Once, when I was younger, I had told my mother that I saw a monster under my bed. She laughed and sat down to talk to me at my little tea-table.

"Lizzybear, sweety, sometimes, when we get scared, our subconscious makes us see and hear things that aren't actually there. This is the cause of most dreams we call 'nightmares'. Don't be afraid of anything, my dear, because Mummy and Daddy will never, ever let anything happen to our little princess."

What she said led me to think I was smarter, and had more control over myself. Some nights, after Father would tell me scary stories, I wouldn't just tell myself they don't exist, but instead, I just told myself that I was stronger than them. And they were afraid of me. Just making them disappear seemed boring, lacking in imagination, so when I stared under my bed, thinking I was facing monsters, I would say "BOO." And not be afraid anymore. Mother said I inherited this trait from Father, saying
"That's exactly what father does when he comes across something scary. He simply becomes even more frightening."

. . .

The cold I felt gradually spreading throughout my entire body had stopped. I had two options: I would shut the door, and turn around, going straight back into my room, or I could walk outside, and finally look at the moon. Either way, Mother and Father would absolutely not find out.

I listened to the wind whisper around the house, letting my curiosity settle into something more. Something that began to control my body. I felt the seconds go by, the clocks in the house, ticking. What was something that would occasionally lull me to sleep was now a loud throb in my ears. With each tick I would take a baby step forward, and with each tock, my anxiety rose. I continued to do this, slowly gaining more confidence, like everything was okay. It's just dark, that's all.

"Things can hide in the dark, my dear."

I jumped, letting a small yelp escape my lips, turning my head furiously, in all directions, before realizing that no one was with me. I was just recalling something my Father said. I began to chuckle at my weakness. I couldn't accept the fact I was scared. Scared of what may be in front of me. I can't let my fear get the better of me.

I straightened out my posture, breathed heavily, and took that first step outside, feeling the grass slither beneath me, wet from dew. There was a calm breeze, making the shadows dance frivolously across the lawn. Surprisingly this wasn't scary at all. The air was humid, and warm, almost giving off a sense of comfort. My eyes adjusting quickly, and soon I saw our picket fence, illuminated by the moon's light. The moon!

I smiled, and tilted my head upwards, breathing in the fresh night air. No diseases here, mum. The scenery had me taken aback. Stars, twinkling from every corner of a sky that was multiple shades of blue and purple. It was dazzling. I shuffled my feet and began to turn in circles, embracing the midnight lights. When finally, the biggest light of them all was within my vision. The moon, far more enchanting than any picture I've ever seen. I felt a huge grin appear on my face, the words escaped from my lips,

"So beautiful."

And then, like white to black, the cold returned. The shadows stretching across the ground no longer seemed pretty, but rather eerie. I looked down, almost frightened. Like suddenly the moon wasn't bright anymore. I stared at my shoes, only seeing darkness below me. I leaned down to feel the blades of grass, scared by how the ground seemed further away now. Everything seemed wrong now. Like when the printer doesn't work, and the paper appears vibrant in some places, and dark, dull in other. Something that shouldn't creep you out, but it does, and you feel so helpless because of it.

Just like out of one of Father's scary stories, something suddenly moved out in the distance, and I heard branches braking, leaves rubbing against something. There's something in the ash tree. I had a scary feeling that this thing was there the whole time. Waiting, until I would let my guard down.

I focused my attention on the curvy tree, which now looked distorted and alive, when I spotted it. Something large, and hunched over, high in the tree, hiding themselves behind the bushes, looking at me, watching me. It looked bigger than me, but not exactly twice my size. I assumed if it stood straight it would have at least a foot on me. The thought made me cower.

I took a step backwards, closer to the door. I kept my eyes open, motionless, staring at the figure.
I swallowed and whispered, weakly,

"I'm not afraid."

Whatever it was must have heard me, because it reacted by swinging down and sitting on a lower branch, one without any leaves. I tried my hardest not to let the darkness play tricks on me, and squinted my eyes at the creature. I built up whatever courage I had left in me, and took a slow step closer, so I could see it in a better light.

The branch shook, and my breathing stopped so abruptly I thought I was going to fall over from shock. I hadn't felt fear like that before. Where everything feels so numb, so cold, it almost burns. The air suddenly felt heavier, like if I were to make an attempt to run away, I would drag my feet, not being able to move, caught, like bait in a trap, waiting for my demise. I blinked, like it was one of the biggest decisions I could make. Like taking my eyes off of this thing for even a second could be crucial.

Red. Like the color of blood. Two lights, peering at me, like lasers. Brighter than any star. I sensed goose bumps appearing all over me when I realized that those were indeed it's eyes. Watching me, like I was its prey. Waiting for me to make a move, give a blind spot, so it could swoop down here and kill me. Why didn't I just stay inside? Why did I have to be so selfish? What is that thing?! What does it want? Is it harmless? I don't remember harmless things looking at you like you're a piece of meat; furthermore, it's looking at me with RED EYES. That are GLOWING.

But then, I wasn't curious anymore. I didn't care what it was. I wanted to be as far away from it as possible. I breathed out, making a lot more noise than I expected, almost startling the creature.

3…

It put a hand down on the branch, looking as if it was about to swing down once again. Leaning forward, its eyes glowed even brighter, like they were the only thing outside that had color, and in comparison, everything around it seemed black. A deathly black. And I felt like a 'deer in the headlights.' Only I didn't think it was just going to run me over.

2…

I straightened my posture again, making myself seem bigger. Humming to my petty little mind, I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid. But it didn't work. The part that was missing was the they're more afraid of you. I doubted with every bone in my body that shouting, "BOO!" would work in this situation. For all I knew, it could be a trigger word, and he would be charging at me with unknown speed, making his first kill of the night. Or his second. Or third. Or…

…1!

I turned my body as fast as I possibly could, prayed that I wouldn't slip on the moist grass, and fled back into the house, slamming the door behind me. Without looking, I locked the door, and slid down it, landing in a fetal position. A tear streamed down my face.

"Just what the hell was that thing?!"

I was now sobbing, cradling myself in my shivering arms. Replaying the same thing over and over in my head. Those eyes. Those cold, blood-colored, deadly eyes. My breath was short, like I had been running miles. My heart was racing, on the verge of an attack, but I didn't feel numb anymore. Rather, I felt warm again. Like being inside of my house made everything safe again. In my house, monsters only existed in Father's stories. And then the thought dawned on me, seeping the word 'safe' back out of my mind, because it had no right to be there.

What if it's in the house? What if, when I wasn't looking, it came through the door? No, no, I shut it as soon as I came in.. It's not possible. .NO.

I heaved myself up, paying attention to how still everything in the house was. The clocks were still ticking, the windows, still shut. Blinds were still down. The house seemed normal. Unharmed. No noise, but it wasn't too quiet. I walked up to my room, with a little faster pace than usual, afraid that something might drag me into a dark closet. The hairs on the back of my neck were tingling, along with the goose bumps on my arms.

Once I was in my room, I locked my door, and sat on my bed. My lamp was on, and flickering a little. Though, this didn't bother me. It always flickered, ever since I hit it over playing tag with my Father at a young age. I took off my old boots and tossed them aside, then shimmered my jacket off. Afterwards, I lay back, resting my head on my pillow, stroking the duvet. My bed was very small, and held itself neatly tucked in the far corner of my room. I stared at my baby blue ceiling for a long time before feeling any hint of sleepiness. My room now felt smaller than before. As if it was closing in on me. I supposed being outside after a long time of confinement would do this to you. It made my room, my house, pale in comparison. Then I remembered the reason I stumbled my way out our back door. The moon. I tried remembering how beautiful it was, how the light of it magnificently showered down upon everything. But now it's like my memory was slurred. I can only remember looking up, and seeing the moon, as pretty as it is, with a deep tint of red.

Thinking there's no way a moon could be red, I suddenly remembered reading about something similar to that in a book about mythology. "Blood moon," it was called. I felt a surge of chills raced over my body. I sprung out of bed and quickly scanned my bookshelf for it.

"Mythology: Old Folktales and Legends"

Upon grabbing it, sliding another book off the shelf as well, I flipped the page to the tables of contents, under "B," like it was in bold print, I found it, and turned to page 35 to read to myself.

Blood Moon, also commonly called a "Hunter's Moon," is a full moon that comes the month after a Harvest Moon. Not to be overlooked, this moon is just as creepy as its name. In most legends, the Blood Moon is famous for its horror and gore that come along with it.
It is said that the number of supernatural occurrences often become magnified on this night, making it dangerous to roam about as you please. This is how it also earned the name of Hunter's Moon. Generally, there will be Lycanthropic and Vampyric hunters, out all night, tracking down and slaughtering these beasts, with the help of a few mystic seekers, or your average psychic.

I stopped and flipped to a different page, one on "Mystic Seekers."

Mystic Seekers are a hunter's sidekick. On a hunt, a mystic seeker will help a hunter by using psychic abilities to track down certain beasts. Usually, a seeker will only help one family his whole life, and even generations later. This is because of an old legend stating a seeker shall only guide the family that their ancestors chose. Seekers are mystic because their bloodline travels down from that of elven people. This is where they get their abilities from, as elves are very magical beings.

My eyes trailed off the page and I sad there, befuddled as ever. I remember reading this book before, but never was I so shaken by the information. But of course, I tried not to let it get to me, considering it was a book on MYTHOLOGY.

My head started to ache from confusion, so I sauntered my way into my bed, snuggling into my blankets, letting the fabric consume me for another night of rest. With my newfound experience and information, I doubted that my dreams would be anything of a pallet cleanser for me. I planned on getting information on what exactly happened that night. But how?

And then, my eyes slowly shut, and my mind was surrounded by darkness once again.