Full Moon - Part One: The Crow (Unfinished)

- A psychological horror.1

I was a man, in the loosest sense. 2

I was quite tall for a person of forty-three, for I made others look vertically challenged. I had light brown hair with pale skin, but it was my eyes set me apart from others. They were flat black. However, I was a gentle man at heart, always trying to help everyone I could and trying my best not to harm any creature I would come across. 3

My mind had a way of erasing all my bad times, and sometimes some of the good ones, but I didn’t care, for it was natural. Some people called mad, but I just thought of myself as Optimistic. When I told the other people that, they would tell me that it was the same thing. 4

I loved the sun and all of the light it brought. From my childhood, I ran outside when dawn broke through the gray clouds, setting the sky on fire. It was amazing to see how light, at the right angle, made the dew sparkle, so the green forest seemed to be embedded with thousands of diamonds. I loved the morning, high noon, and the afternoon. 5

It was the night that I abhorred with all my being.6

I walk across the gravelly path, enveloped in a long overcoat shielding me from the harsh winds that carried ice and chilling water on their invisible arms. The trees around me rustled, and I chuckled as I saw the forest shiver in the cold. I stole one last glance at my cabin before I headed towards the city. 7

As I strolled through the forest, I could feel pairs of eyes on me. The animals, of course, were coming to catch a glimpse of me – the human. I looked up at a birch tree, its rough bark 8

chipping off and the fungi growing on it untamed. My pace slowed. I spotted a solitary jet black crow turn its head towards my direction. It seemed to have two marbles for viewing the world, and I shivered as the bird’s glassy gaze bore down on my back. The bird never stopped looking at me, not once. Then when I decided to meet its glare, it gave a loud caw and flew away, in flutter of the darkest ebony, embracing the gray clouds below the blue sky, remaining a blot.9

When I reached the city, I took my spot on the newsstand, grabbing a few papers, and starting to sell them to the passing pedestrians. It was on the day when the sun wasn’t blinding my eyes and the clouds were decked neatly in the blue sky, I met that man.10

“One paper, if you may.” He said in a strange voice that seemed to be straining for a low octave. The man wore a top hat that hid all his face, and large overcoat that seemed to be dragging across the ground as he walked. 11

“Oh, but I must,” I replied, handing him a newspaper.12

“Thank you.” The man whispered, and lifted his top hat. That was when I saw his face. He had grizzly black hair that sprouted from his scalp, a flecked face that almost seemed blurred, and a long curved nose that adjoined with his extremely thin lips, but what held my gaze was his glassy eyes, callous and yellow like dusty orbs.13

I must have gasped, but if the man heard me, he did not let it show. He put his hat back in place, once more, shadowing his facial features and walked away, clumsily. 14

I forgot the anecdote. For the rest of day I was cheerful, and, finally, satisfied from selling lots of papers, I started to walk back home. I spotted the crow, with its grizzly black hair, long curved beak, and its glassy eyes: callous and yellow like dusty orbs. I shuddered.15

---16

Running when you are scared is a very strange experience, for when pure fear swallows the mind and envelops it in a cold chamber; a person notices every insignificant detail that lies in the shrubbery background. Every rustle in the bushes or any whistle of the wind causes your blood to freeze and your heart to speed up, all the while, you are trying to breathe.17

I had run mile after mile to reach my cabin when dusk had covered the sky inside a smothering blanket, suffocating the light. On other days, I walked home, humming a merry tune to take my mind away from the monsters that were following me. Today, I was sprinted towards my cabin as fast as my long legs could carry me, but the yellow orbs in the sky never left me, not once. 18

Reaching my house, I let a sigh of relief and tears welled up in my eyes. I looked back to see the shadows under the trees shudder, but nothing moved. I laughed a bit and then I cried tears full of joy and relief. I took a box of matches, and lit up the lamp, while heading to turn on the stove for dinner. Abruptly, there was a knock at the door. I smiled to myself, for it must have been the wind. My heart almost forgot to restart, when the solitary knock was slowly followed by three more. I thought about keeping quiet and pretending that no one was in the house, but then I remembered the lamp and cursed at myself. The stranger behind the door would know someone was here, for the light was glowing, and to turn on the light there had to be a person. I sighed, brushed back my matted hair, and put on a stiff smile that would fool no one. 19

Before I could open the shabby door, the wind seemed to take my place and did it for me. In the dark stood the blurred man with a lamp of his own, making the yellow orbs, which could have been glued to his face, even more pronounced. 20

Even though my hands were trembling, I took a deep breath through my nose and invited him in. He thanked me and came into the light. To my dismay, he wasn’t wearing anything except a black collared shirt and pants. I had to swallow three times, to keep from screaming out. 21

“Hello, may I ask what are you doing here at this time of the night?” I said, my voice shaking only slightly. He flushed before speaking and hesitated, as if he was trying to word something correctly. He coughed, clearing his throat.22

“I assume that I owe you an explanation for my interruption. If you must know, I am homeless, currently, for I lost my job as a psychiatrist a few years ago. However, I love roaming the woods and camping here, for this forest is my home, and I usually am asleep two or three hours before, but I went to get some water from the river side, when I spotted your lamp in the night. To tell the truth, I had assumed that I was the only one here.”23

“As, did I.” My heart was racing. This man had been here for the past few years. He said that he went to sleep early every single day, but who knew? The muffled raps on my window, the crunching of leaves in the forest, and all the other incessant sounds that had vexed me regularly could have been caused by him. Him! Standing right before me! My mind took an even more menacing path. I remembered the crow and then I compared that image to his. I asked myself if the resemblance was just coincidental. No, the similarities were way too perfect to be a coincidence. I did not find it hard to believe that the man was turning into a crow and stalking me. He wanted me to die. In my heart, I knew had to kill him – kill him, before those dusty yellow orbs hovered over my dead body, satisfaction swirling in their depths. 24