The Moon's Howl

It was a summer night just like this one. The air was heavy with the smell of burning logs, and the forest hummed with the quiet symphony of crickets and rustling leaves. Rick Cage sat by the campfire, its dim light licking the edges of the trees, casting distorted shadows that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking. He tilted his head back, gazing at the moon, caught in its beauty. It hung there, luminous and perfect, glowing against the inky black sky.

"You like that, huh?" his cousin's voice broke the trance, gruff yet oddly playful. "You like the moon's howl?"

Rick turned to his long-distance cousin, Liam, who sat across the fire with a sly grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What the heck is a moon howl?" Rick asked, his tone light but tinged with unease.

Liam leaned forward, his face illuminated by the flickering firelight. "You've never heard of the Moon's Howl? Oh, man, you're in for a treat." He poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks into the night air. "It's not wolves, if that's what you're thinking. No, it's… something else. Something from the other side."

Rick frowned. "The other side of what?"

"Reality," Liam said flatly. His tone was so matter-of-fact, it sent a chill crawling up Rick's spine.

"They say," Liam began, his voice low and conspiratorial, "that when the moon is full and at its peak, creatures slip through the cracks. Not wolves, but something worse. They come from the shadows—the spaces under your bed, the corner of your closet, the gaps between here and there. The other side."

Rick shifted uncomfortably on the log he was sitting on, the fire suddenly feeling too warm against his skin. "What do they want?"

Liam's grin widened. "Hosts."

"Hosts?"

"They howl at the moon," Liam explained, "to call to us. It's their way of saying they're ready. Ready to take over, to slip into your skin and live your life as if they've always been you. And the worst part? You'd never even know."

Rick swallowed hard. "That's ridiculous."

"Maybe," Liam said with a shrug. "But I heard a story once. Two people—just regular folks—were out late on a night like this. They heard it: the Moon's Howl. At first, they thought it was just some wild animal. But then… they started seeing them. Shadows that didn't move right. Eyes glowing in the dark, watching. And when the howling stopped, they realized too late—it wasn't because the creatures were gone. It was because they were inside."

The campfire crackled loudly, snapping Rick back to the present. Liam was watching him closely, his eyes reflecting the flames like molten gold.

"That's… quite a story," Rick said, forcing a laugh.

Liam leaned back, satisfied. "Yeah, well, it's just a story."

But then Rick heard it.

A low, mournful wail echoed through the forest, rising and falling like a siren in the distance. It wasn't the howl of a wolf—no, it was deeper, more guttural, like something struggling to breathe.

Rick froze. "What was that?"

Liam's face was unreadable, but his eyes darted toward the trees. "Relax, it's probably just—"

The howl came again, closer this time.

Rick's heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the dark forest beyond the firelight. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist, creeping closer. His breath hitched when he saw something—a shape, vaguely human but wrong. Its limbs were too long, its movements jerky, as if it were a puppet on invisible strings.

The howl pierced the night again, and Rick realized with dawning horror that it wasn't coming from the creature. It was coming from the moon itself, a deep, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate through his very bones.

"They're here," Liam whispered, his voice trembling.

The fire sputtered and died, plunging them into darkness. Rick could feel the weight of unseen eyes on him, the oppressive presence of something ancient and hungry.

"Liam," he hissed, his voice barely audible. "What do we do?"

But Liam was gone. The log he'd been sitting on was empty, as if he'd never been there at all.

Rick staggered to his feet, his legs weak and trembling. He turned in frantic circles, the shadows closing in around him. And then he felt it—a hand, cold and clammy, resting on his shoulder.

He spun around, but there was nothing there.

The howl rose again, louder, closer, drowning out his thoughts. He clutched his head, trying to block it out, but it was inside him now, reverberating through his skull.

And then… silence.

Rick opened his eyes. The moon was gone, the sky a void of inky blackness. The forest was empty, still. He looked down at his hands, trembling and pale. They didn't feel like his own.

Was he still Rick Cage? Or had the creatures from the other side found their host?

We'll never know.