Tales by Moonlight

Locked Away

The house came into view as I ran up the hill, my legs trembling and my chest heaving. My thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The old man’s words echoed in my mind: You’re special, Sarah, just as your grandmother said.

No sooner had I stepped through the door than Clara’s sharp voice greeted me. “Where have you been?” she demanded, her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her piercing gaze swept over my dishevelled appearance. “Look at you. Running around like a wild animal. What kind of impression do you think this leaves on this family?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My heart was still racing, and my mind was too clouded to form words. Ignoring her entirely, I darted past her and up the narrow staircase to my room.

“Sarah!” she shouted after me, her voice rising with fury. “Don’t you dare walk away from me! Come back down here this instant!”

I slammed my door shut and locked it, leaning against it for support. Clara’s footsteps pounded up the stairs, stopping just outside my door.

“Open this door right now!” she yelled, banging on it with her fist. “Don’t think you can hide from me. You’re not too old to learn some respect!”

Her voice dropped to a harsh mutter. “Fine. If you want to act like a brat, you won’t get any food today. Let’s see how long you last before you come crawling out.”

I slid down to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees as her words became muffled by the pounding of my heart. The banging eventually stopped, replaced by her stomping down the stairs. The threat of no food barely registered. Hunger was the least of my concerns right now.

The room was quiet except for my ragged breaths. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the small window, but it felt oppressive, too bright for the storm raging in my head. I closed my eyes and tried to steady myself, but Nana’s stories came rushing back, unbidden and relentless.

There are people in this world who carry gifts inside them, Sarah. Gifts they didn’t ask for but are born to bear. They’re special, even if the world doesn’t understand them.

I remembered how she would sit by the fire, her voice low and full of wonder, spinning tales of individuals who could shape the elements, heal with a touch, or sense things beyond what the eye could see. She always told me I was special, too, though I’d never believed her. Not until now.

Why me? I wondered, gripping my knees tighter. I don’t want this. I just want to be normal. But the water at the stream, the way it obeyed me, the way it stopped and moved as if I had willed it—it wasn’t something I could ignore or deny.

Then there was Elias. His calm assurance, the way he spoke as if he knew me, knew exactly what I was going through. I’ve trained others like you.

My heart sank. A part of me wanted to believe him, to trust that he could help me make sense of this, but fear held me back. What if he was wrong? What if he was dangerous? The thought of Nana came again, her absence more painful than ever. She would have known what to do. She always did.

“Nana,” I whispered, tears slipping down my cheeks. “Why did you have to leave me?”

I stared at the floor, my vision blurred, as the hours dragged on. The light outside began to fade, shadows stretching long across the walls. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to see Clara or Ruth. I didn’t want to explain why I had locked myself away. They wouldn’t understand, and they wouldn’t care.

As darkness enveloped the room, I finally stood, my legs stiff from sitting so long. I moved to the window and peered out at the stars beginning to twinkle in the sky. They seemed impossibly far away, like everything else in my life that had once made sense.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted into a restless sleep. But a loud noise in the distance startled me awake. I fumbled for my clock and squinted at the dim glow of its hands. Midnight was hours away. The night was still young, the house eerily silent.

I tiptoed to my door and cracked it open. The hallway was dark, but the faint glow of a lamp spilled out from the kitchen. I crept down the stairs, my bare feet barely making a sound, but as I reached the bottom, Clara’s voice cut through the stillness.

“So, you’ve finally decided to crawl out,” she sneered, standing by the kitchen table with a cup of tea in her hand. “What now? Looking for scraps?”

I froze, unsure of how to respond. Her smug expression only fuelled the storm inside me.

“You’ve always been a troublemaker,” she continued, stepping closer. “Just like your mother. And look where that got her.”

Her words hit like a slap. Anger surged in me, hot and uncontrollable. “Stop it!” I screamed, my voice echoing in the small space. The room seemed to hold its breath. Then, without warning, the jar of water sitting on the table exploded, shards of glass scattering across the floor. Clara shrieked, dropping her cup, and stared at me with wide, terrified eyes.

“What… what did you just do?” she stammered, backing away.

I couldn’t answer. My own fear matched hers, maybe even surpassed it. My hands were trembling, and my chest felt tight as I stumbled toward the door. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.

I flung the door open and ran out into the night. The cool air hit my face, but it did little to calm the chaos inside me. The woods loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but I didn’t care. I needed to get away—from Clara, from the house, from everything.

The trees closed around me, their branches casting shadows that seemed to dance in the faint moonlight. The night was alive with nature's sounds: the howling of wolves in the distance, the steady chirping of crickets. Yet, the noise in my head was louder, drowning everything else. The night was silent except for the sound of my footsteps and the pounding of my heart. I didn’t know where I was going, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My thoughts raced as fast as my feet, the image of the shattered jar burned into my mind. What was happening to me? Was this who I really was?

I couldn’t stop running, my feet carrying me further into the woods, until I collided with something solid—a person. The force knocked us both off balance, and we tumbled to the ground, rolling a short distance before coming to a stop. Disoriented, I pushed myself up, my heart pounding as I looked at the person I’d run into.

Aiden, he was young man, steady and firm, I couldn’t view his complete face, the moonlight only revealed half of it. There was an air of calm confidence about him that set him apart from anyone I’d ever met. His dark eyes searched mine as he stood and dusted himself off. Despite the unexpected collision, his voice was calm and gentle. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked, his tone soothing. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, offering me a hand.

I ignored his hand, too startled to respond. My mind raced with a million questions, and I stepped back cautiously, ready to bolt again if necessary.

He seemed to sense my fear and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. “But what are you doing out here? The woods can be dangerous at night.”

I still couldn’t find my voice. My breaths came in short gasps, and I could feel my pulse in my ears. He frowned slightly, concern evident on his face. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s unsafe for you to wander out here alone. “My name’s Aiden, by the way. And trust me, the woods can be dangerous at night. My place isn’t far. You can stay there for the night.”

His offer caught me off guard. I hesitated, glancing back at the dark expanse of trees behind me. The idea of spending the night alone in the woods sent a chill down my spine. But could I trust him?

“Please,” he urged, his voice steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to explain anything. Just let me help.”

I hesitated for another moment before nodding. Whatever lay ahead with him couldn’t be worse than the oppressive darkness and the unknown dangers of the forest. He gestured for me to follow, and though my steps were reluctant, I found myself trailing behind him into the night.

We walked for a while in the woods, the silence between us punctuated only by the sounds of the night. Aiden occasionally glanced back at me, his demeanour calm and protective. He tried to make small talk, his voice gentle as he spoke about the forest and how he often came here to clear his mind. “It’s peaceful most nights,” he said, his tone soothing, as though he could sense my unease. “But it’s no place to be alone after dark.”

Gradually, his attempts to make me feel comfortable began to work. Though I remained cautious, something was reassuring about his presence, a steadiness that made me feel a little less lost.

Finally, we reached a small clearing, and I saw the glow of a house nestled between the trees. It was modest but inviting, with warm light spilling from the windows. Just as I began to feel a sliver of relief, a familiar voice called out from the house.

“Aiden! Is that you?”

I froze. My heart skipped a beat as the voice registered in my mind. It was Elias.