Bad Moon Rising

by Fracus

Don't go round tonight, its bound to take your life, there's a bad moon on the rise. please read and reviewPreFDTD M for violence, langu. and poss. latersexuality

1. Prologue: 'Bad Moon Rising'

Author's Note: I do not own any part of the movie 'From Dusk Till Dawn'. In addition, please read the introduction it may seem like blathering but it is important to the story, if it bores you I implore you to continue reading because the following chapters much more action driven and the Gecko brothers come into play. Please remember to review! Enjoy.

She turned her eyes upward to watch a dusty gray sparrow flit listlessly in the seething dessert wind. It was a phantom moment; one of those transitions of complete serenity. All sounds were muted and time was stilled. Surrender so pure in nature that it could only be, as the tolling of a bell, an arch into a new chapter the end of which could not be foreseen. She crossed the street and watched the sparrow.

Or watched the sparrow and crossed the street.

She watched the sparrow.

She didn't hear the Fogerty brothers twang inside her headphones or the nondescript chime of a bell signaling a person's exit from Ruby's Diner. She watched the sparrow, till the first page in a new book opened; one she had never intended to be written into. She watched the sparrow till the car knocked the wind out of her lungs, the blood out of her nose, the marrow out of her bones, the feet out of her cruddy trainers. The car clipped her outstretched leg mid-step and knocked her over and on to the hood. The windshield made a dull crunch as her left shoulder slammed the protective glass making a violent spider web of cracks. The car abruptly halted and she rolled off the edge of the hood and her face said a bloody hello to the unyielding pavement. There was pain; immutable and all encompassing. Her face was slick with blood like a new born and she lay motionless on the ground, eyes closed. If she never opened them it didn't have to be real. The warm blood pooling under her face, the ripped and broken fingers, the arm that inside was now a puzzle of chalk white splinters; it didn't have to be real if she never opened her eyes. But the noise couldn't be helped. The noise burst upon her like the sun to one blind.