Free Light of the Moon by David James Page B

smiled. “Calum.”
    Even though the autumn air flooded around me, I could not take a breath from it.
    His eyes were glazed over and there was a red fire in them, a burning that looked like hunger. His face was calm, but his wicked grin was both painful and sweet to look at. It was too wide for his face. He was pale, nearly white against the moonlight. His tongue continued to caress his lips as if they were covered with an endless amount of sugar.
    Suddenly his entire face twitched. His fingers clawed at his scalp and dug deep. He let out a high-pitched bark. “No! Go away!”
    I tripped on a fallen branch and stumbled back. He grabbed my arm and his touch felt cold, frozen. The icy feeling matched the fire in his eyes perfectly, as though rage lived there instead of a soul.
    “I’m doing this for you,” he said, his voice deranged and mad. His head snapped back as his mouth fell open. “Don’t you hear that song I’m singing? Didn’t you see the words I wrote for you?”
    Red liquid dripped from his lips as he sang:
     
    One, two, I see you.
    Three, four, kill some more.
    Five, six, bones like sticks.
    Seven, eight, blood to taste.
    Nine, ten, do it again.
    One, two, I’m coming for you...
     
    Beads of sweat moved down my scalp.
    I saw my words, red as blood, blaring in my mind: The sun falling down, painting the trees red.
    Burning lights flared in his black eyes. His hand became tight on my arm.
    “Let go!” I shouted, trying to pull my arm back in a weak attempt that only made him grip harder.
    My strength vanished, my emotions gone.
    His other hand shot to my throat and grew tight around it. His head twitched from side to side rapidly, turning nearly full circle like an owl’s. I heard his neck crack, break .
    At once his voice was calm and too steady, monotone, different.
    A new voice, as if he was not what he had been: “I won’t stop until you’re dead, and you have two days left.”
    My heart caught in my throat. “ What? ”
    Time froze.
    The wind stopped blowing.
    My heart was about to explode when suddenly the half-moon seemed to shine brighter, framing us in a second of light. That was all I needed to make a move. I didn’t think. I grabbed my arm back and ran toward where I knew Mom would be.
    “Two days!” Dad screamed after me as I ran, his voice a growl.
    The words ran after me, speeding down the street trying to catch me.
    “I’m coming for you...” I heard him hiss.
    I didn’t stop running until I reached my front porch.
    I looked behind me.
    No one.
    A headache was starting to form deep in my head, warning me of my impending nightmares. Dizzy static, tinted blue, threatened me.
    I grabbed the door handle, turned, and pushed.
    The house was dark, mimicking the blackness of the night, though it felt much different. It smelled familiar, like home. I instantly locked the door and felt better.
    Kate.
    Dad.
    Kate.
    Dad.
    My thoughts rushed together in a sea of something terrible.
    I didn’t even bother taking my shoes off as I lay down on my bed. A ghostly wind beat harshly against my closed window. I heard a crack like someone’s neck was being broken.
    I jumped.
    My fingers ran over my birthmark. Then, almost instantly, I was asleep.
    I dreamt a lament that night, a horrid song of lingering misery of moments I could never leave behind.
     
    Black night shivers.
    Cold memory lingers.
    Red eyes burn.
    One thousand beautiful reasons to live,
    And I can only think of one to die.
    Father.
    Shadow around every corner,
    False warmth in every smile.
    Black.
    The whole world becomes black with him.
    It is a nightmare.
    Horror.
     
    When I awoke during night’s chorus, shivering, hands like ice, I had forgotten it completely. My only thoughts were cold memories of Dad and Kate.
    I tried to forget.
    I fell back to sleep hoping-
    ignorance would be my complete bliss.
     

 
     
     
    -Kate-
     
     
    He was in pain. I could tell.
    As he dreamt, horror traced his face in jagged lines. Sweat poured