Whispers of the blood moon

Sylvia stared out the window of the old car as it creaked down the winding road. The trees on either side were so tall and dark that it felt like the branches were reaching out to grab her. She shivered even though the sun was just starting to set. “Are we there yet?” she asked, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be. Aunt May didn’t answer at first. She was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping nervously on her knee. Finally, she said, “Soon, Sylvia. Be patient. You’ll see. Bologna Ridge is… special.” Sylvia frowned. “Special? How?” Aunt May didn’t answer, just gave her that kind of look that made Sylvia feel like she wasn’t supposed to ask questions. Sylvia sighed and went back to watching the trees. Something about the forest made her feel like someone was watching her. She thought it was probably just her imagination, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. The road finally ended at a large village surrounded by thick walls of stone and iron gates. The houses were beautiful, bigger and older than any Sylvia had ever seen. Their windows were clean and shiny, reflecting the last light of the sunset. But something about the place was… off. The streets were empty. Not a single dog barked. Not a single bird sang. And all the windows had heavy curtains drawn, like the villagers were hiding from something. “Here we are,” Aunt May said, parking in front of a tall, dark stone house. It had vines crawling up the walls and a wooden door that looked so old it seemed like it could crumble if anyone pushed it too hard. Sylvia’s stomach did a weird flip. “This… is it?” Sylvia asked, trying to sound brave. “Yes,” Aunt May said softly. “Our new home. It will be good for you. A fresh start.” Sylvia wanted to believe her, but the way the village felt made her stomach twist. Everything was too quiet. Everything was too perfect. She felt like someone had pressed pause on life and she had been dropped into a picture that was waiting for something to move. Her aunt led her inside. The house smelled faintly of flowers and old wood. There were shelves lined with jars of dried herbs and glass bottles that caught the fading sunlight and turned it into tiny rainbows. Sylvia thought it was kind of magical, like stepping into a fairy tale. But the feeling of being watched didn’t leave her. “Your room is the one at the top of the stairs,” Aunt May said. “You’ll like it.” Sylvia trudged up the stairs and opened the door. The room was big, bigger than her old room back home. It had a window that looked out over the village and the forest beyond. The moon would be right there if she looked at it at night. And Sylvia had a feeling she would. She unpacked her things quietly. Her suitcase was full of her favorite books and her sketchpad. She tried to ignore the eerie feeling that the trees outside the window were whispering to each other. Later that night, Sylvia couldn’t sleep. She kept hearing little sounds outside her window. The wind moved the branches, or maybe it wasn’t just the wind. She felt drawn to the moon, which was rising now, huge and red and glowing like fire. Her heart started beating faster, not from fear exactly, but from something else she couldn’t explain. Curiosity finally got the better of her. She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window. She had never seen the moon like this before. It seemed bigger, almost close enough to touch. It wasn’t just bright. It felt alive. And then she saw him. A boy was standing at the edge of the forest, looking straight at her window. He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. His eyes glowed silver, and the glow seemed to reach her all the way up to her room. Sylvia gasped and stumbled back. Her heart felt like it had jumped into her throat. “Who… who is that?” she whispered to herself. Before she could think more, the boy raised a hand slowly, like he was warning her, and said one word. “Go.” Sylvia’s mind raced. Go? Where? Why? But she couldn’t move. The boy’s gaze pinned her to the spot. She felt like he wasn’t just looking at her. He was looking into her. Into everything about her. Into the way her heart raced, into the way her hands shook. She felt like he could see her thoughts. Then the moonlight changed. It flickered as if the red moon had a pulse. And just like that, the boy disappeared into the shadows of the forest. Sylvia stayed by the window for a long time, staring out into the dark trees. Her heart was still pounding, but part of her wanted to go down into the forest and find him. She didn’t know why. The next day at school, everything seemed normal, but Sylvia couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong. Everyone stared at her, whispered behind her back, or avoided her completely. The village kids were polite but cold, like they were all hiding secrets she wasn’t supposed to know. And then there was Phoebe. Phoebe was pretty, with shiny blonde hair and green eyes that sparkled with mischief. But the moment Sylvia saw her, she knew trouble was coming. Phoebe walked straight up to Sylvia and Damian, who was sitting alone in the corner of the classroom. She grabbed Damian’s arm and said, “Don’t talk to her. She’s new.” Sylvia frowned. She didn’t know why Phoebe seemed so angry at her already. Phoebe smirked, “He doesn’t need new friends.” Damian didn’t answer. He just looked down at the desk and said nothing. Sylvia could feel the tension crackling in the air. Something about Damian made her feel safe and nervous at the same time. At lunchtime, Sylvia tried to eat quietly, but she could feel the whispers. “She’s glowing,” one girl said. “I saw her by the forest last night.” “By the forest?” Sylvia whispered to herself. She had been there, yes, but she hadn’t done anything. And yet it seemed like everyone knew. Her wrist itched. She looked down and froze. A faint silver mark had appeared. It wasn’t there yesterday. It glowed faintly in the sunlight, pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own. “Not again,” she muttered. Her heart pounded. She didn’t know what was happening, but she felt connected to Damian in a way that scared her. That night, Sylvia went back to the window. She had to see the boy again. She had to know why the moon felt like it was calling her. And then she saw something else. The forest moved. Not the trees. Something in the shadows moved. Something big. Damian stepped out of the darkness. This time, he didn’t just look at her. He walked closer to the clearing near the village. His eyes were brighter, sharper, like he was warning her, but he also seemed… sad. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said softly. “I had to see you,” Sylvia whispered. Damian shook his head. “The moon… it doesn’t like strangers. And it doesn’t like you here.” Sylvia frowned. “Why? What is it? Why is the moon… glowing like that?” Damian didn’t answer. He just stared up at the red moon. Sylvia felt a shiver run down her spine. The forest around him seemed alive. The shadows stretched and moved toward her window, like hands reaching for something. “You have to be careful,” Damian said finally. “The moon… it chooses.” Sylvia didn’t understand what he meant. She wanted to ask him, to follow him into the forest, to find out what the glowing mark meant. But part of her was scared. The next morning, Sylvia woke up feeling different. Her wrist still glowed faintly, but now it pulsed whenever she thought about Damian. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know what it meant. And the whispers at school grew louder. Phoebe laughed a little too loudly in class. “Looks like someone spent too much time with the wolf boy last night,” she said. Sylvia’s face burned. She wanted to shout that she hadn’t done anything, but she couldn’t. Everyone was looking at her now. The whole class was watching. That night, Sylvia couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about Damian, the glowing moon, and the strange pulse in her wrist. She didn’t know what was happening, but she had a feeling that nothing in her life would ever be normal again. And she was right. Because the moon had chosen her.