The Harvest Moon

Autumn is a complicated time of year in our little coastal town. It’s supposed to be a cheerful season, and evidently, everyone is determined to prove that. Downtown, the wrought-iron fences are wrapped with orange leaf garlands and lined with jack-o’-lanterns. Hay bales border the street in preparation for the Halloween parade. The air is crisp, the leaves have turned, and I wish I could feel as happy as the scenery begs me to be.

Walking past the market, Heidi calls out.

“Chief Greer!” she exclaims. “Please, take a cup of hot cider. It’s on the house.”

I look her way and shake my head. “Sorry, Heidi. I’m not much in the mood for cider today.”

Her smile falls a fraction of an inch, and I know what thought I’ve put into her mind. Regret prickles over me. I’ve always liked Heidi and wished we could be friends. I can’t blame everyone for trying to stay positive, considering what will happen tonight, but I have to keep up the charade of concern.

A dark, mysterious tradition plagues our town. No one wants it or knows why, but every year, without fail, a woman will go missing on the Harvest Moon, never to be seen again. It gives the autumn months an eerie feeling, completely removed from Halloween. This isn’t a fun, spooky time of year for us. It’s a reality that your mom or sister or grandma could be the one who disappears this time. I think that’s why we try to celebrate the festivities that autumn brings, to offset the sadness we all know is inevitable.

Of course, there are rumors about the annual missing women. That’s actually why I had to go into law enforcement. I know where the missing women go and it’s my duty to make sure no one finds out. As the police chief, I justify this by telling myself I have to keep some secrets to keep the peace. What people don’t know won’t frighten them. So, I trudge on and pretend that we’re doing our best investigative work every Harvest Moon.

As I walk up to my mom’s house, I see it has been decorated with cobwebs and fake gravestones. She has an array of pumpkins and gourds on each step leading up to the black front door. My mother is a teacher, beloved by the community, and her Halloween displays only solidify her popularity among the local schoolchildren.

I knock, and she opens the door, looking like my mirror image. She’s sixty-five, but we look like sisters. She’s always been ethereally beautiful, a fact that she knows and is much too proud of.

“Jolene,” she says. “Welcome. Please, come in.”

I step into the familiar home, a place which I now only visit on the eve of the Harvest Moon. The walls are a deep maroon color, covered in my mom’s original charcoal artwork. She’s always been an animal lover and likes to fill her time drawing various woodland creatures. Potted ivy crawls along the ceiling’s perimeter, hanging on twinkle lights. The home looks cozy, but doesn’t bring me any comfort.

As I step deeper into the home, the scent of sage hits me, and that’s what sends me careening back to a memory from thirty years ago.

It was the night of the Harvest Moon, and I was fifteen years old. I felt petrified because my best friend had been taken the previous year, a fact that brought my mother a sick sense of joy. She tried to be supportive of my loss, but it was no secret that she thought Sophie was a bad influence on me. When she had disappeared, I saw the smile playing on my mom’s lips as she told me the news.

The year Sophie disappeared had been an anomaly. Until then, only adults had been taken. This year, every girl at school thought it might be them that was next. My mom told me not to worry, that she wouldn’t let anything happen to me, but I knew she couldn’t promise that. Nobody knew how the women were taken, so how could she protect me?

For as long as I could remember, women had tried to innovate ways to stay safe, but nothing helped. No matter who you were with, or how many people surrounded you, someone would disappear.

I guess that’s why I was awake that night. Now that a child had been taken, no woman or girl was safe. My mother tried to give me her sleeping cure, but I only pretended to drink it. I wanted to be able to defend myself, in case I was the next victim.

As I lay awake in bed, I heard the back fence open and close through my open window. Panic was setting in. This must be my turn, or maybe they were coming for my mom. How could my mom protect me if they took her too?

I remember my heart hammering in my chest as cool adrenaline spiked my veins. I needed to see what was outside my window. Whoever had come in through the fence would have to pass me before moving into our large backyard.

I pulled the curtain back slightly and peeked out. I smelled the familiar scent of burning sage before I saw them. I remember that confused me because I always associated the scent with good memories of my mom. I could hear footsteps and voices approaching until I saw my mother in a dark red velvet cape, chanting. As if in a trance, I saw Sophie’s mom following closely behind. Her eyes were open, but the stare was vacant. I gasped and quickly realized that had been a mistake.

My mom looked right at me. I didn't know how she saw me through the small crack in the curtain. As my mother’s chanting stopped, Sophie’s mom began to look more alert. My mom cursed, using a word she chastised me for using once, and began chanting again, moving toward the backyard.

I sat in my dark room, shocked, for at least five minutes as the sage smell dissipated. I felt frozen to the carpet, but I wasn’t going to let this go. I ran to confront her.

A bonfire was blazing in the grass. My mom was standing with her back to me, facing Sophie’s mom.

“Mom?” I asked in confusion.

She shoved the woman backward into the fire and then turned to face me. She had crimson blood all over her mouth.

“Jolene.” She smiled. “You didn’t drink your potion like you were supposed to.”

“What did you do?” I screamed.

“Zip it,” she said.

I tried to yell again, but it felt like my lips had been sewn shut. I couldn’t physically open them to get the words out. I knew my mom claimed to be a witch. I always thought the crystals and potions were bullshit.

“Jolene, you’ve put me in a position I really don’t want to be in, but you’ve given me no choice.”

I tried to turn and run, but I was compelled to face her again. My bare feet were glued to the wet grass.

“Listen to me carefully. You will be keeping my secret. I would say you must, but honey, after I’m done, you won’t have a choice.” She looked at me with pity and began chanting again.

The words meant nothing to me, but since I was seemingly under her spell, I believed her. At the end of the incantations, she looked me in the eye.

“Let’s hear it,” she said.

Not of my own volition, the words came spilling out of my mouth.

“My lips are sealed.”

Coming back to my senses, I see the house as it is now and keep moving forward. I see my mother’s crystal ball on her large round table, draped in that familiar dark red velvet. As I approach the image within the ball, it looks like I’m watching myself from behind.

“Have you been scrying?” I ask.

“Well, darling, you don’t let me into your life.” She looks somewhat guilty. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” I say. “Who’s it going to be this time?”

She gives me a coy smile. “I was thinking Heidi.”