Moonbound Hearts

The forest behind my house never seemed threatening during the day. Sunlight dappled the leaves, and squirrels jumped from branch to branch, sending a rain of pine needles drifting to the mossy ground. But tonight, under a heavy autumn sky and a half-hung moon, the same forest pressed against my back door like a silent, watching beast. I’d been staring out my bedroom window for the last twenty minutes, watching the mist roll off the slopes of the Silverpine mountains. The mist was strange tonight. Thick and restless. Coiling in shapes that reminded me of claws. Somewhere deep in the trees, a howl split the night. Not the distant, mournful cry of a coyote like the ones Mason and I sometimes heard on camping trips. This sound was deeper. Richer. It vibrated in my chest like the forest itself had drawn a breath and exhaled in warning. I froze, my hand still on the glass of my windowpane. No one in Silverpine stayed out past dusk anymore, not since the attacks. Two weeks ago, a hiker went missing. His backpack was found at the base of Ridgewater Falls, torn and soaked in blood. People whispered about a mountain lion. A bear. Then, two nights later, a local hunter stumbled home with three long scratches across his chest and no memory of what had attacked him. Now, half the town avoided the woods altogether. The other half kept rifles by their doors. Another sound carried through the night. Not a howl this time, but a c***k, like a branch snapped under the weight of something heavy. My breath fogged the window. I pulled my gray hoodie tighter around me and stepped back from the glass. Mason had left for his night shift at the mechanic shop two hours ago. I hated when he worked late. He liked to pretend Silverpine was safe, that we weren’t living next to something that could rip a grown man apart in seconds, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. A soft buzz from my phone snapped me from my thoughts. Mason: Lock the doors. I might be late tonight. I sighed and typed back: Already done. Don’t worry. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me. I checked the lock on my window and crossed the hall to make sure the front and back doors were bolted. The living room smelled faintly of the apple-scented candle I’d left burning earlier, but the cozy smell did nothing to soften the unease crawling over my skin. I hesitated at the back door. The porch light spilled a weak golden glow across the yard, illuminating the first row of trees. Beyond that, darkness swallowed everything. That’s when I saw him. A figure stood just past the light, where the grass met the tree line. He was tall, shoulders broad, and completely still, as if he were part of the night itself. The mist curled around his boots and legs like he belonged to the forest. I couldn’t see his face. My heart leapt to my throat. I blinked once, twice— Gone. The shadows had swallowed him whole. I gripped the doorframe, pulse racing, trying to convince myself I hadn’t seen anything at all. Suddenly, a knock rattled the front door. Three sharp, deliberate raps. I jumped, spinning toward the sound. My phone buzzed again. Unknown Number: You shouldn’t look into the woods at night. My blood turned to ice. The phone trembled in my hands. The text blurred as my breath fogged the screen, and for a moment, I couldn’t think, couldn’t even move. Unknown number. How could they know what I was doing? The knock came again, louder this time. Three hard strikes against the wood. I took a cautious step toward the door, my socks whispering against the floorboards. I wasn’t stupid. Every horror movie I’d ever watched screamed in my head to not open it. But Mason wasn’t home, and my curiosity had teeth sharper than my fear. I hovered a few feet away and called out, “Who is it?” Silence. The kind of silence that swallows you whole, where the only sound is the hammering of your own heart. I swallowed and gripped the edge of the doorframe like it could anchor me. “If this is a prank” A voice interrupted me, smooth and low. “You shouldn’t leave your curtains open.” I jolted back, heart slamming into my ribs. The voice wasn’t threatening, exactly, but it carried something…unsettling. Like velvet over a blade. I forced air into my lungs and risked a glance through the peephole. Nothing. Just the dim porch light casting long shadows across the empty yard. My hand trembled on the lock. I thought about calling Mason, but what would I even say? That the forest had eyes tonight? That the air outside tasted like danger? I took a deep breath and tried to rationalize. Maybe it was a kid from school pulling a late-night prank. Maybe I’d imagined the figure in the mist. My brain clung to excuses like they were life rafts. Then, the sound of footsteps, soft but deliberate, crunched across the leaves in the yard. They weren’t running. Just…pacing. Waiting. I backed away from the door. My gaze darted to the windows. Every shadow in the room seemed to move with the wind. My phone buzzed again. Unknown Number: Don’t be afraid, Lila. My name. My chest tightened. No one outside my contacts had this number. Another message followed seconds later: I’m not here to hurt you. That should have comforted me, but instead, my fear doubled. Whoever it was, they knew my name, my house, my habits. And they were watching me right now. I ran upstairs and locked my bedroom door, my fingers shaking so hard I nearly dropped my phone. I slid down against the wall, trying to control my breathing. Think, Lila. Think. I needed Mason home. I needed this night to end. The forest howled again, long, deep, and impossibly close. It reverberated through the walls of the house like the earth itself was warning me. I reached for my sketchbook on the nightstand. Drawing always helped me calm down. My pencil scratched across the page, forming the silhouette I swore I saw at the edge of the forest—tall, broad-shouldered, with mist curling around his boots. The sound of pebbles hitting my window made my pencil snap. I froze, breath caught in my throat. Another soft tap-tap. I crawled to the window and peeled the curtain back an inch. There he was. Standing in the yard, just beyond the glow of the porch light. His face was still shadowed, but this time, I caught the glint of golden eyes in the dark - luminous, inhuman, and fixed on me. I gasped and stumbled back, my heart racing. By the time I looked again, he was gone. I didn’t sleep that night. Every creak of the house made me flinch. Every flicker of moonlight across my wall looked like a shadow reaching for me. My phone stayed clutched in my hand, the unknown number still lingering at the top of my messages like a secret I couldn’t escape.