Tales of the Blood Moon

Never Alone

People have beenmilling around for a little while, sipping coffee, eating donuts andmaking small talk before the meeting begins. The atmosphere isusually pretty cordial until we get to the main event. Once we allsit down and open up about our lives, things get tense. In the sixyears since I formed this group at the community rec center, I'veheard some really depressing stuff. It's amazing the sorts of thingspeople can survive. The thing is, most of the people here arealready pretty much through the woods. I say most because,standing near the door, is a brand new face to the group. She's inher late teens, with dirty-blonde hair she allows to fall over mostof her face. She keeps her head down most of the time, glancing upand around every twenty seconds or so before staring down at hershoes. Her arms are held tight across her chest, with one hand nearher face, so she can chew on her thumbnail whenever her nerves getthe better of her. Like everyone else here (including myself), she'seither considered - or has attempted - suicide. I imagine she'salready made up her mind, but feels she needs to at least pretend tomake one last attempt before she throws in the towel. The thing is,I'm not worried about her. I'm more concerned with thestrait-jacketed, greasy-haired freak with coins over both eyes who'slurking behind her, completely invisible to everyone in here exceptme.

I'm no expert, butin my experience, most people that walk through those doors aresuffering from a combination of loneliness and a chemical imbalancein the brain that makes them think eating a bullet is a solution forsomething. When I say "loneliness", I'm not talking the normal,"I wish someone were here" kind of loneliness. I'm talking aboutthe "nobody understands or gives a fuck so what's the point?"kind of loneliness that few people ever feel and even fewer live longenough to work through. Doctors can fix the chemical imbalance and,in these meetings, we all do our best to help each other realize thatnone of us is truly alone. Feeling completely, desperately andentirely alone and misunderstood is seriously bad, but what'splaguing the dirty-blonde is a whole other kind of fucked up...and Ishould know.

Back in themid-80s, when I was still in my early twenties, I got it in my headthat a sufficiently large quantity of both alcohol and cocaine wouldput an end to my directionless, meaningless life. I always felt Ineeded something to get me through the day but, toward the end, Ireally took a nosedive. For reasons I couldn't explain, I couldbarely summon the urge to get out of bed. I simply couldn't standbeing alive any longer so, with as much cash as I could scrapetogether, I had one last "party" and down I went.

I was leaning backon my couch, my head tilted all the way back. I couldn't move atall. My eyes were wide open and I was just staring at the ceiling,waiting for the end. When I saw the first flicker of the shadow onthe ceiling, I assumed it was just the darkness closing in. Itwasn't until I saw the shadows coalesce into a mist of vaguely humanform, clawing its way down the wall toward me, that I realized mymistake. It stopped just above me, clinging onto the wall andlooking down into my eyes. It stared at me briefly, then turned itshead toward my front door. I wasn't initially certain why it didthat but, a moment later, when a knock was heard at the door, Iunderstood. I could hear my younger sister calling my name andbanging on the door. She had a key to my house so, when I didn'trespond, she opened the door and found me on the couch. I called herjust before I went on my binge and left a rambling, cryptic messageon the answering machine (as so many of us do when we need help butdon't know how to ask for it) and I guess she heard it and gotworried. I thought she'd be horrified by the thing on the wall, butit was clear she couldn't see it.

Freaky as all thatwas, it was the action of the thing on the wall that really botheredme. As my sister leaned over me, shouting and trying to figure outwhat I'd done to myself, the thing on the wall looked at my sister,tilting its head as if fascinated by her. It slowly extended awispy, black, clawed hand toward her face. My sister pulled awayquickly and I, at first, assumed she'd seen the thing. Turns out shewas just going for a phone so she could call the paramedics.

I obviouslysurvived, but I hadn't seen the last of the shadow-creature. I guessmy near-death experience jostled something in my brain (or soul...)and I'm now "gifted" with the ability to see monsters like theshadow-creature. I got plenty of chances to see it. I would see itwhenever things got bad. Whenever I felt really down about things,there it would be. It was subtle at first, but got bolder over time. I eventually got the feeling it was trying to get me to offmyself. After doing a little (well, a lot) of occult research, Ifound out I was right. Things like that sometimes go looking for abody and, in the case of suicides, they can just hop right in as soonas soon as the person dies. I'm not completely clear on all thedetails, but it has something to do with them taking over a bodysomeone willingly vacated instead of them just trying to hijack abody straight out. Possession is something else entirely, but Ididn't read up on that too much since, if the thing wanted to possessme, it had plenty of chances and didn't take any of them. Once Iunderstood its game, I discovered a new lease on life. I wanted tobeat the thing, more out of a sense of spite than any real desire tocontinue living. Unfortunately, all the books I read, with all theirspells, charms and wards, did jack-squat against the thing. Then,one day, I noticed I hadn't seen the thing in awhile. I was prettysure none of the stuff I'd used from the books had done anything, butI didn't care. I was just happy it was gone.

A phone call frommy sister a few days later changed my mood. The call started off asjust another conversation, but there was something in her voice thatcaught my attention. After a bit of cajoling, she told me she'dreally started to feel depressed. She couldn't explain why. I askedif I could stop over for a visit. She agreed and, when I got there,the thing was crawling along the back of her couch. It made its wayup her bookcase, perched at the top and simply stared at me. Irealized the thing finally decided I wasn't as much a prize as mysister, so it was after her now. I also realized it only took noticeof her because of the stunt I'd pulled. If I hadn't done that stupidshit that forced her to come and save me, she would never have cometo its attention. Her life was in peril because of me.

Believe it or not,I understood why it wanted her instead of me. From what I've read,things like the shadow-creature feed off energy - the purer thebetter. In my case, I had very little purity left, and my "friends"had even less. My sister's friends, on the other hand, were some ofthe nicest, kindest, most-generous people you'd ever meet. Anythinginhabiting my sister's body would be surrounded by a puritysmorgasbord.

I took my sisterfor a long walk and explained things to her. She thought I wascrazy, but swore to me she'd do her best to stay positive. I spentmy days and nights poring through every book I could find that mightoffer some way of dealing with the shadow-creature. I eventuallystumbled upon a solution that allowed me to trap the shadow-creature. Emboldened by my success and eager to help others, I've made a pointof capturing every other monster I've ever seen. Including theshadow-creature, I'm up to four. Looking at the strait-jacketedthing across the room, I aim to make it five.

The dirty-blondelooks up long enough to see me watching her. She looks away quicklyand then walks to the refreshment table. The thing that followed herin begins stalking around the room, sniffing people like it's a dog. I guess it's trying to see if there's someone it would rather hasslethan the dirty-blonde.

I start toward therefreshment table when I suddenly remember that I need to solicitdonations to keep the rec center open. I pull out my phone as I'mwalking and fire off a text to one of our wealthier donors. Stoppingat the refreshment table and pocketing my phone, I say to thedirty-blonde, "Welcome to the group."

She looks up at mefor a second before dropping her head once again. Before I can sayanother word to her, she leans close to me and says, "Something isfollowing me."

She glances at thestrait-jacketed thing before leaning away and returning her gaze tothe floor. I'm both confused and delighted to find someone who cansee the monsters like I can. I always thought I'd be alone in myfight against the monsters, but if she can see them too, maybe I'mnot alone after all?

"Nice necklace,"she says without looking up. I hadn't responded right away to herearlier statement, so I guess she's trying to change theconversation, probably assuming I can't see what she does. "Do thefour crystals on it mean anything?"

"Yeah," I tellher, smiling a bit, "but the fifth one I'm about to get is going tobe the most special."