TO LIE WITH MIDNIGHT ROSES

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RENESSA

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*TW// Gory descriptions, death, blood, etc//*

The telescope was set up.

The glass was cleaned and thrown away, and my father had replaced the lightbulb earlier the previous night.

My mother had stripped my bed and a new comforter took the place of the old one.

My hands felt tingly again. I could feel a sense of energy, stronger than last night. I felt almost weightless, lightheaded even but my veins pulsed from searing blood.    

My mother's to my right, sitting on the bed beside me.

"It's almost time." She smiles. "It's going to be so beautiful, can't you feel it?"

"I feel..." I'm quiet for a moment as I rub the tips of my index fingers with my thumbs, feeling a small spark of electricity as they collide. "I feel energized."

"As do I. The blue moon has that effect on us women in the family. Grandma felt it too." She says, "You are special you know."

"What do you mean?" I ask. Looking up at her now, she takes my right hand in her left and she's about to tell me, I can see it on her face. She's going to tell me why I feel this way, maybe she'll even explain everything to me but then suddenly both our jaws tense. Our bodies suddenly came to a still,  our chests refusing to move as we hold our breath.

There's a crash downstairs. A hard thud. I can hear my father now - yelling. T

here are voices, many voices. Three or four, maybe if I can guess. Then there's more crashing. I hear my father still - his voice trembling and shaky. His voice is so unusual. A tone I've never heard before.

Mother tells me to hide but I'm frozen. She's whispering but yelling all at the same time, grabbing me by my arms now as my head spins and she's trying to shove me inside the closet but then she's torn off me.

Pale hands grip her arms and she screams. I scream.

It's loud and then it's not.

The wind howls, blowing through my hair and tangling it around my face, whipping across my skin as I shiver. It was cold. My eyes blurred with tears. My ears were ringing.

The sound of branches snapping under heavy boots along with my mother's muffled pleas and cries, the sound of glass clinking together inside a wooden box and heavy breathing were the only sounds I could hear.

Strong hands gripped my arms leading me through the forest behind our house.  My mother and father walked up ahead, two large men holding them as we manoeuvred through the thick leafy branches. Another man was off to the side, carrying the box.

There was nothing I could do but follow.

Then we stop. In the middle of the forest, they take my mother and shove her down to the ground as she lands hard on her knees. A tall, slender man stands before her and the moon glimmers off the knife he holds in his hand. Near his feet sits the wooden box filled with vials. Bottles upon bottles, empty but topped with corks.

My father was held off the side, the man that stood behind him looked similar to the one in front of my mother. Something about both of them seemed off, lifeless almost. They were pale, too pale to have been out in the summer sun. Too pale to be from around here.

The moon above gleamed a silvery-blue, as the stars sparkled in its glow. Branches above swayed in the warm breeze, the rustling sound hushing my mother's whispering pleas. I try to free myself from the unknown grasp of the person behind me when her voice whispers into my ear.