Moon Shadow

The moon hung bloated and silver over the silent rooftops, draining the town of color and stretching shadows into jagged ink. Amidst the stillness, a young girl stood in a tattered nightdress, her hair a wild thicket of knots. She stared upward, unblinking, bathed in the cold lunar glare.

Leo, cutting through the square on his way home, slowed his pace. "Miss? Are you okay?"

She didn't move. Concerned, he stepped closer, reaching out toward her shoulder. "Do you need help?"

The girl spun with unnatural fluidity. Before Leo could gasp, she lunged, her fingers hooked into jagged talons.

Leo stumbled back, the sting on his cheek blooming into a sharp, rhythmic throb. He pressed his palm to the wound, feeling the warm stickiness of blood seeping through his fingers.

The girl didn't flee. She crouched low, her spine curving at an impossible angle as she let out a low, guttural hiss that sounded more like grinding stones than a human voice. In the harsh moonlight, her eyes weren't white or blue; they were two pits of shimmering obsidian, reflecting the lunar glow with predatory intensity.

"Wait—" Leo stammered, his heart hammering against his ribs.

She lunged again. This time, Leo scrambled sideways, narrowly avoiding a swipe that whistled past his ear. As she landed, the pavement beneath her bare feet seemed to crack. This wasn't a lost child or a victim in shock; she was something ancient, fueled by the very light she had been worshipping.

Panic surged, sharper than the pain in his face. Leo turned and bolted toward the narrow mouth of Miller’s Alley, his boots skidding on the damp cobblestones. Behind him, the rhythmic scritch-scritch-scritch of frantic claws told him she wasn't running—she was scaling the walls.

He dived behind a row of heavy iron trash bins, chest heaving. For a second, there was only the sound of the wind. Then, a shadow blotted out the moonlight above him. She was perched on the fire escape, her tattered dress fluttering like the wings of a dying moth.

Leo didn't wait. He lunged for the basement door of the old bakery, praying the latch was weak. With a desperate heave, the wood splintered, and he tumbled into the darkness just as a pale hand slammed against the doorframe, leaving deep, gouged tracks in the oak. He fumbled for the bolt, sliding it home seconds before a heavy thud vibrated through the wood.

He was safe for now, but the low, rhythmic scratching on the other side suggested she was willing to wait until dawn.

Should he look for a weapon in the dark, or try to find a way out through the back?

The girl halted her crawl, her head tilting at an angle that should have snapped her neck. The predatory hiss died away, replaced by a wet, rattling breath. Leo’s pulse thundered in his ears, the dough scraper trembling in his hand as she leaned into the sliver of light filtering from the chute.

"Leo..."

The voice was thin and raspy, but the inflection was unmistakable. It wasn't the sound of a monster; it was the voice of his younger sister, Maya, who had been missing for three weeks.

The shock hit him harder than her claws. He lowered the makeshift weapon an inch, his eyes stinging. "Maya? Is that... how is this you?"

She didn't answer with logic. Her jaw unhinged further, and those obsidian eyes began to weep a thick, silvery fluid that glowed with the same intensity as the moon outside. She took a step toward him, her movements flickering like a corrupted film reel, her expression shifting between a mask of agony and a hunger that transcended family ties.

snap her out of it, or has he realized too late that Maya is already gone?

The dough scraper clattered to the concrete floor, the sound echoing like a death knell in the cramped basement. All the terror that had fueled Leo’s flight evaporated, replaced by a crushing, desperate hope.

"Maya," he whispered, his voice breaking. He stepped forward, arms instinctively opening to pull her into safety. "I’ve been looking everywhere. It’s okay, I’ve got you now."

The creature wearing his sister's face froze. For a heartbeat, the obsidian in her eyes flickered, and a familiar, terrified girl looked back at him. But as Leo’s hand touched her cold, soot-stained shoulder, the moon above passed its zenith.

The silver tears streaming down her face turned black. The girl’s jaw didn't just drop—it split, the skin tearing back to reveal a hollow void where a throat should be. The "Maya" he knew vanished behind a mask of lunar hunger. By the time Leo saw the predatory light return to her gaze, his arms were already locked in her iron grip. She wasn't his sister; she was a vessel, and he had just offered himself up as the next feast.

Leo felt her strength—cold, mechanical, and absolute. As her grip tightened on his forearms, he looked past the distorted features of his sister and saw the truth: Maya was the bait, and the moon was the hook.

He wouldn't let this thing back out into the streets.

Summoning a final burst of adrenaline, Leo didn't pull away. Instead, he lunged forward, using his weight to shove the creature backward, deeper into the bowels of the bakery. They crashed into the heavy iron doors of the industrial oven, the impact ringing through the room.

With his blood slicking his hands, Leo reached for the heavy iron latch of the walk-in flour vault nearby. It was a reinforced, windowless room designed to keep out heat and pests. As she lunged for his throat, he twisted, swinging his body and hers inside the dark chamber.

He dove back out at the last second, slamming the heavy door shut. He threw the exterior deadbolt just as a massive thud shook the steel.

Leo slumped against the door, sliding down to the cold floor. He looked at the gouges on his arms, glowing with a faint, rhythmic silver light. He was the only one who knew the vault’s code, and as his own vision began to darken into obsidian, he realized he would never be opening it again. The town was safe, but the basement was no longer empty.