Chapter 4
1095 Words
The Howl
The full moon rose just after nine, the silver light spilled across rooftops and sidewalks, washing the town in pale shadows, its uncomfortably beautiful glow stirring memories Elena couldn't escape, making her hate full moons even more. Not because she believed in superstitions. Not because of ghost stories.
Because of memory.
The night Ronan died had been a full moon. Every month since then, she has found herself watching the sky.
Waiting. Listening.
As though grief had somehow trained her to fear moonlight. She hated that. Hated feeling so exposed and vulnerable standing barefoot in her kitchen, staring at the moon.
Again.
The untouched remains of dinner still sat on the counter. Lily had left an hour earlier. The report remained closed on the table. The missing page occupied far too much space in her thoughts. She should have gone to bed. Instead, she found herself wandering the house, checking locks, turning lights off and turning them back on, opening the refrigerator and closing it. Pacing. Restless. The same way she'd felt after every full moon for the last year.
The old Victorian house creaked softly around her.
Settling. Breathing.
Making the familiar noises that old houses always made. Tonight, every sound felt louder.
Sharper. More noticeable.
A glance at the clock told her it was nearly midnight. Sleep wasn't coming. Not anytime soon. With a frustrated sigh, Elena grabbed a blanket from the couch and curled into one corner. The television flickered quietly. Some documentary she wasn't paying attention to. The narrator spoke about migration patterns. Or ecosystems. Or something equally educational. Elena couldn't focus long enough to care. Her thoughts kept drifting. Back to Ronan. Back to the woods. Back to the missing page. Back to the impossible feeling that something wasn't finished.
Outside, the wind stirred. Branches brushed softly against the windows.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Elena frowned.
The oak tree again. She made a mental note to trim it. The sound came once more.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Then silence.
The documentary continued playing. A lion chased something across a savannah. Elena stared blankly at the screen. And then she heard it.
A howl.
Every muscle in her body tensed involuntarily as the sound rolled through the night, her breath hitching, her heart pounding fiercely.
Deep. Powerful. Ancient.
Not close. Not far. Somewhere in between.
The television continued talking. The house continued breathing. But Elena heard nothing except that sound. Her pulse stumbled. The howl lingered in the darkness for several long seconds. Then vanished. Leaving silence behind. Slowly, she sat upright. The blanket slid from her lap. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The sound shouldn't have affected her this much.
It was just a wolf. Or a dog. Or a coyote.
There were plenty of explanations. Rational explanations. Normal explanations. So why did it feel familiar? Why did it send a chill crawling down her spine?
The howl came again.
Closer.
This time, she stood. Without thinking. Drawn toward the window. The moonlight illuminated the front yard. The mailbox. The gravel driveway. The old oak tree.
Nothing else.
No movement. No animals. No shadows. Nothing. Yet the feeling remained. The unsettling certainty that she wasn't alone. Elena folded her arms. Trying to ignore the sudden cold crawling beneath her skin. The howl echoed again. Longer this time. Almost mournful. And suddenly—A memory surfaced.
Uninvited. Unwanted.
The night Ronan died. Rain. Police lights. Sheriff Walker's face. The chaos. The grief. And somewhere beneath all of it—A howl. She froze. The realization hit her so hard she actually took a step backward. She had heard it. That night. The same sound. The same sound. For an entire year, she had convinced herself it was a coincidence.
Shock. Trauma. Her imagination filling in details. But now—Hearing it again—She wasn't so sure. The wind shifted. The porch light flickered. And something moved. Elena's breath caught. Near the edge of the property. Beyond the fence line. A shadow. Large. Gone almost instantly. She pressed closer to the glass.
Nothing. Just darkness.
The trees swayed gently beneath the moonlight. The fence stood motionless. The yard remained empty. Yet she knew she'd seen something—a trick of the light.
Probably. Hopefully.
Still—Her pulse refused to slow. Minutes passed. The silence stretched. Eventually, she forced herself away from the window. Forced herself to sit. Forced herself to breathe. This was ridiculous. She was twenty-three years old. Not a frightened child. There were no monsters outside.
No ghosts. No curses. No mysterious creatures watching her from the woods.
Just grief. Just memory. Just exhaustion.
The logical explanation. The sensible explanation. The explanation she desperately wanted to believe. A loud thump echoed from outside. Elena jumped. The sound came from the side of the house.
Heavy. Solid.
Like something bumping into the wall, or landing beside it. For a moment, she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The silence that followed felt worse. Because now she was waiting.
Listening. Expecting.
Nothing happened. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two minutes. Still nothing. Finally, anger pushed through the fear. Enough. She grabbed the flashlight from the kitchen drawer. Marched toward the front door. Unlocked it and opened it. Cold air rushed inside. The night stretched before her—silver and silent. Moonlight painted the yard in pale shadows. The flashlight beam swept across the grass. The driveway. The fence.
Nothing.
No animals. No intruders. No explanation. Elena stepped onto the porch. The wood creaked beneath her feet. The beam moved again.
Searching. Looking.
Finding nothing. Then she noticed it. Near the edge of the porch. Something pressed into the dirt. A print. Her stomach dropped. Slowly, she crouched. The flashlight trembled slightly in her grip. One print. Then another. Then another. A trail. Large paw prints. Far too large. Bigger than any dog she'd ever seen. Bigger than any wolf should have been. The breath left her lungs. She followed them with the light. Across the yard. Toward the fence. Toward the woods. Toward the darkness. The tracks stopped abruptly.
Not faded. Not scattered.
Stopped. As if whatever had made them had vanished. Elena stared. Confusion replacing fear. That wasn't possible. Tracks didn't just end. Animals didn't disappear. Yet there was nothing beyond them. No continuation. No explanation. Only silence. And the uneasy feeling that something had been standing outside her house.
Watching. Listening. Waiting.
The wind stirred once more. Carrying the scent of pine and earth. Somewhere deep within the forest, a wolf howled. And this time, it sounded almost lonely.
- Writer
