"Moonlight Mystery" by PD Alleva

Moonlight Mystery

by PD Alleva

I woke up covered in blood under the crisp autumn night. A chill passes through me, cringing my spine. Something catches in my throat, and I roll over on my side to cough it up. Struggling for air, my eyes pop out of my skull, straining to expel what’s in my throat, releasing blood and bile across the autumn leaves. Fresh tears pool in my eyeballs when I see the body lying dead under the moonlight. 

I scrambled away, startled, my heart thundering against my chest, rising to a sitting position then scanning across the trees, looking, listening. Listening to the subtle wind howl like whispers through the night. Nothing. Nothing but the quiet and the wind, attempting to get my bearings, trying to think. To remember. To know what the hell happened. Who’s the dead person? Why am I covered in blood?

The face of the dead is not familiar. I scan across his eyes, his cold dead eyes staring at nothing. Staring at me. A bullet hole prominent in his forehead. His pale skin bathed in moonlight. A branch snaps from somewhere in the woods. My breath hitches in my throat, and every bone tightens with fear. Cautiously, I lift myself to a crouched position, not wanting to stand in case someone is out there, refusing to be in their line of sight. I scan the dead and then scan the woods again. All thoughts erased like an Etch-A-Sketch when I swallow hard with a gasp then freeze. 

There’s someone out there. In the dark woods. I can feel their eyes roaming over me, smelling the blood. Inhaling my fear. Shaking now. My hands are shaking, the blood cooling under the autumn breeze, wet and slick across my shredded clothes. 

Another branch snaps, this time closer than before. I need to run. I tell myself to run, but my feet refuse my command. Instead, my torso shifts unnaturally, sending shockwaves of agony rippling through my ribcage. With gritted teeth and a trembling hand, I push my shirt up. There are three lacerations across my ribs, and now that I see it, I can feel more across my back. 

Another branch followed by a heavy footstep in the leaf-covered cold earth.

I see eyes now. Silvery eyes with the faintest trace of red. The body lost in shadow, all I see are the eyes followed by more then suddenly the forest is littered with eyes staring, drinking me in. I steal another look at the dead when another branch snaps and I take off running. Sprinting to the edge of the forest to the dirt road when the first rays of twilight nip above the tree line. 

Covered in blood, I raced home with a thousand questions looping through my head, bouncing off my skull, relentless in their pursuit of truth. The entire night is a blur. I don’t even know what day it is. Or where the road will lead. 

What will Mom think? Covered in blood, I’ll have to sneak into my bedroom, hoping she’s sleeping when I arrive.

_____

Did I get away with murder? That’s the question I’ve been asking every single day for the last month. I don’t think so. Considering there was a bullet hole through the guy’s forehead, and I don’t own a gun, nor did I find one that night. Although it’s not like I looked for one either. The dead guy could have had it, and I could have used it on him instead of him on me, but I don’t know. I have no memory of that night at all. 

I snuck through my bedroom window that morning. Mom never stirred, nor has she asked questions about my recently strange behavior. It’s as if my senses are heightened, but that could just be a side effect of the paranoia. I’m certain someone has been following me. Hunting me. Everywhere I go, I can smell something off. The faintest trace of iron permeates the air, and I can’t stop eating. Always famished. Always ravenous, haunted by silver eyes in the darkness. 

They come to me in my nightmares with messages of carnage and blood. I see them between the trees while driving through the woods from work to home. At night, they are always there, waiting as if expecting some interaction in the future. 

Now night is arriving with its purple legion, bathing the woods in an ethereal attack. I can hear someone outside my house, walking cautiously across the field to the door. Stealth like a hunter locked in on its prey. Thank God Mom is away. It’s just me and my paranoia. I’m shaky, and I can’t get enough food in my belly. My stomach wrenches with toxicity. I’m hot and flustered, dripping sweat. 

The hunter is closer now, I can hear the controlled rhythm of his breathing, but I also know they are here. The silver eyes embedded in the dark night. I can hear the heartbeat of my attacker. It burns rage into my brain. Listening intently, my flesh turns hot like an inferno. The wind howls outside the small cottage where I live. My nose curls, sniffing. 

A knock on my door. 

A howl from the woods tightens my bones. 

I hear something pounce outside. Hear tears and grunts, ripping flesh, devouring bones. A gunshot echoes through the woods followed by trampling, pounding paws when everything turns ethereal, like flutters of electricity cascading into a tunnel. At the end of that tunnel, the silvery eyes exist. They are in the window. Every window. Surrounded and alone when the pain arrives like white hot heat. My stomach rolls in anguish, buckling my knees. I’m on the floor, writhing in agony.

That’s when the change occurs. Change brought on by pain, swelling every bone with an eternal scream.

The silver eyes of the wolves enter, then lead me to feed on the hunter my pack has finally claimed.