Moonlit Man (bxb)

Chapter 1 - Night Terrors

Dreams. 

Sam often pondered what happened when the human brain took the reins while the physical body had completed its shift for the day. He thought about how the deepest part of a person's being, their worries, sadness, and secrets floated around in a metaphysical world that seemed to reveal itself when the moon was at its brightest. It was always in the back of his mind. It was time, time to slip into that world again.

This was a rough one for Sam. Beads of sweat ran down his contoured face, into his honey-brown hair that now turned black due to the moisture. What ensued was a recurring thing for him. The feeling of sharpness that cut past his temples, making its way to the center of his forehead, forcing the two faint wrinkles on his skin twinge with dread. His almond-shaped eyes bolted side-to-side under his eyelids which clenched sporadically. His slim frame curled up and began to quiver as the cold sweats intensified while quiet, undistinguishable words muttered from his full lips.

"No... please... Daddy stop – you're hurting her!" He was now entrenched in that mystical world which he dreaded to enter. On this night, it looked and felt exactly like his childhood home in Granbury, Texas. He was back in that narrow walkway in that three-bedroom house, covered in dark wooden flooring that ran across the hallway and into the kitchen. The kitchen itself was a modest one that housed the usual appliances alongside the four walls with a small wooden table in the center.

Sam could remember the peeling wallpaper under the marmalade cabinets, the rickety sound of the table as its weight shifted, and the smell of strong tobacco and beer that often permeated the kitchen when his father returned from work, late at night.

"You think I will have this type of behavior under my roof? What were you gonna do? Steal my money and take the boy with you?" Sam could see the four wooden chairs tipped over and pieces of his mother's yellow clay pot scattered in pieces on the floor, along with a few crumpled twenty-dollar bills. He looked up and saw his mother bent over the table with her face pinned down on it, facing the doorway where Sam was standing.

Upon seeing her son, she struggled and winced further, making the loose curls of her honey-brown hair scatter across her face and the table, revealing only her eyes and mouth. Her efforts were useless under the thick weight of his hairy arms. His grip on the back of her neck only seemed to tighten.

"Step back, baby...don't come in here", his mother exclaimed, growing more and more breathless. Her arms were also pressed down behind her back, her face was reddening from the pressure.

"Daddy, stop– you're hurting her!" Sam cried out while clutching a blue blanket his mother had hand-sewn for him on his 6th birthday.

"Go back to bed, boy -– if you know what's good for you. I'll deal with this bitch," his father spat while a thick layer of cigarette smoke lingered around him. He stomped out of the room like a captain of a ship, dealing with a sailor who had sticky fingers.

"Don't you dare speak to him, you monster," his mother sneered, followed by a few shaky groans. She managed to get herself up as her hands instinctively crossed over her chest. Sam saw his father's feet stomp their way back into the kitchen. He could see the cold yet determined expression on his father's face; he saw his belt, the perforated end wrapped tightly around his knuckles. The fake brass buckle dragged behind him, scraping across the floor.

Sam remained frozen in the doorway, watching as his father blew past him. Without saying a word, he swung the belt at her. He did it with such speed that she had no time to retreat or duck, or even raise a protective arm. She touched her fingers to her temple, looked at the blood, looked at him with astonishment. It lasted only a moment or two, this look of disbelief, before it was replaced by something hateful. She tried to push him away and run towards Sam – but she was grabbed by the thick arms of her husband.

He caught her, threw her face down against the table once more, and struck her with the belt – again and again, the buckle slamming against her back, her head, her shoulders, her arms, her fingers, drawing blood wherever it struck.

"Take this as a lesson, boy– actions have consequences. Never let anyone disrespect you as a man." He spat in a coarse voice.

"It's okay, mijo... turn around and go to your room – mama will be up there in a minute". She winced while a tear speckled down her cheek and hit the table. "Please baby – go," she whispered, attempting to create a false sense of security for Sam. His mother was now trembling at this point. She looked like a gazelle caught in the teeth of a bear trap as it awaited its fate. Her honey-colored eyes shot from side to side as she grimaced at the rattling sound of her husband's belt.

The quivering words of his mother further added to the feeling of dread growing inside him. A lukewarm sensation seeped down his right leg that quickly turned cool. Sam looked down and could see a damp patch on his blue-colored pajama pants. Suddenly, he heard a large, sudden crash that sent shudders racing down his spine.

Then it all turned to black.

The blackness fluttered and turned to reality as if a faulty light switch had flickered back on. He shot up from the bed with his blanket sticking to his body and puffs of air escaping him as he tried to regain composure. He was now back, back in the real world, in the safety of his dorm. He reached for his phone and saw the time – 4.46 a.m.

"Fuck", Sam muttered to himself. It was just a nightmare.