Bloodmoon :The Descendants

Chapter 5

Rachel went inside her house and she found herself standing in her own kitchen, her thirst driving her to seek solace in a glass of water. The moon cast a overcast glow through the window as Rachel filled her glass. But as she sipped the water, a suffocating silence descended upon her. The usual sounds of the night had vanished, replaced by an unsettling stillness that made her skin crawl. Suddenly, a barrage of hard knocks shattered the silence, echoing through the house like a sinister drumbeat. Rachel's heart raced as she placed the glass on the counter. The knocking grew louder and more frantic with each passing moment.

"I'm coming," she whispered, her voice trembling, as she made her way to the front door. With trembling hands, Rachel turned the doorknob. A rush of wind surged into the house, causing her hair to billow backward. She squinted against the gust, her eyes involuntarily closing. When she opened them again, the outside world had was covered with fog. There was no one at the door, no wind, only an eerie, oppressive silence that hung in the air like a thick fog. Rachel stood there, bewildered, her heart pounding. Slowly, she retreated back into her house, locking the door securely behind her. The fear that had taken hold of her wouldn't subside, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. As she stepped further into her darkened home, the lights suddenly went out, plunging her into complete darkness. Panic gripped her, and she fumbled for her phone, using its flashlight to pierce the blackness.

"S-Show yourself!" Rachel stammered, her voice quivering. "I'm calling the cops!"

A soft, eerie chuckle seemed to emanate from the shadows, sending shivers down her spine. Rachel strained to see, her flashlight revealing nothing but empty rooms. Then, she heard it—a faint, ominous sound, like footsteps descending the stairs. Fear gnawed at her as she followed the noise, her phone's flashlight revealing a pair of ghostly hands, adorned with old, stained rings and long, black nails, protruding from the tattered folds of a cloak.

"Who are you?" Rachel demanded, her voice shaky.

The mysterious woman remained silent, her relentless approach sending Rachel stumbling backward until she fell to the floor. The cloaked figure drew nearer, its grotesque hand reaching out to touch Rachel's forehead. The moment it made contact, an agonizing heat seared through her, and she screamed in pain. Rachel felt like she was burning alive, her vision blurred as the woman performed some vile act upon her. It was a nightmare too horrifying to comprehend. Just then, a loud knock on the door shattered the nightmare. Rachel gasped, snapping out of her trance. The glass slipped from her trembling hand and shattered on the floor. She realized she was back in her kitchen, not on the floor of her house.

"Why do these dreams feel so real?" she muttered to herself, her heart still racing.

The door was knocked upon again, this time with more urgency. Rachel took a deep breath and approached it cautiously. As she opened the door, her friend Alex stood there, concern etched across his face.

"Rachel, are you okay?" she asked.

Rachel was shaken but relieved to see a familiar face. "I am okay, come in ."

Alex stepped inside, her expression turning grim. "what took you so long?"

Rachel came to her senses when she realized that she invited Alex over for tea, hoping the comfortable atmosphere of her dimly lit living room would encourage her friend to open up. They settled onto the couch, holding their steaming mugs. Rachel's eyes were filled with concern as she looked at Alex.

Alex took a deep breath, her gaze falling to the tea in her hands. She hesitated for a moment before finally breaking her silence.

"It was supposed to be a romantic night," she began in a trembling voice. "We were walking hand in hand, the moonlight filtering through the trees. But then, we heard something—a rustling, deep in the woods."