beth's screaming abruptly cut short.

Silence.

"Mark, what just happened? Mark?" asked Kate, wringing her hands.

He said nothing, only shook his head, his blue eyes large and fearful.

And then they heard a new noise. One that made Kate's heart nearly stop: heavy breathing. It drew closer to the phone and grew more rapid as Mark repeatedly asked for the identity of the person on the other line. Finally, the person—whoever it was―moved away from the phone and there was only silence.

With trembling hands, Kate grabbed the cell from Mark and turned it off.

Mark's eyes then seemed to light up, and he pointed out the window. "Look!"

A chill ran up Kate's spine as she saw that the door to John and Beth's home was wide open, and the black shadow of a man could be seen in the entryway.

"Is...is that John, you think?" asked Kate. A terrible quiet had fallen over the room like a blanket and even the baby seemed afraid to make a noise.

Marked ducked down and signaled for her to do the same. He then cautiously peered out the window.

"He...looks about the right height, but I can't see who's making the shadow..."

"Maybe we should turn off the lights, so he doesn't know we're here. Maybe..."

Kate interrupted herself with a yelp as she saw the inky black shadow—and only the shadow, completely unattached to any person or thing―slide into the lighter violet shadows of the tree in John and Beth's front yard.

"Did you see that? Please tell me you saw that!" she asked, turning to stare into Mark's ashen face.

He nodded slowly. "That's not possible, that's just not..."

Both grew silent as they saw the black shadow moving once more. It glided from the tree shade into the shadow created by the hedge, moving toward the edge of the front yard. It then abruptly stopped where the shadow of the hedge met the light. Slower, then faster, the thing paced back and forth in the darkness.

"I wish it would move into the light," whispered Kate, realizing that whatever it was, this was the thing the survivors had described: shadows.

"It's like it's trying to stay hidden in the shade of the bushes," said Mark, and pointed at the spot in front of the black shadow. "It stopped at the light. Is it trying to avoid being seen? It's almost like the light is some type of barrier. I think it wants to go further, look how it keeps moving around like it's trying to figure out a way to go out farther."

"But what is it?" she asked again. "Why can't we see what's making that shadow?"

He shook his head and pressed his lips into a thin line. "I don't see anything either. It doesn't make sense. The shadows around it are not that dark...we should be able to see what's making it!"

"Beth..," she muttered, thinking about her friend, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. "She seemed so scared! That scream! Do you think that thing hurt her and John?"

Mark momentarily pulled her into him and kissed her on the forehead. Kate wiped the tears off of her face.

"There was nothing we could do," he whispered in her ear. "Try not to think about her for right now. Be strong. We need to protect Mindy―focus on that. It's all we can do until this is over."

Kate nodded and Mark turned back toward the window. Feeling a little more in control of her emotions now, she also resumed her watch.

It will be over at sunrise, she thought to herself. The attacks always end at sunrise. Please, Beth, if you're out there, please find a place to hide. We'll come for you then.

"I wonder where it's planning on going," said Mark, sounding more fascinated than scared now. "It sure seems frustrated."

Just as it was beginning to dawn on Kate with disturbing clarity where the shadow's desired destination was, the thing glided back up the shade of the hedges, under the tree, then moved to the shade of the street light that extended clear across the street and—directly into Kate and Mark's front yard.

"It's coming here! It's coming here!" Kate cried.

"Oh shit!" yelled Mark, fear now in his voice.

Kate leapt to her feet and ran to the light switch on the wall in the living room. "I'll turn out the light so it doesn't know we're here!"

"Honey, no it already knows..," started Mark, when the front window suddenly shattered.

Kate screamed as she felt the glass shower her and smelled a rotted stench flood into the room. She then looked up, expecting to see the dark shadow attacking her husband. But Mark was gone. In the darkness near the window, stood two black shadows with glowing red eyes.

Somehow sensing the truth, Kate looked to the taller shadow and croaked, "Mark?"

In reply, she only heard heavy breathing, angry and slow. The things then began to pace back and forth like restless jungle cats within the shadows, as though they wanted to reach her, but couldn't. She glanced over to the floor lamp, lowered her gaze to the ground and saw she was standing in a pool of light.

Then, as though awaking from a dream, a single thought entered her mind: The baby! Mindy! With the sound of the window breaking, Mindy should have been screaming. Instead, the child remained deathly quiet. Kate glanced over her shoulder, and to her horror, realized the bassinet was in the shadows―unprotected.

Instinct took over and Kate rushed to Mindy. The things, anticipating her destination, raced around the edge of the pool of light.

While keeping her eyes on the approaching monsters, Kate reached into the bassinet and―felt nothing more than icy air. She looked down. On top of the blankets lay a small black shadow with glowing red eyes.

"No! Mindy, no!!" cried Kate, now in near hysterics.

Unable to tear her eyes from her transformed infant, she did not see the approaching dark shadow to her right, the one who used to be her husband. The thing hooked three talons deeply into her shoulder, and Kate screamed. With a wild jerk, the creature dragged her through the shadows, knocking over tables and other furniture as they went. Finally, with one hard tug, the shadow threw her through the broken window. Once outside in the dark and on the wet grass, the shadow leapt on top of her, weightless yet still somehow unmovable.

"Mark! Mark!" cried Kate, hoping some part of the man she married remained in the creature. "Please don't hurt me! Please..."

With one swift movement, a talon tore into her abdomen, and Kate shrieked. The thing then plunged its face into the wound and began to tug and rip at her insides. Within her belly, she felt something ripple and move until finally the monster pulled free one massive length of intestine. Then the shadow that had been John and the shadow that had been Mindy slithered out of the open window and joined Mark in the gory feast. Kate wailed in agony, fighting with her legs and fists against an enemy who had no substance, who seemed to be there, yet somehow wasn't.

From other houses, more and more shadows came, tearing at her face, ripping away chunks from her legs and arms until shock and loss of blood took away her fight. Kate could only lay helplessly on the ground, whimpering in misery as the monsters continued to feed. Above her floated the angry blood moon, taunting her, almost laughing at what it had taken from her that night. But soon, so many shadows had joined the feeding frenzy that they blotted out the moon, and all Kate could see before death took her, was black.

The Grimoire Prophecies

By K. A. Denver

Sophie

This was the day I had dreaded. My first day back at school. I was really tired of the looks from neighbors and family friends, their pitying glances as I would pass them, since it had happened. Things had abruptly changed for me, that heart stopping day, four months ago. It had turned my world upside down and torn it apart. Everything changed forever...and now, thanks to the grievance Councilor/shrink my Aunt had insisted I see, I was starting back to school.

The bell rang and class just started, as I stood on the steps in front of the main doors to Winchester High School. I wanted to avoid the bustle and throng of everyone in the halls in an attempt to hinder and prolong their gazes and inevitable questions.

I locked myself away after it happened and wrapped myself up in those first few days, in the fantasy that all was well and nothing had changed, that Dad was at his office or working late and Mom at lectures or busying about as she did when she got a little time off. The bubble popped on the day my Mom and Dad were buried, their funeral was a town event as they were both so well liked by all in our small community. My father is...was the town Doctor and my mother a Lecturer in Philology and Archaeology at the local state college. The only person I clung to was Amy. I had no brothers or sisters, as Mom had become extremely sick after my birth, resulting in her having to have a hysterectomy and there in rendering me an only child. My best friend Amy had been my rock. She was with me when Principle Carlson called me into his office to tell me that there had been an accident. She was also by my side when my Aunt Lorna broke the news that both Mom and Dad were dead. With Dad's car in the shop, he had taken a ride with my mom that morning, sealing the loss of my parents, both taken at once. A guy, having had some sort of seizure, pulled into their lane and had hit them head on. My parents both passed away at the scene and the guy that had been in the other car had sustained nothing more than a few cuts, bruises and a mild concussion.

I arranged with Amy to meet outside school just before class was due to start but I couldn't face it. I couldn't handle the thought of all those that were once my circle of friends seeing me after all this time. I knew they wouldn't know what to say and that they would be looking at me with pity. I ended up texting Amy with a feeble sorry and a nonsensical excuse, along with a promise to meet her after morning registration.

Taking a deep breath I closed my eyes, trying my best to calm my racing heart, the anxiety I had been experiencing on a daily basis since the accident threatened to rear its ugly head and add to an already stressful morning.

I began the technique my shrink recently taught to me. Taking a long, slow, deep breaths through my nose, I filled my lungs and held it to the count of 5 before slowly breathing it out through pursed lips, almost making a whistling sound but not quite. I was on my third repetition and it was starting to work, I could feel the wave of panic pull back and I began to relax. It was then, at that moment, I sensed someone staring at me.

Oh great, now I look like I've lost my mind. A weirdo standing with eyes closed unmoving on the front steps of the school hyperventilating.

I was about to open my eyes as a presence near me spoke,

"You gonna stand there all day? I need past and you're blocking my way."

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

I opened my eyes and spun around to find myself face to face with a complete stranger. He stood about 6' 1' towering over me with beautiful, dark brown hair that was longer than boys my age usually wore these days and his eyes? His eyes were the deepest chocolate brown I've ever seen, and they were now pinning me with a look of what appeared to be a conflicting mixture of both amusement and annoyance.

"Well?" He glanced past me to the door before turning his attention my way once more, "Are you going in or are you gonna move so I can? I'm already late and being it's my first day, I really don't want it to suck any more than it already does."

He was wearing what was once black jeans, which were now quite worn looking, maybe more gray than their original color and a black t-shirt that had some generic logo on the front. His bag was slung over his shoulder, as was his jacket, and he stood there looking at me for a few seconds before lifting a brow, then with a nod of his head indicating behind me.

Mentally shaking myself, I stepped to the side, my recent threatened anxiety episode having passed, to be replaced with the sheer embarrassment of standing facing this guy and gawping like a fish. "Sorry, go on in. I didn't mean to block your way."

My face was burning and I was sure it was at least three shades of purple.

To my annoyance he laughed softly as he passed me, shaking his head slightly as in disbelief. "You coming in or are you gonna stand out there all day staring at doors?"

He had pulled one open and was holding it ajar for me to pass through, his arm moving in an exaggerated manner, gesturing for me to enter.

"Umm, yeah. Of course I am going in."

Who the hell was this? And better still, who the hell did he think he was? I gripped the reigns of my bag tighter in anger, as I all but stomped past him, annoyed even more as he chuckled when I did.

"Thank you," I muttered as I headed to first class and to meet Amy. Only glancing back once before turning the corner to see him standing just inside the doorway, his eyes trained on me a few seconds, before breaking the stare to enter the main office.

The word Jerk slipped past my lips as I stormed off towards my class to continue on my already shitty day.

Joshua

I have to say I thought today was going be completely crap, it had started with Ethan moaning on about how I was hogging the bathroom and how I was going keep him late on his first day, to my car getting a flat.

I'd got so pissed at him yapping on at me that I decided to do exactly what he was moaning about. I waited until he was in the bathroom, in the shower and I performed a simple yet effective binding spell on him. It wouldn't be until he got out and dressed, ready to leave the house that he would find that he wouldn't be able to. I know, I know it's childish, but he really was being a whiny bitch.

I'd made it to school and parked, of course the only spot was at the back of the lot, taking me longer to get there. I'd been muttering under my breath when I came up to the steps and found her standing there with her back to me. She was lost in herself, not even aware I was behind her. I was glad, it gave me time to drink in the sight of her. She had been standing there when I drove in and I was surprised to find her still stood there. She was wearing those pump things all the girls wore at the minute, her long legs highlighted thanks to the skinny black jeans. She was of slim build from what I got to see from the back, her long blond hair hanging loose, hitting just below her shoulders.

I'd watched her for a little longer before attracting her attention, I wasn't prepared for how beautiful she was and when she turned to face me, I found my brain pause for a second before my usual smart mouth went to work and when I walked past her I was grinning as I held the door open. She went from lost to pissed off in 0 – 30 seconds... feisty.

I watched her stalk off up the hall, the sway of her hips hypnotizing, and I stood there waiting to see if she would turn to look back before rounding the corner. Look back...Look back...Look Back. I grinned as she glanced back just for a second before disappearing out of sight. I was shocked to find myself frowning. I felt caught off guard by how I felt by just those few moments of looking at her. Not wanting to give more to it than I should, I chastised myself for getting all soft and girlie about what had just happened. I went into the office to get my class schedule as I had been instructed to do by the lady on the phone from Friday. When I went in, there were two women sitting behind the counter deep in conversation so they didn't hear me enter.

"I was beginning to think she was going to turn and leave again." The lady on the right frowned a little, her brows pulling down as she spoke. "I just don't know how my Emilie would cope if anything happened to her father and I. That poor girl must be in pieces."

I glanced back to where I had just came in from, were they talking about the blond girl I had just met?

"Oh Alice, I was talking to Anna Mae, you know their neighbor's sister and she says that her sister said, that poor Nina hadn't really been out of the house much from the funerals. The talk around town is that the Aunt lives there with her now until she is old enough to live by herself," the older gray haired lady on the left gossiped. I tried not to move wanting to hear more. I was curious, what had happened?

"We will have to let Mr. Carlson know she is back, he may want to let her teachers know beforehand."

The first lady that had spoken picked up the phone and punched in what I assumed was the Principles extension. "Mr. Carlson sorry for interrupting sir, but I thought you should know that Sophie Seymour has just arrived..."

"Excuse me young man, can I help you?" I was drawn away from the one sided conversation the gray haired woman was having on the telephone, and gave a dry smile as I turned my attention on the woman in front of me.

"Yes, actually you can, my brother and I are starting here today and I was told we were to report to the office on arrival? My name is Joshua Walker and my brother is Ethan. He is feeling poorly today, so he won't be attending until tomorrow." I flashed her my most charming smile, it always worked on the opposite sex, regardless of age.

"Why yes, we have been expecting you. I'm sorry to hear that your brother is unwell, I do hope he feels better soon. If you give me just a moment I will retrieve your schedules."

She turned to leave, the other lady already gone having been called away.

"Excuse me?" I politely called after her. As she turned back, she placed her hand on the counter in front of me. Well, now wasn't this perfect, smiling as I reached out, my fingertips touching hers. Looking into her eyes and smiling as her pupils dilated, her stare fixed on mine.

"We would like to be placed in the same classes as Sophie Seymour, you can do that for me can't you."

The last a statement not a question. Never taking her eyes from mine, she nodded slightly.

"Good, that's very good." You know, I don't know why I cared but I didn't like the idea that these two women would be sitting here talking shit about her. True or not it irked me. "From now on you will not talk about Sophie Seymour. You will only discuss her in relation to her school work, isn't that right?"

She nodded once more as I smiled, her own lips dumbly mirroring mine.

"Excellent, now go get those schedules for me." I took my hand away, breaking the connection and smiled knowingly as she blinked a little looking slightly confused before smiling once more and indicating the computer on her desk.

"I'll get those schedules for you and your brother. There has been an issue and I'm afraid I will have to print out new ones, but it should only take a second." She turned her attention to the machine and I leaned back against the wall to wait.

Sophie

I was transfixed by a little bird on the branch of a tree outside, I had been captivated by it and was lost in its quirky little movements unaware that I had completely tuned out, until Amy kicked the back of my chair, bringing my consciousness back into the room and making me aware with her little cough of a new arrival. I glanced briefly around at her with a 'What the hell?' glare when she nodded past me to the front of the class. Turning slowly and straightening in my seat, I look up to see Ms. Steel smiling as she welcomed the newcomer. It was him. Taking the note he held, she read it and then gestured for him to take a free seat. CRAP.

Looking around and seeing what I already knew, I let out a groan, there was only one free seat and it was to my left, right next to me. Could this day get any worse? Keeping my eyes lowered, fussing with my books, I tried my best to avoid his gaze, but I could feel it on me as he approached and took the seat beside me. It didn't help that Amy was kicking my chair like crazy. I knew why though, Amy sensed fresh meat. Yes, she was my friend, but she was the biggest guy magnet at school, she had worked her way through half the basketball team and was currently dating the school heartthrob Chris Shepherd who played Center. They were dating about five or so months now, which for Amy was an eternity. Her longest relationship to that point had been a week or two at most.

Glancing around the room I noticed she wasn't the only one to observe him. There were a few girls stealing glances his way with some of the curious guys doing the same, Sam Tolland being one of them. Taking a deep, steadying breath as I caught his stare, he gave me a bright smile and winked. Dropping his gaze with nothing but a brief smile, I started fussing once more with my books. Sam and I had dated, we had been seeing each other a few weeks when the accident happened that killed my parents and I had ended things with him. I just couldn't deal with it. He was a nice guy, cute, funny but the day my parents died, parts of me died too and one of the fractions was anything I was or had been beginning to feel towards him. He had been kind about it, saying he understood and that he would give me space and to his credit he had. He would send the occasional text asking how I was but other than that he had sensed that thick line I had now drawn round myself, the barrier I had put up and I had to end it, he deserved to have more than I had the ability to give him.

Lost in my thoughts of the past, of things that had been and now were lost, never to be again, I suddenly became aware of a hand in front of me holding a tissue...there was a single tear that had escaped and run down my cheek, only to drop on my desk in a tiny yet devastated splash. Glancing up, startled, I looked around the room to see if anyone seen. Ms. Steel had her head in her book reading to the class a chapter from this term's book, The Scarlet Letter.

No one noticed, thank God, it would just be more for them to pity me for.

Taking the tissue I threw a glance at the giver of such a timely gift... the new guy. Surprisingly, his look wasn't one of pity as I had expected, but then I guess he didn't know me, so he knew nothing of my recent loss and my heartache. His look was one of questioning, an unspoken query and one that I just couldn't answer and not just because we were in the middle of class, but because it still hurt me too much to talk about it. Talking about it brought back the pain and the enveloping, swallowing chasm of despair and I just couldn't do that today, not here, not in front of everyone.

Mouthing 'thank you' I averted my attention back to my book and pushed away his inquiring gaze. I needed to just get through today, this would be the hardest my Aunt and my shrink had told me and they were right. Not even anywhere near lunch and I'd already twice looked like an idiot in front of this guy not to mention my zoning out in class. Whose bright idea was this again?

The Bell rang and everyone began to file out and into the hall. The busy bustle of bodies during change of class, allowed me a few moments to gather my thoughts and give myself a mental shake and kick in the ass.

"Did you see him?" Amy was by my side with her perfectly sculpted HD eyebrows wiggling as she hooked my arm. "He is HOT, did you see the color of his eyes? "Wow... and how tall is he? I wonder will he be trying out for the team."

Laughing softly and stopped at my locker. "Amy stop drooling, I don't think Chris would be too fussed about you slobbering over him and he's not all that."

A lie and we both knew it. Putting my books in and taking out others for my next class I felt a genuine smile, regardless of its smallness, pull on my lips. I shut the locker door to revel Amy's face all mock pout and porcelain perfect.

"Oh bull, Sophie, why'd you have to ruin it? A girl's allowed to window shop you know! And not 'All that' my ass, he's edible."

That made me laugh, an honest to God, out loud laugh and I think it shocked Amy as much as it did me. That was the first in what felt like a very long time that I had allowed myself to feel anything other than the weight of the sorrow that always seemed to engulf me.

"You are unreal, I swear," I shoved the books into my bag, the smile still on my face.

Finally, it was the last five minutes of the last class of the day. It hadn't been as bad as I had imagined and I also noted that as long as I kept my head down and avoided eye contact, people pretty much left me alone.

My eyes drifted for the fourth time in as many minutes to the clock on the wall, these last five minutes were the longest of the day. The guy from this morning was sitting a few desks away and as it turned out, was in most of my classes. I'd found myself watching him in one of them. He sat two rows in front to the right giving me the opportunity to actually look at him. Either he hadn't been assigned a locker yet, or he just didn't use it as his black denim jacket was draped over the back of the chair along with his bag which was a plain charcoal gray back pack. He didn't have a slim physique like some of the guys in my year, he was actually quite athletic from what I could tell from the set of his shoulders, that or he worked out.

Just then the bell sounded signaling the end of class and my first day back. Everyone began to spill out, the room emptying quickly, I guess everyone was as eager as me to get this day over. I tidied my books away and moved through the now empty rows I allowed myself a little smile of triumph.

"So, you survived it then." The words were a statement of fact rather than a question, the voice silky and in a conspiratorial low tone. There with his shoulder to the wall was 'the new guy'. Had he been waiting on me?

"Yes, thanks." I didn't stop, I just wanted to get out of here and home. My breath caught a little at that thought... home. Funny how it didn't quite feel just like that anymore, a home was supposed to be welcoming and warm and filled with a loving family. Mine didn't have that anymore, not all of it anyways.

"Your first day? Only I couldn't help but notice you stalling out on that step today, guessed you were new here too." He had pushed away from the wall and was now walking along side me, his hands pushed into his pockets and head tilted towards me. I glanced at him a tad confused.

I stopped at my locker and turned to him, "Umm, no. Well yes, kind of. I missed the last couple of weeks and this is my first day back since..." I stopped abruptly.

I didn't want to talk about this, already I could feel that dark void in my heart begin to expand and swell. "Well, it's my first day back. Anyway."

Grabbing what I needed quickly and re-locking the door, I stopped briefly to look at him, "I hope your day turned out okay. Listen, I'm sorry..."

Glancing over my shoulder, eager to get the hell out and away from this guy and any more questions, "I've to meet my friend and I'm gonna be late if I don't go now."

A lie.

I'd said my goodbyes to Amy earlier, but this guy made me nervous, and I just didn't know why. His posture, his facial expressions were all quite relaxed and seemed oddly strange seeing as he knew no one and as I knew, it was his first day, anyone else wouldn't be so at ease.

He simply smiled a tad lopsided, just ever so slightly and nodded, "Sure, don't let me keep you. I'm Joshua by the way, just so you know."

My lips pressed tightly together as I nodded an acknowledgement, my head bobbed briefly, "Well Joshua, nice meeting you."

I dropped my eyes, breaking the connection and hopefully ending the conversation, "See you around."

I gave an ultra-quick nervous smile before turning and heading off down the corridor to the exit and the world outside.

"You didn't tell me your name!" He called after me, startling me for a second. My step hesitating as I place my hand on the door ready to escape.

Not even turning back I push on and call over my shoulder, "I know!"

Sophie

I pulled up and into the drive and was relieved to see my Aunt was not back, her red Mini Cooper missing from out front. She had given up a lot since the accident, she had moved in to the family home and after the funerals she had given it a few days before she sat me down and discussed options with me. I was seventeen years old, so therefore until I turned eighteen, by law, the responsibility for me and my guardianship went to my Aunt. Dad was an only child, my grandma and grandpa were never able to have their own children so they had adopted him, and other than Aunt Lorna, Mom had no other siblings. Although she only lived four hours from Winchester Falls it was too far outside of town and the school district so she had arranged for her apartment to be looked after while she sorted things here and decided what we were going to do.

The house had been left to me along with a rather large sum of money due to my parents fore thinking and forward planning. At the time of my birth, they had set up insurance policies in the event of their deaths so that I would be looked after financially along with, if needed, terms of guardianship which unfortunately fell on my Aunt. They had consulted with her prior, of course, and in her naivety she had agreed, never thinking that she would ever have to step up to the role.

Entering the house and shutting the heavy paneled oak door behind me, I glanced briefly around the large and pretty much open plan living area, before tossing my jacket over the chair at the foot of the stairs, along with my bag, before going down the hall and into the kitchen. I wasn't hungry, but my addiction of coffee needed fed, I wasn't a fan of instant so it had to be the real deal. After filling the pot and placing it, I lifted an apple and went up to my room to change and get any homework started before Aunt Lorna got back.

I'd just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a bath sheet round me, I was towel drying my hair when my phone buzzed with a message from Sam.

Hey Sophie, hope today didn't go as bad as you thought it would. Was good seeing you back...S

I typed a quick reply. Something about it being okay and I'd see him tomorrow, before tossing my cell onto my bed. I didn't want to engage in a conversation, Amy had already told me that he was hoping to, at some stage, hook up again but I knew that wasn't going to happen. That chapter of my life was over and like a few others, were never going be revisited.

It was an hour or so later that I heard the car drive up and a door close. I had finished my homework a few minutes ago and had picked up this term's book, The Scarlet Letter, getting ready to dive in when the front door closed. Glancing at the clock, it was now after six and I'd stupidly forgot to begin sorting dinner for Aunt Lorna getting back.

Pushing myself off the bed and slipping my feet into a pair of sneakers, I lifted the damning remnants of my now empty coffee cup and trudged down to the kitchen. Looking up from the bags she had just brought in, Aunt Lorna smiled, "Hey Sophie, I've just brought in dinner, thought I may as well save us cooking. Hope you're up for Chinese?"

Retrieving two plates from the cupboard along with cutlery and two glasses, I set the small kitchen table as Aunt Lorna carried over some containers and two cans of Pepsi. Opening the cartons, the smell drifted up and my stomach gave a gurgle. I'd hardly ate a thing all day and for the first time in a long while the food actually seemed just that little bit appetizing.

"So? How did it go?" Aunt Lorna was putting out her dinner as she glanced at me, a hint of concern tugging at her small smile.

"It was okay. Everyone gave me space so not as bad as I thought it was gonna be."

I pushed the food round on my plate a little deciding if I really was hungry after all,

"How was your day? What did you get up to?"

Deciding to give it a go I twirled a fork full of fine noodles and popped it into my mouth. Not bad.

She smiled and seemed to relax a little, "Good, it will get easier I promise. You got through today so the rest will be a breeze."

Her smile faltered a little but just briefly and just enough to be noticeable, "Well I have some news... I got a job today. That's why I wasn't home until late. I met with the editor of the local paper and we had a chat, you are now looking at the newest reporter for the Winchester Falls Chronicle."

"Really? You know Aunt Lorna you don't have to give up your life to look after me. I'm eighteen in just a few months, I told you I could have gone back to Black Creek with you until then." I didn't want her to have her life messed up just because mine was.

Putting her fork down and interlacing her fingers, she rested her elbows on the table as she looked at me with a raised brow, "Sophie... Your mom would want you looked after. You may be nearly eighteen but after what has happened with your parents, I want to be here if you need me. I am not going to alienate you from your friends, this is the time you need them. I have nothing tying me to Black Creek and everything tying me here to you, eighteen or not."

She dropped her gaze briefly as she chewed on her lip. A frown marring her forehead as she spoke, "You know, I know you lost your mom and dad and I do know what that's like. Your mom and I lost Granma Nessa just over twelve years ago and Grandpa Garret shortly after. They weren't taken from us the way your mom and dad were from you, but I do know the pain that comes with not having them here. I would never add to that by taking you away from the things you find familiar and those friends like Amy that have been here for you."

Reaching across the table she held an open hand to me. Looking at it for a second before folding mine into hers, I found I couldn't look up at her because the tears were beginning to form in my eyes and I didn't want her to see that.

"I will be here Sophie for as long as you need me, you are all I have left, you're my family and we need to stay strong for each other. A house is not a home without family in it and a job is just a job. You are what is important to me now, nothing else."

Squeezing my hand gently to emphasize what she was saying I could hear her sniffling obviously fighting tears too. Letting go she reached up and tilted my chin so that she could see my face. "Okay? Now let's eat, and I don't want any excuses either."

Nodding with a smile I picked my fork up and hesitantly begin to eat what I could of the dinner. A surprising wave of relief came over me. Although I had offered to go to Black Creek with her, I really didn't want to, I had so much change in my life that I wasn't sure moving would have been a great idea and I guess Aunt Lorna knew that. It was very kind of her to not force it and even embrace the transition of single, independent and carefree to pretty much the opposite. She had given up what she had to honor my mom's wishes and I really admired her for that.

After finishing dinner and clearing up, Aunt Lorna went into Mom's office to sort through some of the legal stuff that had raised its head and to get her first article started. She was really quite excited to get stuck into it, and it was good to see as she had been coping about as well as I was, though she did try to hide it better.

"Don't stay up too late sweetheart, okay?"

After promising I would switch off no later than eleven, I bid her goodnight and went into the kitchen for a bottle of water to bring up with me.

I'd just closed the fridge when I could hear a quiet scraping at the back door. Frowning slightly I was unsure if I should check it out, I mean, wasn't that the thing the dumb girl does in all the horror movies that results in getting herself killed and I really didn't think Aunt Lorna could do another funeral quite so soon. The noise had stopped as I approached, so there was the answer. It was nothing. Turning on my heel to leave the kitchen, I heard it again in the same place. Mumbling and gathering courage I slowly edge over to the door and peeked out the window there didn't seem to be anything there. Braving it, I put one hand on the door the other on the handle and as I slowly ease it down gently pulling the door open, my mind rationalizing how safe I was being a virgin and, after all, wasn't that one of the horror movie rules too? To survive the killer you had to be a virgin? As I cracked the door open just ever so slightly, my heart began to beat faster, my adrenaline began to pump. I peered around it to investigate the sound as something soft and black ran over my foot. With a yelp and just about holding back a girlie scream, I jumped from the door before quickly regaining my composure as I began a frantic search for the light switch, my heart pounding in my ears. With a flick the room illuminated and revealed a black short haired cat sitting on the stool by the breakfast bar looking at me.

"Jesus kitty, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Laughing now and mostly at myself, I went over to the stool and reaching out to the cat it lifted its head and began to rub against my palm. "You lost? I've not seen you round the neighborhood before."

Feeling around its neck for a collar and finding none, I frowned a little, the cat's soft purrs resonating as it continued to rub itself against my hand.

"Hmmm I wonder if Aunt Lorna will let me keep you?" I said, thinking aloud. The cat lifted a paw and playfully patted my hand as if in encouragement. "Would you like that..." Lifting the cat and holding it at an angle to check out its 'bits' to see what sex it was, I laughed as it stopped purring and started to struggle a little.

"Hold it there tiger, don't want to give you a girl's name and give you a complex."

Laughing as I walked out carrying my new friend, I closed and locked up before bringing him into Aunt Lorna.

"Look who was knocking at the kitchen door just now, he has no collar or tags. Can we keep him until someone posts a missing ad?"

The black ball of fur pretty much curled up in a ball in my arms and snuggled against me, glancing at it then up at my Aunt I could feel the smile growing on my face. "Can we? I'll clean up any mess he leaves, I promise."

"He does appear to be very content there." Laughing softly, she nodded, "On one condition, okay maybe two. First... no matter the mess YOU are the caretaker of the cat so anything he messes or destroys you take care of it and secondly the most important, don't become too attached, if he has an owner you have to give him back... deal?"

My smile widened, as I maneuvered him in my arms to lift him up for inspection, his nose level with mine as I looked him over, "What will we call him? I was thinking Shadow or Cas?"

"Shadow is a cool name, but Cas? Where did that come from?" my Aunt said, now having rounded the desk and she smiled as she stroked him.

"Well you know I love that show on the TV about the two brothers that hunt demons and stuff, there's a character in it that's really funny."

The purrs of contentment coming from this cat were unreal, talk about loving the attention.

"Either would do him, I like Shadow but it's your call sweetheart, he's yours for now."

Aunt Lorna gave one last scratch behind his ear before going back to the desk.

"Okay, Shadow it is. Kind of suits you, though Lightening would maybe suit better seeing as that's the speed you came into the house."

Laughing as I cradled him, I said a final goodnight to Aunt Lorna before going up to my room with my new friend.

I closed the door behind me to keep Shadow in, in a bid to limit where he could do damage before I set him down on the floor, "Right Mr, I hope you did your business outside cause I know I told Aunt Lorna I'd clean up after you, but if we can avoid that I'd appreciate it."

Shadow jumped up onto my bed and sat watching me, his tail slowly drumming against the quilt.

"Oh sure go ahead, make yourself at home."

He watched as I moved around the room his gaze never dropping, "You needn't think you are gonna mess about tonight, I've had a really crap day. Most likely an even crapper one tomorrow." I paused for a second, head tilted in thought, "Crapper? Is that even a word? See? I'm THAT tired."

Kicking my sneakers off and setting them aside, I gripped the edge of my t-shirt, ready to pull it over my head when I caught sight of Shadow, his tail no longer slightly beating against the covers, instead he was completely glued to my movements, his eyes pinned on me and it stupidly unnerved me. I couldn't rationalize why, I just felt uneasy with him staring. He was a cat nothing more, nothing less, I chastised myself. Lifting my vest top and boy shorts I wagged a finger at him and mumbled, "You stay there little freak, no using my room as a litter try okay? I'm gonna change in my bathroom and I will be back in a few seconds."

After changing for bed and brushing my teeth, happy that I had removed what little makeup I had applied earlier today, I frowned seeing the dark rings under my eyes, my makeup had allowed me to camouflage. Putting today's clothes into the hamper and going back into my room, I laughed softly. Shadow had curled up and made himself at home on my pillow. He looked quite lost on my massive king size bed, his little body a ball of black fur and large dark brown almost black eyes...hmm, that was odd. There was something about the color of his eyes that looked oddly familiar. Shaking it off I tidied the last of the books of my bed while Shadow played with the Dream Catcher my mom had gotten for me, his little paws teasing and jabbing at it. I had been having a reoccurring dream over the past few months, it had started a few weeks before Mom and Dad died and after quite a few sleepless nights, Mom brought home this dream catcher for me. She assured me that if not taking the dream away completely that it would at the very least cut the regularity of it. When I asked how she knew this all she said was that she had asked about in college and one of the other professors had sworn by it.

The dream catcher she had gotten me was beautiful, but she'd said that wasn't its purpose. It was like any other I had ever seen except it was had the deepest brown leather strapping wrapped around the outside circle with deep navy blue webbing woven in the circle which had laced in the center of it a symbol mom had said was a Celtic design called The Tree of Life, this was to represent that all is connected. It would also capture any negative or bad dreams in the web so they would never bother the dreamer again. Hanging below it had three sets of two thin brown leather straps, these had beautiful blue and brown feathers dangling from them. The symbol of the Tree of Life in the middle was made with what looked like twined copper wire for roots, trunk and branches and small odd shaped multi colored stones on each branch. It really was beautiful and I have to admit that since I had hung it over the headboard of my bed, my nightmares hadn't been as often as they had been before. I still got them and admittedly, more so since Mom and Dad died, but still not as often as I had been.

"Hey! Leave that alone, that keeps the monsters away."

Smiling as I picked up my new lodger I climbed in under the covers. Shadow curled up in a ball on top of the duvet, his purrs soft and comforting as I settled for the night.

"Now remember fluff ball, no using my room for any cat bombs. If you need to answer the call of nature then wake me."

The cat simply looked up at me for a second before curling up once more, his soft purrs vibrating through the covers.

Where am I? Where did everyone go? Looking round me frantically, my heart thumping in my chest as I scan the class. The teacher and everyone else had just... disappeared. Pushing up from my desk, I made my way out the door into the hall but all of a sudden I wasn't there, instead I was in the middle of nowhere. A clearing surrounded by trees that went as high as the sky, the only light coming through was the red Blood Moon overhead which cast an eerie hue over everything. Glancing back at where I had run from, the door was still there and I could see into the classroom. This wasn't real, was it? Looking around, I thought I could see a soft light off in the distance, just though the gaps in the trees. I started to walk cautiously towards it, occasionally glancing back at the door, uncertain if this was the wisest of ideas. The light was getting brighter as I got closer, but just as I was about to see what it was there was a loud scream.

Stopping in my tracks, my breathing now strained as I tried to remain calm enough to listen. Was that an animal? It couldn't be human. Slowly moving forward, needing to get to where the light was coming from, sensing safety there, I tried to move as quietly as possible. What the hell? Something suddenly blocked the light! I couldn't make out what or who it was but the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I could sense it, it was out there watching... waiting. My heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest as I spun around, trying to see if I could see it though the forestation.

Should I stay here? No, no! It's not safe. Get back into the class! Spinning around in the direction of the door, I start sprinting, desperate to reach what I hoped was safety, but no matter how fast I ran the door just wouldn't get any closer. I could hear movement in amongst the trees and it sounded like it was getting nearer. I was frantic to see what was behind me, wanting to see what the danger was that seemed to stalk me, yet my basic human instinct was kicking in, my need for a safe haven was more prevalent. I put what power I had into my legs to push me harder, faster, further. That seemed to do the trick, the door was slowly getting closer, it was now getting to just a few feet away when I heard the thud of footsteps behind me, and the heavy panting of whatever it was, it picked up the pace as it tried to catch me. I couldn't look back now as the fear of what I might see was now too much, I lunged for the doorway, my body turning midair in my attempt to escape this thing, this creature.

Gasping for air I sprang up to a sitting position on my bed, my heart thundered in my chest as sweat mixed with tears dampened my cheeks and face. My chest heaved as I gasped for breath. I reached out in desperation to switch my light on, needing to chase the dark from the room.

Christ, please? Can I have just one full night's sleep? Please?

Placing my hand over my heart and willing it to calm as I tried to reason with myself that it was all just a dream, a really bad dream but neither less a dream. I felt the need to cuddle my new companion, but looking over the bed I noticed Shadow was gone. Great, I probably scared one of his lives of him with that episode.

"Furball? Shadow? Where did you go?" my voice still sounded a little strained. My tone was just above a whisper because I didn't want to wake Aunt Lorna. My eyes searched the room but there was no sign of him. Getting up my nerve after telling myself to man up, I slipped out of bed and began a search of my room. My door was still locked so he couldn't have gotten out there. As my eyes scanned the room it was then I noticed one of my windows edged open a few inches. My curtains were moving just slightly in the cool autumn breeze. Frowning, I crossed the short distance and reached for the handle. A frown settling on my brows as I sighed. Tugging the frame down with ease I locked the window shut before fixing the curtains closed I glanced out across the yard and what I could see of the neighborhood. The place had an eerie glow, a reddish hue.

Looking up to the sky, I was amazed to see the moon bathed in red... The Blood Moon. The same one that was in my dreams. Shuddering, though not from the cold, I climbed back into bed. Although I was still a little anxious after that dream I was so tired from the lack of sleep these past few nights that I quickly fell off again.

Joshua

Standing there watching her as she slept, the barrier removed, I was happier than a proverbial pig in shit. I had to make it look like 'Shadow' had escaped out the window with the Dreamcatcher, so I had pushed the window open a few inches giving the indication of an escape route before I returned to the bed. I lay there with her, not an hour ago. She had been oblivious to who I really was, telling me the story of the talisman that had hung off her bed frame. The story of her nightmares and how her mom had protected her with that and it was really poetic that she didn't know that the one she was talking to then was the one who she was being protected from, but then how could she know?

Taking one last look at her, setting her to memory I reached out and careful not to wake her I brushed a stray golden strand of hair off her beautiful face and with a rueful smirk on my lips, I focused my energy on my house, my room to be exact and closed my eyes, picturing myself there, seconds later I opened them again to find myself standing in the center of my room the stolen talisman now at my feet, "We need to get rid of you." and I knew the perfect spot. Nothing would stand between Sophie and me, nothing nor no one.

The Curse of Survival.

By Ash Hartwell

The moon shone blood-red through the drifting clouds of dust, the remains of a civilisation burnt to ash and scattered to the wind. The fine, grey flakes coated every surface and invaded every breath, making masks a necessity when outdoors, even for a minute. The atmosphere, so much more than just air, hung heavy, weighed down by the dust, the constant shroud of dusk and the icy chill of a world devoid of sunlight. The sun was still up there but its life-giving warmth and light barely broke through the swirling dust, leaving a barren landscape in which little could survive. In which little had survived.

But here we were, a desperate and disparate band of humanity somehow clinging to existence among the death and decay. We had no life, just a constant struggle to survive. I'm not sure we even had humanity, not in the true sense of the word, not the humanity people talked of before the bombs and missiles reduced the industrialised globe to a spinning rock. We were together only because our survival depended on it, a microcosmic society that made Lord of the Flies look like a governmental self-help manual.

I stood alone on the rampart of our castle, a real Norman castle whose walls had stood so long a mere nuclear holocaust wasn't going to blow them away, and watched the road. Our foraging party was almost a day overdue and supplies of fuel, both wood for the fires and diesel for the few supply trucks we'd managed to keep roadworthy, was running low. We had sufficient water, we used seawater for washing manually pumped up from the moat, and a natural spring of water filtered by the nearby chalk hills gave us drinking water. It, like everything in this bleak world, was contaminated but the prospect of dying early from cancer wasn't high on my, or anyone else's list of worries. But food, or lack of, was a common cause of dissent within the group and the reason I was anxious for the trucks' return.

"Have you seen anything?" Will asked, climbing the last few stone steps to join me on the smooth stone walkway that ran the entire circumference of the castle wall.

I give him an exasperated shrug. "It'll be dark soon." It was a simple statement, an observation, but we both knew my words alluded to so much more. "Any luck with the radio?"

Will shook his head, the dirty yellow bandanna he wore across his nose and mouth fluttering in the breeze. "Nothing but static, but that's more than we got this morning." He tried to sound upbeat but I could hear the tension in his voice.

"I knew a trip up to London was too risky. Survivor groups up there are tribal, consumed by controlling territory and driven by power, and there are too many mutants. Our trucks were ripe pickings, easy supplies for the local tribe and fresh meat for the mutants." My anger threatened to boil over, just surviving was a pressure cooker of emotions, stress and fear, and occasionally it got the better of me, of all of us.

"Calm it mate, we don't know for sure they're lost. They could've just broken down, those old crates are hardly reliable at the best of times." Will patted me on the shoulder as he spoke. He was my oldest friend. We'd hidden together in the basement of our office block when the first reports of missile launches reached the news. When we dug ourselves out ten days later, we knew we would drastically enhance our chances of survival by staying together as it was obvious neither of us had any family left. The estate I'd lived on my entire life, including the school my kids had attended, was nothing but a smouldering pile of rubble. We didn't even find any bodies, a whole community vaporised in an instant.

"My gut tells me different, Will." I started down the steps heading for the castle's main hall which served as the group's community area. I'd not got more than halfway down the first flight when Will called excitedly down the stairwell, his voice echoing of the bare stone walls.

"There's lights out on the road."

I yelled down the stairs, warning the others of the approaching vehicles before returning to the cold ramparts above. As I emerged into the dark night air, Will pointed out across the moat to the distant road approaching the castle from the north. Three sets of headlights were moving towards us, their progress slow. "Is it them?" I asked, not thinking that he could see as much as I could.

"I dunno, it's too dark to tell," he replied as a third member of our party joined us on the rampart. She was still trying to pull on her mask, her once bleach blonde hair whipping around in the wind as she pulled the dark material over her nose. She pulled her hair into an untidy ponytail and stuffed a baseball cap on her head, her eyes sparkling as she stared excitedly into the darkness at the approaching lights.

"Steady Abs, we don't know it's them," I said, trying to calm her down.

"Gotta be them, who else could it be?" Abs spoke quickly, the impatience obvious in her tone. I considered telling her about all the other possibilities that came to mind, like marauders intent on helping themselves to our castle, the injured remains of our foraging team, mutants in search of flesh, but decided against it. Why snuff out her hope needlessly when it was scarce at the best of times.

"Just wait for them to reach the outer gate before we lower the drawbridge," I reminded her of the strict protocol we had in place to protect the castle.

"Okay! Jesus, you're so fucking anal," Abs responded.

"If being anal keeps us alive then I'm happy with that." The three of us watched as the lights drew closer. From the castle courtyard below I heard the sounds of people preparing for the convoy's return, or to repel an attack should it turn out the trucks were carrying hostiles or worse, mutants.

The lights kept coming, I could just about make out the distant rumble of their massive engines as we waited impatiently on our high wall. After a short while the lights swung east and we got a glimpse of the trucks' profiles, before they rounded the final bend and headed straight towards the castle.

"That's our trucks, I'm sure of it," said Will. Abs' excitement had become infectious.

"Let's wait until they reach the gate," I said cautiously then, as the other two glanced at each other I added, "I know, anal."

The trucks rolled closer, the roar from their engines filling the night sky. More people came to join us on the rampart eager to witness their return, some speculating on the cause of their delay, most just glad they'd returned at all. Abs had more reason than most to herald their return, her boyfriend and father to her unborn baby, Jase, was a member of the foraging team.

With a series of loud hisses and creaking of breaks the convoy came to a standstill a few yards from the edge of the moat. One by one they killed their headlights to leave the area in complete darkness. Further along the walkway came the dull throb of a generator jumping unhappily to life, bathing the trucks in the harsh yellow glare of spotlights hanging from the castle's thick outer walls.

The small crowd on the wall fell silent with expectation as they waited for the truck doors to open. The tension was palpable. We needed to see who was aboard each truck before we could lower the bridge, offering them admittance. We'd worked hard to make the castle a secure haven in which we could live and weren't about to fall prey to the oldest trick in the book.

One by one the truck doors opened, the occupants climbing down to stand side-by-side on the cracked tarmac. Their body language told me all I needed to know, there was no need to count them. The foraging party had left with six members but only five now stood before me. A murmur spread through the small crowd stood on the ramparts as they too realised the party had returned one member light.

Will waved his arm to confirm we'd identified the occupants of each truck and they began to climb back into their cabs to wait for us to lower the drawbridge. I glanced at Will but he just stared out across the wall at the dark hills to the north, unwilling to make eye contact. He, like I, had worked out who was missing and neither of us wanted the job of telling Abs.

"Why's there only five of them, where's Jase? I didn't see Jase! Don't lower the bridge until we've seen them all. You know the rules..." Her voice trailed away as her brain began to assimilate the information. I heard her sob in the darkness then the trucks engines fired into life, drowning out her grief, before they rolled across the narrow drawbridge and through the open gate.

Ab's ran from the ramparts, barging her way through the crowd to descend the steps first. Will and I followed at a more reserved pace, mindful of the dangers posed by the stone steps and considerable drop should someone get knocked off their feet. When we entered the courtyard, Abs was already running to the nearest truck. She pulled the door open and looked up expectantly into the cab, then after a second ran to the next truck to repeat the process. After the third truck rolled to a stop and she'd thrown its door wide open to find no trace of her boyfriend, she sank to her knees and howled in anguish her head thrown back. Then, as the watching crowd hung back in the shadows around the courtyard, she threw herself prostrate on the muddy ground and sobbed.

After an awkward few moments, where we stood as silent witnesses to her grief while lost in our own, two women hurried forward to console her. Helping her to her feet they half dragged, half carried her away from the trucks towards the castle's heavy oak door and the warmth of the living quarters beyond. I watched her go, too resigned to our plight to be able to shed a tear for her or her dead boyfriend. Living, as we did, with despair and death every day part of me couldn't help feel that in some way, Jase was the lucky one. Survival in this living hell was a curse to be carried like a plague.

I approached forage party who were busying themselves with opening the tailgates of the trucks so unloading and storing the recovered supplies could begin. Visibly shaken by Ab's reaction they no doubt felt responsible for her lover's death. It was the way of this new world, we looked out for one another, every one of us had a role to play in the continued survival of our community. The loss of one affected us all.

"What happened?" I shook Greg's hand as I asked the inevitable awkward question. Greg was the unofficial leader of the party, a task he accepted with relish as a former army engineer. I think he enjoyed the challenge, the danger, far better to die outside fighting than live hiding behind thick stone walls.

"We were at a warehouse, one of those distribution centres, in Woolwich. We scouted around for a while, the place was quiet, we loaded some tinned food, clothes and blankets, then Jase found a storeroom marked for medical supplies." Greg shrugged, momentarily lost for words. He looked me straight in the eye as if imploring me to believe him, and then continued, "The place was so quiet... We never thought... They just came out when he opened the door... Rats, the size of cats, hundreds of them, he never stood a chance..."

I patted his shoulder in what I hoped was a sympathetic gesture. It was obvious he felt personally responsible, as if he should have known about the mutants. The rats, of all the mutants, were the worst and they were everywhere, the people, those left, were easy to deal with. They scavenged in ones and twos and moved slowly, but the rats hunted. "Go inside and get some sleep, you look exhausted, I'll get the trucks unloaded."

Greg shook his head, "I need to keep busy. If I close my eyes I see them swarming over his body, tearing his flesh from the bone before he'd even hit the ground."

At that moment Abs burst through the door and sprinted for the steps up to the ramparts chased by the two women who'd helped her a few minutes before. "Leave me alone!" She screamed as she vaulted up the first few steps. I sprinted across the courtyard, overtaking her pursuers before they reached the stairway, and followed her up taking the steps two at a time.

"Abs! Wait!" I yelled at her as she reached the top and disappeared from view. Seconds later I ran out onto the stone ledge that ringed the castle's ancient defensive wall.

"I can't do this anymore." She stood on the wall's outer rampart a few yards away, her back to the night sky the steep drop to the abyss of the moat a few inches from her heels.

"Abs, come down. This isn't what Jase would want. Think of your child, his child." I spoke as calmly as I could, my breath coming in short gulps following the race up the stairs.

"I can't. I can't bring a child into this world, it wouldn't be fair. What would he have to look forward to? Death, that's what. What if he's born a mutant, we don't know, then what?"

"But he may not, we don't know, you said it yourself." I tried to reason with her. "And this world? It will get better. One day the sun will shine longer, crops will grow, and the moon won't always be stained with the blood of the dead."

"Not soon enough. Jase was all I had and now he's gone and I want to join him. There's something wrong with the world when living holds more fear than dying." She edged backwards, her heels inching out into the void.

"No!" I lunged forward my hands scrambling at the air between us as she toppled away from me. As she disappeared into the darkness a smile spread across her face as she freed herself from the curse of being a survivor.

By the Light of the Blood Moon

By

Richard Schiver

He moved down the steep trail with a sure footedness that only came to those who had lived their entire lives among the mountains and valleys of the Appalachians. His was a sturdy people who asked for little more than to be left alone. They had learned to survive in these lonely places through a combination of mule-like determination, tempered with just a touch of magic, fueled by a belief that all things contained a soul, and the dead never really departed.

Around him, the forest was alive with the chatter of small animals going about the daily ritual of survival. The leaves of the trees blazing with the colors of fall, further heightened by the red and gold of the setting sun as it sank behind the bulk of Ender's Ridge, casting the valley below him in deep shadows that held the secrets of the forest in its ebony grasp.

He was on a mission to save his older brother, Taylor, who had fallen into the cold waters of Whispering Creek which lay at the foot of the hill, he now traversed. The nights had become colder and Taylor had come down with the chilblains, he'd taken to bed where he lay half awake, sweating and shivering all at the same time. Granny had done everything she could for him, but even her powers were limited, and the only alternative was a moonlight trip to Enders field.

"You don't pay no mind to what others say, you listen to your Granny," she had told him before he left with the last of the evening sun casting the hills in a fiery light, and deep shadows pooling in the valleys between. Shadows that hid all manner of frightening things that slithered and crawled through darkened forests.

The cemetery was atop Ender's Ridge, on the other side of Fiddler's Hollow, where it was said the ghosts of the dead gathered along the banks of Whispering Creek as they tried to lure unwary travelers into their shadowy embrace.

"One of the nightwalkers has got their hooks into him." Granny had decided after her usual dose of Ginseng root and willow bark tea had done little to dispel the shivers or break the fever that gripped Taylor. He'd taken to whispering in his sleep, crying out about shadowy shapes that filled the room about him, confirming for Granny that one of those shadowy things had hold of him.

She told him that in order to save Taylor, he had to drink a tea made from the leaves of a new branch taken by the light of the blood moon from a weeping willow growing in Ender's Field, a small cemetery next to the stone church that once stood there.

Granny knew things, better than most others, for she'd been around longer than anyone else. She had even picked the leaves of a weeping willow by the light of the blood moon herself when she was just a child.

The thought of the nightwalkers waiting for him in the shadowy depths of Fiddlers Hollow, sent a chill dancing along his spine like the bony fingers of the dead stroking his back. He stopped as he neared that line between night and day, the .22 in his hand slick with sweat against the flesh of his fingers. The line marched inexorably towards him as the setting sun slowly sank beneath the line of Ender's Ridge, and he took a step back as it swallowed the toes of his boots.

The shadows enveloped him quickly. As they did he became aware of the silence around him as the birds and animals that once filled the forest with their life settled in for the night. Hiding from those things that ruled the dark.

As the shadows darkened, he remained rooted in place, his earlier confidence at being selected for such an important task fleeing in the face of the reality of the forest at night. He became what he had always been, just another twelve year old boy.

"One of the nightwalkers has got their hooks into him." Granny's voice whispered in his mind.

Nightwalkers were well known by those who lived among the hills and valleys of their part of the Appalachians. They were the spirits of the dead who refused to move on, clinging to the places the living gathered, wandering through the shadowy forest depths as they sought their bodies, or a likely host to give them another taste of life. They naturally gravitated towards the sound of moving water, as it was one of the few sounds that remained in the forest after the night reasserted its dominance.

As he stood rooted in place, he heard the soft sigh of a breeze through the immobile trunks of the trees around him. The trunks shimmered in the dark like silent sentinels standing perpetual guard, in ordered rows that vanished into the night. From the darkness below came the soft gurgle of flowing water passing over naked stone.

He had to get moving, his brother was depending on him, he couldn't let his fear stop him. Mentally he pushed himself, and hesitantly placed one foot in front of the other, his head on a swivel as he followed the trail down into the black depths of the valley.

At Whispering Creek he stopped, his eyes had adjusted to the dark and he had noticed that it was slowly growing brighter, as the approaching moonrise cast the ridge above him in a blood tinged, pale light. Stars twinkled in the sky above the canopy of leaves, following their endless trek across the cosmos. The night had grown colder, carrying the chill of winters approach. A fallen log crossed the narrow creek, its surface worn smooth by the passage of untold feet, the bare wood glowing in the pale light.

Something stood in the center of the log, a shadowy form hunched over at the waist, immobile, daring him to cross.

"They fear the living as much as we fear them," Granny had once told him as they spoke about the nightwalkers.

Mustering his courage, digging as deeply as he could, he spoke in what he hoped was a masculine voice, "Who dares stand in my path, move aside!" but it came out as a fear choked squeak.

The shadow moved, gliding across the log towards him, and Charley took a step back. He brought up his twenty two, aware of the futility of doing so, but seeking what comfort it afforded him.

"Another seeks the virgin leaves," a soft voice whispered, mingling with the soft gurgle of the moving waters, as much a part of it as not.

"There's someone else?"

"A young girl," the disembodied voice whispered.

"When?"

Silence greeted his question and when he was sure he wasn't going to get a reply the shadow moved another step closer.

"It's been many years," the shadow sighed as it slowly moved even closer. Charley took another step back, opening the space between them.

"I can show you."

He detected a note of desperation in that whispering voice, making him aware of just how close he was to losing himself. Then who would pick the virgin willow leaves by the light of the blood moon?

"You don't pay no mind to what others say, you listen to your Granny," her words whispered in his mind.

"I have no time for the likes of you," Charley said, his voice growing stronger with renewed confidence. As if on cue, the full moon broke over the ridge above, spreading through the forest with a pale effervesce that pushed back the shadows. Revealing the nightwalker for what it really was, just an empty shade filled with the memories of a time long past. Memories that could do little harm to the living, unless they let it. The crossing was bathed in a bloody pale light, the shadow that had blocked his way having faded into the past.

There was power in the light of the blood moon, the power over life and death, over the living and the dead, over the past and the present. Granny had once said it could bring life where once there was none, but that power came at a price for all who dared dabble in it.

She had warned him to not listen to anyone, or anything he might encounter, and already he had stopped to speak with the remnants of a past life. But something the shadow had said nagged at him. Had his Granny encountered the same spirit when she traveled to Ender's Field by the light of the blood moon? It had spoken of a little girl.

But time was wasting, he couldn't stand here and debate the merits of what this memory had said. He had to push on, to the top of Ender's Ridge and the weeping willow that inhabited the cemetery.

With the path lit by the full moon, Charley wasted little time reaching the summit of the ridge. Emerging from the forest into an overgrown field he saw the soot blackened foundation of the church, and behind it Ender's Field where the dead rested in an endless sleep, and the spreading branches of a weeping willow that offered the only hope of salvation for his older brother.

A fire in '42, had taken the church, leaving its foundation as the only reminder of what had once been. The steel cross had fallen from the steeple during the blaze, impaling itself upside down in what was once the manicured front lawn. Over the years it had been neglected, becoming an overgrown field. There had been talk of rebuilding the church, and salvaging the cross, but that's all it ever amounted to. The conversation usually ended with the admonishment that the destruction of the church had been gods will.

Charley had heard rumors, whispered tales of pagan rituals that had taken place in the church before its destruction, of bloody sacrifices to the very same blood moon that he now walked beneath as he crossed the open field.

A strong breeze stirred the high weeds and in the staccato of the dead stalks beating against one another he heard the whispered voices of the dead crying out. Beseeching him, begging for forgiveness, for one more chance to escape the chilled grasp of the lonely grave.

Who was he to help the dead? As it was he had little power over his own life, much less any say over how one would spend eternity.

Passing through the shadows of what remained of the church a stone dropped with a clatter to the ground, stopping him in his track. From the ebony depths came the rustle of fabric, the soft sigh of someone, or something, breathing. He stopped and peered into the pools of emptiness swirling within the black depths of the foundation. As he did he felt it reaching out to him, groping blindly through the night, caressing his thoughts with ghostly fingers that carried the bone numbing chill of the lonely grave.

Images flipped through his mind, snapshots of the past tinged with age. He saw the church as it once was. Standing tall and proud, the silvery cross atop the steeple catching the sun's rays in a spark of light that offered solace to those who called these mountains home. He saw the pastor at the door comforting his flock as they departed at the end of another Sunday sermon. Just beneath the surface of these images, like a negative that showed only the opposite of what the image revealed, he saw the truth.

The church stood upon a sacred spot, not because it was a church, but because those who came before knew this place to be a nexus, a meeting place of multiple realities. Where the past, the present, and the future all came together. It was a place where time stopped and eternity was within ones grasp. But only on the nights when the blood moon rode across the night sky. As it had the night the church caught on fire. It was no hobo seeking warmth that started the blaze, but the culmination of the rituals that had taken place within those hallowed walls. They had tried to bring something across but someone had stopped them, and the church had burned to the ground as a result.

Who?

Did it really matter?

"You don't pay no mind to what others say, you listen to your Granny," his Granny's words whispered in his mind, drawing his gaze away from the past, and pushing him towards the Cemetery behind the church. For a brief moment he had stood upon the threshold of discovering what had happened that night. Like a name lurking upon the tip of ones tongue, it teased with a familiarity that

A rusted iron gate clung to the fence with a single hinge that teetered on the point of breaking. Awash in the light of the full moon that hung in the night sky like a drop of blood, the long branches of a weeping willow caressed the manicured grounds of the cemetery. The tree stood in the center, surrounded by crooked stones that noted the last resting place of those who had been buried there.

Quickly he crossed to the tree, anxious to be done with this task and back on his way. From the shadowy depths beneath the tree he heard the sound of a child crying softly and felt his heart climbing into his throat when a small shadow detached itself from the deeper shadows beneath the tree. A child stepped into view, her hair pulled back into pigtails that hung down her back. She was dressed in what looked like a flour sack dress he'd only ever seen in old pictures his Granny had shown him of herself when she was a child.

More shadowy shapes followed the little girl, emerging from beneath the tree, the light of the blood moon giving life to their features where once there was none. Men and women, old and young, children and teens all gathered around him, drawn by the warm spark of his life. They reached for him with shadowy hands, caressing his essence with a ghostly touch that left the chill of the grave in its wake, every touch drawing away the heat that was his life.

He struggled against the onslaught of the dead, their memories burying him beneath an avalanche of remorse. All but the little girl, who stood to the side watching with her hands folded before her.

From the church it came, drawn by the many voices of the dead that cried out for relief, something as old as the hills upon which he stood. There was no remorse in its touch, no desire for life, only the mind numbing terror of what if represented. The high grass parted before its invisible form, a massive shadow trailing it, cast by the stark light of the blood moon. It bore no semblance to any living thing he was aware of. A hulking shape moving with strong, purposeful strides.

It stopped at the iron gate, unable to come any closer, its essence not permitted to cross hallowed ground. As long as Charley remained in the cemetery he was safe from whatever lived in the shadowy basement of the destroyed church. But the moment he stepped out he would become fair game, a morsel to tease this unearthly beast.

The spirits that had been drawn by his presence vanished when that ancient thing approached, fleeing to the safety of their graves. The only one to remain was the little girl who stood silently at his side as he turned and retrieved the leaves he needed. As he worked he kept glancing back at the iron fence, at the high weeds beyond that were stirred not by the wind but the unseen presence that appeared to be pacing back and forth impatiently.

Finishing his task he sat down with his back against one of the tombstones, glancing once at the blood moon as it marched slowly across the night sky and the universe beyond spun about on its myriad orbits. He had never felt as alone as he did at the moment.

What was he gonna do?

The little girl stepped over in front of him, her chubby hands still folded in front of her, the trademark of the flour sack dress dark against the lighter color of the burlap.

"He can hurt you," she said in a soft voice, "only if you allow it."

It made no sense, how could he possibly stop such a creature from hurting him?

"Look into your heart, there the truth lies."

Again she was speaking in riddles but with no other options available to him he did as she said.

Look into your heart.

He didn't want to, he knew all too well what lay there, just as he understood with a maturity beyond his years that his anger was misdirected. It wasn't Taylor's fault he had fallen into the creek. It was one of those things that just happens. But he still couldn't shake the conviction, a belief he kept hidden from everyone else, that had the shoe been on the other foot, and it was Charley lying in bed racked by the chills, that Taylor would not have come to retrieve the only thing that could cure him.

Would he?

The little girl nodded in response, as if she could hear his thoughts, and she reached out with one hand. Taking her hand into his own he pushed himself to his feet and let her lead him to the iron gate. Here he felt the presence that waited on the other side of the fence, and he suddenly understood what it was.

What waited beyond the gate was the essence of his own shadow, his repressed self, revealed by the power of the blood moon. It was the evil that lay at the heart of every soul. We all have hate in our hearts, though we may present ourselves publicly as tolerant we're really not, and beneath the light of the blood moon only the truth could be revealed.

Glancing from the now silent beast to the little girl something that had been nagging at him ever since he'd met her suddenly flourished in his mind like a delicate flower opening to receive the life giving light from the blood moon. The trademark on her flour sack dress, it exactly matched the one in the photo his Granny had shown him. Which could mean only one thing, the little girl was a memory of his grandmother's, a shade bound to this place for one reason and one reason only, to help Charley when his turn came to retrieve the virgin leaves of the weeping willow.

He saw what had really happened here with a startling clarity. His Granny had come to this place as a child to retrieve the virgin leaves of the weeping willow by the light of the blood moon. The timing of her arrival had been preordained and she had come, driven by her love of another. It was her love that stopped the ritual that resulted in the destruction of the church.

As a consequence a part of her had become bound to this place, a remnant of what she was, waiting for the next to come and release her from her curse. He had been sent her not only to gather the materials needed to save Taylor, but to rescue the innocence his Granny had lost when she stopped the ritual.

In this place there was no not knowing. The past the present and the future lay open for all to see, and one's daily choices helped to guide their destiny. He understood too that when he left this mountaintop, a small part of himself would remain, a remnant of what he was would wait patiently for the next who would come to gather the virgin leaves of the weeping willow by the light of a blood moon.

Calendar Curse

By Donald Armfield

Cobblestone walk ways glistening in the moonlight,

the roaring, torrential downpour calming to a fine mist.

My cue for home bound to outrun the second drenching.

Reverberating sounds from my hurried strut,

bouncing off the mid-town dwelling structures.

Low-hanging clouds, befog the glow of the streetlights.

An uncanny howl lingers overhead, alarming my surroundings.

The hair on my arms rise and pinch my flesh with freight.

That sudden feeling of being watched, heightens my senses.

My hurried strut, increasing to a full on dash,

but freeze before I caught wind, at the pair of eyes ahead.

The red lustrous pair stares dead, placid of all ocular movements.

A growl portrays a need, a hunger to feed under the full moon.

The glowing eyes become a ponderous shadow, lurking.

A deathly prowl drawn to my sudden raising pulse rate.

The beastly creature hurdled out of the darkness, to maul it's prey

me; the frightened one. Ensnared under it's elongated claws,

with superior strength, licking it's chops exposing razor-sharp fangs.

I remember closing my eyes to except fate, a pillaging of my soul.

My astral body unwillingly leaving behind my solid form as the living

Looking down from above at my remains, knowing now what's after, Life.

The gaping wound in my chest cavity, chunks of viscera, my gory remains

ravaged by the wolf-like creature, salivating & munching on my corpse.

Running off back into the shadows, it's drab silver fur drenched in my blood.

What happens next? I feel empty, lacking of something, a strong desire to feed.

This calendar curse is overwhelming, I can no longer fight this dread inside me,

the lunar phrase will be completely illuminated tonight. A feast it should be.

About the Authors

S. K. Gregory lives in Northern Ireland. She is the founder of Blood Moon Rising, a bi-annual event for authors through Facebook. She writes horror and urban fantasy novels. You can visit her website at: www.storyteller-skgregory.weebly.com

M. L. Sparrow lives in the UK and writes romance, fantasy and young adult novels. She enjoys travelling around the world. You can visit her website at: http://mlsparrow.wix.com/mlsparrow

Michael Noe is a horror writer from Barberton Ohio. His short stories have been featured in a variety of anthologies and is the author of the novella Legacy. His second novel The Darkness Of The Soul is coming soon from Flat Lip Press. He is a huge horror and hair metal fan. You can find him here https://www.facebook.com/michaelnoeslegacy/

Kat Gracey lives in the UK and is a big horror fan. She writes about witches and werewolves, but loves everything about the supernatural. You can visit her website at: www.witchesandwerewolves.co.uk

Roma Gray is the author of a collection of short stories that she plans on adapting into full length novels. She has recently released the first book. An animal lover, she plans on donating part of her proceeds to animal charities. You can visit her website at:

http://trickortreatthrillers.com

K. A. Denver lives in Northern Ireland and runs a yearly paranormal event. She is working on her first novel which she will be releasing soon. You can visit her at: https://www.facebook.com/KADenver

Ash Hartwell's stories have appeared in over 30 anthologies. His own collection of short stories - Zombies, Vamps and Fiends was published last year by JEA and he is currently working on his first novel. He can often be found lurking around Facebook or at Ash Hartwell | Author of horror novels

Richard was born in Frostburg, Maryland, in the winter of '58' and currently lives eight miles away. A five-year stint with the military allowed him to see what he wanted of the world. Married with four grown children and eleven grandchildren, he and his wife provide a home to four pets that are spoiled beyond rotten. In addition to writing daily he works a full time job in retail, and piddles around in his wood-shop making one mess after another when time permits.   
Richard can be found online at:  
Facebook: http://www.facebook/RichardSchiver

Donald Armfield is a writer and poet. He lives in the US and writes bizzaro horror fiction, his latest release is called Hung Hounds. You can visit him at:

http://www.facebook.com/donald.armfield
