Full Moon

A crawling sound echoed through the hallway — something between nails scraping on stone and the slow crunch of bones dragging across the floor. Indra froze for a moment, the revolver shaking in his hand. Ben, struggling to get up from the ground, coughed hoarsely as blood trickled from a gash on his forehead.

Ottis, still standing at the center of the pentagram, looked like he was in a trance. His eyes were pitch black now, like empty, bottomless pits. His breathing was heavy, deep… perfectly synchronized with the red pulse emanating from the symbol on the floor.

"He is… waking up," Ottis rasped, his voice distant and hollow. "The Veil has been torn."

The room's temperature plummeted. Their flashlights began to flicker wildly, crackling in irregular bursts as if something was warping the very magnetic field around them. And then, from the darkness of the hallway, it emerged.

First came the hands: long, skeletal, with unnaturally elongated fingers and twisted joints. Then the silhouette crawled into view — contorted, grotesque, moving on all fours with its head unnaturally craned upward, defying human anatomy.

The creature looked like it was made of solid shadow. It had no skin, only a body covered in something like living soot, pulsing as if it were raw, newborn flesh. Its eyes — if they could even be called eyes — were burning holes, glowing like coals lit with black fire.

Indra could barely breathe. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to run, but his legs were frozen in place.

The creature halted at the entrance of the room, sniffing the air like a predator savoring the scent of fear.

Then it spoke.

But no words left its mouth. Instead, a chorus of countless voices reverberated inside their minds, ancient and discordant, speaking languages no human was meant to know.

> "The blood has summoned. The gate is open. Where is the traitor?"

Ottis fell to his knees and spread his arms wide, as if welcoming the creature's embrace.

"I brought you here, as commanded! The sacrifice is complete!"

The creature tilted its head, and for a moment, the entire room was swallowed in an oppressive wave of darkness. When the light flickered back, Dean was gone. No body, no blood. As if he had never existed.

The voices returned, this time furious, shaking the floor beneath their feet. The pentagram began to fade.

The creature glided forward and dissolved into a cloud of putrid black smoke, which poured into Ottis's body, snuffing out any last trace of his humanity.

Razor-sharp teeth erupted from Ottis's mouth, stretching into jagged fangs. His hands twisted into claws, skin peeling away in rancid, greenish chunks as his body contorted, growing into a monstrous, deformed humanoid with limbs too long and muscles pulsing as if they had a life of their own.

A low, guttural roar thundered down the hallways.

"No… no…" Indra gasped, pulling his shaking hand to his bag and drawing the revolver.

The thing that was once Ottis lunged with inhuman speed, claws raised to tear them apart.

BANG!

The gunshot exploded through the decaying walls of the asylum. The silver bullet struck the creature square in the chest, tearing a shriek of agony from its throat. Bones cracked, and a dark, acrid smoke billowed from the wound.

Indra didn't wait to see if it was enough. He grabbed Ben tightly, slinging his friend's arm over his shoulders, and began running through the claustrophobic hallways of the asylum.

Broken doors slammed in the wind, whispers hissed from the shadows. Ahead, pale moonlight streamed through shattered windows — the way out.

They sprinted toward it. Behind them, the creature roared, shaking the building's foundations. Doors flew open by themselves, windows shattered inward, and old symbols ignited across the asylum's walls, burning with invisible fire.

The darkness chased them like a ravenous beast. But they were still alive.

At least for now.

Indra and Ben sprinted down the dark corridors of the sanatorium, the creature roaring behind them like living thunder. The sound of claws scraping across the floor echoed through the halls, mingling with shattering glass and the violent banging of rusted doors.

With every step, the building shuddered, crumbling bits of plaster and rotten beams falling from the ceiling. The air was suffocating—thick with the stench of burning, sulfur, and decay, searing their nostrils.

They reached the main staircase, but a massive impact from above shattered part of the steps, nearly sending them tumbling backward.

"HOLD ON!" Indra shouted, grabbing Ben's backpack just in time to stop him from plunging into the gap.

Their flashlight beams flickered wildly as they descended, illuminating only flashes of deeper darkness. Suddenly, something darted in front of them—a translucent, humanoid figure that slipped through the wall with a muffled scream. They both nearly tripped in fright.

"What the HELL was that?" Ben rasped, voice raw with panic.

"Ghosts, or something! KEEP GOING!"

On the final flight of stairs, a flock of crows exploded from the shadows, swirling around them in a storm of black wings. The deafening cacophony mocked every desperate step.

At last, they reached the ground floor. The massive entrance doors were flung wide open, but the darkness outside seemed just as thick and impenetrable as the nightmare within. Still, they didn't hesitate.

As they stepped into the night, the icy wind slashed at them like blades. Outside, the trees thrashed violently, as if trying to rip themselves from the earth. Thunder cracked across the sky, revealing for a brief moment the silhouette of the creature standing in the doorway—taller, more grotesque, growing more monstrous with each passing second.

"THE CAR!" Indra yelled, pointing to where they'd left the vehicles.

They bolted down the muddy path, but as they neared the cars, their hope shattered: the vehicles were utterly destroyed—windshields smashed, doors twisted, tires flattened—as if something massive had crushed them.

"NO!" Ben screamed, his voice breaking.

The forest around them came alive with unsettling sounds: branches snapping in empty air, fleeting shadows darting between trees, whispers in languages they couldn't understand. It felt like countless things were closing in on them.

The forest pulsed with a warped, predatory life. Every brittle branch that cracked beneath their feet beat like a drum of doom. The air was thick with a metallic tang—blood, maybe. Or something worse.

Behind them, the crawling sound grew nearer.

Not a roar.

Not a scream.

Just the relentless scrape of claws over dead leaves, the snap of twigs breaking with sickening precision. And sometimes… a muffled whisper that seemed to come from inside their own minds.

"Don't look back!" Ben gasped.

But Indra looked.

A silhouette—too thin, too long. A twisted body that defied reason, moving impossibly fast between the trees, like a shadow cast by a fire that didn't exist. Its eyes… two burning red voids, locked on them.

"This way!" Indra shouted, dragging Ben toward a root-covered embankment.

They slipped, fell, tumbled through damp leaves and cold earth. The creature shrieked—a sound like someone drowning in ashes.

Above them, like a lifeline in the chaos, a thick steel cable—possibly part of an old electrical system—stretched from a tree up to the ridge near the campsite.

"If we can climb that… we might make it back to the clearing!"

Indra said, swallowing the pain from a gash on his arm.

The creature was almost upon them now. They felt its presence like feverish heat on the backs of their necks.

Ben grabbed the cable.

"Go! Climb first!"

"No, you go!" Indra barked, shoving him upward.

Ben scrambled up, moving with desperate speed—because his life depended on it. Indra followed close behind. The creature reached the bottom of the slope, staring up at them.

It rose onto its hind legs, revealing exposed bones and pulsing muscle. Its claws sank into the wet earth.

It was about to leap.

Indra kicked a loose branch, hitting the creature square in the face. It staggered—just long enough.

Ben reached the top, pale moonlight spilling over him.

"Take my hand!" he yelled, stretching his arm down.

Indra grabbed it, and Ben hauled him up. The moment Indra's feet left the cable and landed in the clearing, the moonlight bathed them both.

The creature emerged from the treeline seconds later… and froze.

On the threshold of the forest's darkness, it writhed. Its skin began to sizzle, smoke rising from its joints. It let out a roar of pure frustration, recoiling into the shadows as if burned by an invisible fire.

Indra collapsed to his knees, gasping. Ben fell beside him, pale and drenched in sweat.

"What… the hell… was that?"

Ben whispered, eyes wide with horror.

"I don't know… but the moonlight…"

They looked up. The full moon glowed massive and silent overhead, a silver disc that seemed the only thing keeping them safe from what lurked among the trees.

For a moment, the campsite felt like a sanctuary. Surrounded by a living darkness—yes—but shielded by the fragile blade of silver light from the sky.

They knew they were safe. But they also knew it wouldn't last.

The creature now knew exactly where they were.

And it was waiting for the moon to move.

The camp clearing looked like an oasis of light in the pitch-black sea of the forest. The full moon hung high, its glow washing over the tents and grass, creating a fragile circle of safety. Beyond it, shadows stirred, and the sound of snapping branches signaled the creature was still out there—prowling, hungry.

Indra collapsed to his knees beside Ben, gasping for breath. His right forearm was torn open, blood dripping warm between his fingers. Ben, his face partly covered in blood from a deep gash on his head, was trembling. Both of them fumbled open their first-aid kits with shaking hands.

"D-Don't move."

Indra's voice wavered with pain and adrenaline as he pulled the antiseptic spray from his kit and began cleaning Ben's wound.

The sharp smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of blood and damp earth. Ben hissed, clenching his fists against the sting. Indra then wrapped his friend's head in gauze, tying it tight.

"Thank you…" Ben murmured weakly.

"You… you saw what he did to Dean, didn't you?"

Indra swallowed hard as he opened his own kit to treat the gash on his arm. He soaked a cloth with saline and cleaned the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"I saw." His voice came out almost as a whisper. "Ottis… he… he turned into something. He wasn't human anymore. And Dean…" The memory of their friend being torn apart sent a shiver down his spine.

Ben took a shaky breath, clutching the sides of his head as if trying to keep his thoughts from shattering.

"He was our friend…" Ben's voice cracked.

"How did this happen? How did he turn into… that?"

Indra tied the bandage around his forearm, feeling the cut throb. His gaze drifted to the trees surrounding the clearing, where dense shadows seemed to move with a life of their own. At one point, yellow eyes flashed briefly in the darkness, followed by a low growl.

"I don't know, Ben." Indra forced himself to stay calm. "But we have to get out of here before the moon is covered. When the clouds pass over, the clearing will go dark… and that thing will be able to reach us."

They both looked up at the sky: thick clouds were slowly advancing, pushed along by a cold breeze.

"We can't stay here." Ben tried to stand but staggered. Indra caught him just in time.

"Maybe we can climb those taller trees over there."

Indra pointed to a line of towering pines at the edge of the clearing.

"If we can get high enough, maybe the creature won't be able to follow."

Heavy footsteps circled the clearing, shifting from left to right. The shadows writhed as if the darkness itself was alive. Each crack of a branch made them flinch.

"Climb?" Ben looked at Indra's injured arm and his own unsteady legs. "Do you really think we can?"

Indra met his friend's gaze, fear and determination mixing on his face. Then he pulled the last bullet from his pocket, loaded it into the revolver, and locked the cylinder with a metallic click.

"We don't have a choice, Ben. When the moon disappears, we either climb… or we die."

A low howl echoed beyond the tree line, dragging out like a promise of death. They both knew time was running out.

As they took turns helping each other tighten bandages and organize what was left of their backpacks, they kept casting anxious glances at the moon, silently begging it to hold the clouds at bay just a little longer.

The moonlit clearing was their only salvation—and the moon's clock was ticking.