Almost One year of the Crimson Moon
Tags: Short Story, Short Fiction

Photo by Christal Yuen on Unsplash

It has been almost a year since the ritual, since I found out this is my fate. It’s been a year of more nightmares. While on the one hand I’ve found a rhythm, I have yet to get a grip on things. I still keep dreaming and I still feel out of control. Luckily I no longer wake up screaming. It has not been as distressing as it used to. My parents have started to adjust to things too, they are getting their normal sleep back. Also things in town have changed. As I’ve been calmer, others only see the exhaustion. The mood in the village has slowly calmed down as well.

My parents have accepted this new normal, this new situation. They have learned to accept the nightmares. It’s now the norm, while on the one hand they are understanding, on the other hand I can’t make excuses to not contribute to life in town, I need to pull my weight. I have to accept my role as a child as a daughter and accept my day to day duties. Exhaustion or not, things need to be done. I’ve come to accept these duties, I’ve come to accept the exhaustion, at least in part and I’ve come to accept that this is part of my destiny too now.

Over time it’s become easier to influence my dreams. I no longer blindly flee or scream or escape. I hide and I’m getting smarter with hiding. I follow the movements of the specters, they try to seek me out. I wait behind walls, in bushes, I tread lightly and I’ve learned to keep my breath low. I rarely make any noise these days. Every night my skills very gradually improve.

It’s morning now, I just woke up and I’m exhausted, the sun is about to come up, but I didn’t scream or yell. I just woke up, tonight was a good night. When I went to sleep my dreams played out in a set of ruins. I’m always surprised by the settings, I don’t recall seeing those ruins before. I wonder where they come from, whether it’s visions of the future or the past. Whether it’s just a creative new construct of the specters or their memories. In either case, they are unique and they challenge me. There is something about those ruins. They are structured, there’s a purpose to them. The ruins are overgrown with lush growth, the sun is out as well. Most dreams are in sunny weather. Shades of green that I have never seen in my life. I’m used to the plains I’ve lived and grew up to, some grass in mostly patches of brown. The ruins are decidedly different, they are not from here. I can even smell the green, the plants, the air is thick with it.

The ruins are laid out in different interesting ways. There are walls that seem randomly scattered and while there are some open areas, there are many places to hide. Even though there’s such a lush growth, there are still stones below my feet that crack and crumble. They still make noises, even more so than the plains, than real life. I tread carefully and always watch where I stand, I rarely run freely, I always go from wall to wall. The specters looking out, they are large, often casting long shadows or even standing out above the walls. They move relatively slowly, but they seem to float. Their sounds are usually limited to their cloaks scraping the walls. When they are close, I hold my breath and listen for the cloaks, even picking up their rustle as they barely move through the wind.

Usually I’ll spend the night hiding and fleeing. It’s rare that they find me these days. I’ve learned to hide better and the past few nights other things have changed too. The specters themselves were more silent, more subtle. They seemed to move more quickly, but as of yet, I’m managing to escape them still. It’s almost as though they are changing, as though there are new spectres trying to challenge me.

It’s been interesting to find out how much can be done with little quality sleep. The initial shock of waking up is the worst of it. I’m still just laying there in bed in our home. As I’ve seen the ruins, the walls of stone, the proper wooden ceilings and I’ve even seen some roofing. I knew these places existed, I also realize we’re not going to be living in such circumstances. Our life here is simple. We’re by no means living poorly, neither are we hungry. We work hard and we make due with what we have. How our ancestors decided to live here I don’t know. We live here on the plains where it’s by no means desolate, but the amount of rocks and just general grey is a very far cry from the vivid colours in my dreams. Our village is small and humble, but also warm and comfortable. There are about 50 of us living here, each with their own role and stake.

There are a few, including my parents, that herd cattle. The animals find plenty of food and in turn they feed us. When you walk outside on the plains, it feels like there’s just stone. But if you look well, there’s plenty of food. The grass grows everywhere, shades of dark green and in the colder seasons a light brown. Then there are the insects that live absolutely everywhere, they seem to thrive out here. Small birds and lizards are constantly on the hunt. Over the past months I’ve learned to observe, to watch more keenly at all the movements.

Usually my tasks are simple enough, I clean the house and arrange for the cattle to have their water. When my parents set out for the day, I’m somewhat free to do what I want to, as long as there is water and the house is clean. Usually I’ll clean the house and then by noon I set out to find where they are. Usually they explain the general area they will go to. I head out there by noon and find some higher ground. Once there I watch and observe. I listen to the sound of the wind, I watch the clouds roll over.

The more I sit there and listen, the more I observe the insects. I hear them crawling everywhere. I hear the birds soaring and observing, the way their wings flick when they change direction. I hear the lizards running to and from and how they try to catch their prey. The crunching in their jaws as they crush up their meal. The sounds have become so present and vivid the past year. Seeing the plains alive has completely changed my perspective.

In the distance I see my parents, they are barely noticeable with all the rocks around, their clothes hide them well. They clearly can’t see me. I move in closer, my tread light as I run towards them. As much as I was aware of the noises around me, I’m similarly aware of the noises I’m making now. My breath remains shallow as I keep running. I’m about 2 kilometers closer now, a large rock nearby acts as an excellent lookout. I climb and find them again. I give a short but sharp whistle and I see them waving. I wave back and know that they are safe. I walk back home and prepare for them to come home too. I work to prepare the pen for the animals, since today was a good day, I feel like doing something extra. The pen is clean and there’s water for the animals.

As the night closes in, things are quiet again. I get nervous, I have to sleep again soon. Though now, we simply eat dinner, my parents talk about what the cattle did. I can only imagine that other families also talk of their work during dinner. It’s common and mundane and perfect in many ways. It’s calm and relaxing, it’s just about the day to day life experiences. It’s far away from my nightmares and it’s a great distraction from it all.

Soon enough it’s time to sleep and I do my best to sleep too. I’m back at the ruins again. The giants roaming again around trying to find me. It’s the same story every night. It’s warm and sunny out, although I know it’s just a dream, I walk swiftly and silently, although it’s only a dream. Suddenly I notice the giants look up, it’s only now that I notice there are 6 of them now, I had only seen 4 before, I always thought there were just 4. One of the 6, clearly the tallest, lets out a primal grunt and they all gather at a clearing within the ruins. They are standing in a circle and again the tallest lets out a primal grunt. Followed by him calling my name, “Moon, you need to wake up, someone is seeking you out.”