Follow the Moon— by Emma Murray

The television blares at me from across the room. Judy’s got it cranked up way too high again. It’s like they’re yelling at me. I look around. The remote’s missing.

“Judy, you seen the remote around?” I shout toward the stairway behind my chair. I wait a moment for a response. “Judy?”

A door creaks on its hinges.

“Mom, what is it? You know I’m at work.”

“It’s too loud, and I can’t find the remote.”

She stomps down the stairs, and when I see her face, I shrink back into the cushions. I watch her dig around in the corners of the couch, kneel down and peek underneath, rummage through the side table drawer. Standing in front of my chair, she gestures for me to stand up.

“Come on. I’ve gotta check to make sure you’re not sitting on it.”

She takes my hands and helps pull me to my feet, though I can’t contain my sigh. I know it’s not under me. She frowns and helps me back down.

“Did you put it somewhere strange again? I’ll check the fridge.”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s not there. Anyway, you had it last.” It doesn’t matter what I say, she doesn’t listen anymore. Nobody does. I shift my weight and look back at the television, some man screaming about laundry detergent. I remember hating laundry, stripping beds, waiting and forgetting, and all that folding. I didn’t know I could miss something I despised as much as I do. I long to stand up, walk with ease to the dryer, and pull out fresh, warm sheets, press them against my arms and face. It’s too much for me now.

“God, Mom, I found it in the bathroom.” Judy breezes right by me, softly dropping the remote on my lap as she heads for the stairs. I hear her mutter something on her way up. I think it was “disgusting.” I resent it. It wasn’t me that left it in there. I’d never do that.

Relief washes over me as I’m finally able to turn down that atrocious racket. On second thought, I turn the whole damn thing off. Sighing, I swivel my chair away from the black screen to face the window.

There’s a tree with a bird feeder hanging on one of the branches. Judy did that for me when I first came to stay with her. I’ve always liked to watch the little ones flitting from branch to branch. The afternoon sun peeks through the leaves, speckling the lawn with light. A goldfinch lands on the branch above the feeder, cocking its head inquisitively. I smile.

Suddenly, I notice a vine woven through the branches that wasn’t there before. It seems to move, slithering snakelike, its mass growing with every second. The bird tries to fly away, but as it does, it morphs into an unsettling shape, sharp, undulating through the air. It flashes in alternating dark and bright before disappearing. My smile has completely fallen away. My hands are shaking. The sky begins to vibrate with static. And still, the vine slips its way through the branches, overtaking the entire tree. It, too, has transformed, no longer a vine. No, now it pulses, purple and oozing blood. I watch it expand and constrict in the steady rhythm of breath. Beneath the static, a foreboding low drone emanates from the sickly thing. I close my eyes.

“Judy! Help me!”

Beneath the cacophony, I hear the creaking door. Her footsteps fly down the stairs again. All goes quiet.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” She’s grabbing my hand, her voice breathless. I open my eyes. The tree is as it always was. The goldfinch pecks at the feeder.

“What happened?” I ask. Judy is crying.

“I thought something terrible had happened. Don’t scare me like that!” She sounds upset, but she’s smiling through the tears. The corner of my mouth twitches up, but I can’t shake the terror from before, still running like ice water through my veins.

 The television is on again. Muted, its blue light casting long shadows across the floor. I don’t remember me or Judy turning it back on. Strange.

I turn to the window, and it’s nearly twilight. The tree looms dark and haggard; its limbs bare and clawing at the sky.

“Judy? What happened to the leaves?”

No one answers. A blanket is on my lap. I don’t remember Judy bringing me that.

“Judy?”

Still no answer. A clock is ticking somewhere in the room. There wasn’t a clock there earlier today. I don’t understand. 

A shadow steps out from the kitchen. 

“Is that you, Judy?” I ask, but I know it isn’t her.

Tall and silent, the shadow man watches me. My stomach drops through a trapdoor. I lose my grip on the moment, and it slips away.

I’m at the doctor’s office. Judy is here, holding my hand. The doctor is talking. What was his name again? My face burns with embarrassment. How could I forget? I’ve been seeing him half my life. At least Judy’s here.

“Do you understand, Mrs. Parker?”

“Uh, yes.”

It doesn’t matter that I don’t. Judy will explain it to me later, I’m sure. I look down at my hands, clasped on top of the hospital gown. When did they become so sinewy, so spotted? And where’s my wedding band? I don’t remember taking it off. They don’t look like my hands at all.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“What?”

I look up at my daughter, her eyes full of concern. I begin to tremble under the weight of it all. How did I get here? What happened to my hands?

“Yes. I’m fine, dear. Just fine.”

“Do you want to try the medication Dr. Olsen recommended, or do those side effects sound like too much? I mean, you seem okay most of the time. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

Dr. Olsen, yes, that’s his name. How could I have forgotten? How silly of me.

“Oh, you’re probably right. You always know what’s best for me.”

Judy nods. Dr. Olsen is looking at me like a specimen. It makes me squirm. I hate it. I want him to leave.

“Can you make him go?” I reach out to my daughter. She takes my hand.

“Mom, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Are you feeling a bit confused right now, Mrs. Parker?”

The way he’s looking at me, I can’t stand it. He must’ve taken my ring. Probably plans to pawn it, melt it down for its gold. I know who he is. Not Dr. Olsen. No, that’s Christopher, Jeremy’s little brother. I never liked him. Always been a good-for-nothing.

“Where’s my ring? Did he steal it?”

“What? What ring?” Judy’s face scrunches up like she doesn’t understand. I know she’s lying, covering for him.

“Don’t make me call the cops. I know you and Christopher stole it. Give it back before your daddy finds out, and I won’t tell anyone what happened.”

When she tries to touch me, I slap her hand away to show her I mean it. She starts pretending to cry, and that damn thief Christopher starts telling me he’s a doctor! Him, a doctor? I wasn’t born yesterday. I stand up and try to storm out, but my legs feel funny. Can’t get them to work right.

Judy’s really losing it now. Where are we anyway? This cold tiny room…I don’t remember coming in here. Why did they take me here? Anger and confusion bubble in my stomach bristle through my spine.

“Shut up, you dumb whore! I want to go home! Get me out of here! Help!” As I scream, they’re both touching me, shushing me, and trying to keep me from leaving. I can’t take it. I just want to go home!

I’m at the dinner table. The kitchen smells like sautéed onions and garlic. There’s Momma, putting spaghetti in the water. My favorite!

“How much longer till dinner?”

“Uh, like twenty minutes or so.” Momma turns to me and smiles. “You seem like you’re feeling better.”

She has the prettiest smile and long black hair down her back, all the way to her waist. I want to grow mine out that long someday. My fingers reach to smooth my bob, but there’s nothing there. Only air. Higher, higher, finally something, but it feels weird. Curly and short, like cotton balls. And so fine. Panic shoots through me as I feel my scalp past the wisps of hair.

“Momma, what happened to my hair?” The tears are flowing, and I can’t stop them. I don’t remember getting a haircut. Did that mean boy at school do this to me? Now I’ll never be pretty.

Momma turns her head toward me, her eyes wide and rimmed with tears too. Oh no, it must be so bad if even Momma’s gonna cry. I must look like a monster. She rushes to my side, hugging me tight against her chest. I bury my face in her dress, accidentally soaking it through, but she doesn’t mind. Momma always knows just how to make things right. I breathe her in. She smells like lavender.

“It’s okay. No, don’t touch it. Don’t worry. It’ll all be okay.”

A sharp hiss at the stove, and I jolt. The water’s boiled over. We look at each other, both our faces slick with tears, and laugh.

“Judy, is there a man in the bathroom?”

“What?”

“I see a man standing in the doorway to the bathroom.”

“A shadow man again?”

“Is he there?”

“I know you see something, Mom, but there’s no one there.”

“Okay.”

The shadow man stares at me, watches me all the way to the end of the hall, and even after. He watches me through the walls.

There’s a strange woman sitting at the end of my bed, staring at me. At first, I thought her face seemed familiar, but the longer I’ve looked, the more monstrous it’s become.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The whisper snaps out from my dry, trembling lips.

The woman just continues to stare from her bizarre frame. Her face is blank. White and round like the moon. From all around her, darkness begins to creep in on malicious, padded paws until her face is the only illumination. The sole sound in the room is my own breath, a slow wheeze in before shuddering out.

“Please. Please just leave me alone.” I didn’t realize I was crying until just now. “I’m scared.”

The woman is crying too. I can see the tears staining her cheeks. Then, a gnarled smile winds its way across the woman’s lips. I feel a strange sensation on my lips. I hate her. Pulling the covers up over my head, I hide and weep into my hands. I need help. Why doesn’t Momma come and save me?

Holding my breath, I work up the courage to slip to the floor and attempt to sneak out of the room. Hands and knees on the carpet, feeling like a useless, old animal, I look up. The woman is gone. The darkness devours me. I lose myself again.

 “Get out of my house! I don’t know you! Where’s Judy?”

The man just smiles, a stupid little grin, and sets the bowl on the table.

“Don’t you remember me, Grandma? It’s Aaron.”

“Where’s Judy? I need my daughter. I don’t know who you are.”

The man’s face droops, and guilt creeps into my chest. Maybe I do know him. Does he look familiar? Aaron? I look at his face again. Those blue eyes. Frost blue, just like my father. Spitting image. Oh yes, I remember.

“Aaron, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just—didn’t recognize you for a minute. Now, where’s Judy? She’s supposed to take care of me.”

“She’s at the hospital, remember? The doctors say she’ll be back home by Wednesday.”

“What happened to her?”

“Grandma, it was just her appendix. She’s fine. The surgery went well. She’s just recovering.” He nudges the bowl toward me. “Want some soup?”

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Oh, okay.” He runs his hand through his hair and looks toward the door. “Well, I’ll be back in the morning to check on you again. I’ll leave the soup here in case you want it. Do you need anything else?”

My mouth is parched. I can barely speak--I’m so thirsty.

“I need my glass. The glass. Where is it?”

“Your glasses? They’re right over—”

“No, my glass!”

“Grandma, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

Agitated, I stand up and force these old legs to shuffle me to the kitchen. I hear Aaron following after. How could he not understand?

“A glass of water? Is that what you meant?”

Water. Yes, that was the word. Shame falls over me like a veil. I can’t look at him. What had I said? Something silly again?

“Here, let me help you.”

The water squeezes painfully down my dry throat. I ignore the hint of metallic taste, even though it’s gotten stronger each time I drink. How long ago had that been? Hours? Days? Suddenly, I feel as desiccated as an old, forgotten husk. Perhaps that’s all I am anymore.

Outside, the moon is rising. I hate the night. Everything is worse then.

I startle awake. Moonlight streams through the window and sprawls across my bed. The woman is coming. I can feel it. I need to leave. Get out of this room, this house. She can’t find me again. The ominous flutter building in my stomach tells me as much.

Something else, a faint memory I can’t quite bring to the surface. Judy was taking me somewhere. I’m late for the trip. I should’ve packed. Oh well. Time to go.

My bare feet slip out from the sheets to the carpet. I move as quietly as I can, but my joints still crack and pop as I cross the room. Peeking around the door, shadows climb the walls. I need Momma…or is it Judy I need? Everything feels uncomfortably fuzzy in my brain, like a sprouting fungus.

No, no. Judy said we were taking a trip. Get to the car and wait for her. She’ll be out shortly.

The shadow man is in the bathroom again, but he doesn’t see me as I duck down and force these old joints to creep on hands and knees down the hallway. Now there’s only the woman. She’s watching me. Always knows where I am. My breath quickens as panic rises up my esophagus. I could vomit, but I hold it back. One false move, and that’s the end. I know because I know because I know because I know…

A flash of light down the hallway. Searching, flashing searchlight, flashlight. A flashlight! With a whimper, I fling myself into the coat closet, nearly somersaulting from the force in my crouched position. Pull the door shut. Safe and sound. Just keep telling yourself that. Safe and sound. I’m trembling, aching all over from the exertion. It’s too much. But that’s her out there. I have to get past her. Judy is waiting for me outside.

The crack under the door goes dark. Is she trying to trick me? Waiting right there? I have to risk it. I stand, press my hand against the door and watch it open to reveal an empty hallway. My relief only lasts an instant before the alarm sounds. The whole house shakes as the sound erupts from the ground beneath it. Low and menacing like a foghorn. It’s too much! Too much! Too much!

I cover my ears and sprint through the living room, the foyer, and out the front door. My bones grind against each other, threaten to shatter as they’re forced to perform like they haven’t in years. I can nearly feel them splinter inside, like a thousand needles piercing through me. But I have to get out no matter the cost. Judy’s waiting for me.

Except, when I get outside, she’s not there. The car is still parked in the driveway, but there’s no Judy inside. I turn back to the house, rubbing my bare arms, trying to warm them. Could she still be in there? No. I’m sure of it. Only the woman’s in there now. Watching. Lurking. Waiting.

“Judy! Where are you, Judy?” I cup my hands around my mouth and shout as I search around the car, even lowering to my knees to peer beneath, in case she’s hiding from the woman under there. I call and call for her, but my voice echoes out into the darkness, into the fields across the street.

The neighbor’s front porch lights up, and she steps outside in her nightgown and robe. Ruby? Rosie? I don’t remember her name, so I hide from her. She might tell the woman where I am if she sees me. Spies are everywhere.

“Barbara? Is that you out there?”

She waits for a few moments on the porch, pulling her robe closed at the collar, then heads back inside. The light extinguishes. The dark and cold both nip at my skin, my mind, but I shake my head and get back to searching for Judy. [The shadow man took her]

I circle the house twice, searching for clues or signs of where she could be, making sure to avoid the windows in case the woman is waiting. [She sees me through the walls] Watching. [She will find me] Where is Judy? [The moon will show me the way]

Yes, the moon! Why didn’t I think of that earlier? Follow the path of the moon across the night sky and it’ll lead me to my Judy. This revelation seems to warm me from inside, temporarily fighting off the numbness burrowing into my flesh.

Suddenly, headlights on the road, then cast on the neighbor’s porch, gravel crunching under the weight of a car. My eyes narrow. They must be here to capture me, bring me to the woman. They’re all working against me now. Except Judy. I must hide. [The woman’s hidden in the walls] A shiver runs down my spine as I pull open the passenger side door and scramble inside.

[She watches and waits]

A knock at a door. A garbled mess of sounds. Another knock, closer.

Flashlights skim the yard in circles, like a lighthouse. I contort myself, huddling down between the seat and the dashboard, nesting among Judy’s discarded sweaters, old receipts, and greasy hamburger wrappers. [Shrink down, small as a bird]

A man in a uniform appears like a ghost at the window. The sky turns to static behind him. I recognize him, I think. Or maybe not. Police officer, that’s it. Do I know him? No. No, I was just confused. [Danger] I stay hidden. He doesn’t look too long. Doesn’t see my face. He turns and leaves. [Safe and sound]

Slowly I pull my body up to the seat to wait for Judy. I hurt all over, but I’m safe now. She’ll be here soon.

I hope so, at least. It’s so cold.

I look out the window. Since I’ve been hiding, the moon has continued its journey across the sky. It seems brighter than before [Glowing white] Its craters and blemishes obscured by its immaculate light. Three quarters through its nightly route; that means it’s almost time. I only need to wait a little longer. Then Judy will come, and we can leave. [Follow the moon]

It’s so very cold and growing colder with each fraction of an inch the moon moves over me, arching across the sky.

[Judy will come soon]

So cold, but at least things make sense for now.

[Momma will come soon]

I wish I could remember why I was out here, but I need to wait. That’s all I know. Soon someone will come find me and take me somewhere warm. Take me home.

[Follow the moon]

AUTHOR BIO:

Emma E. Murray writes horror and dark speculative fiction. Her stories can be found in anthologies such as “What One Wouldn’t Do” and “The Deep,” as well as magazines like Literary Heist and Sledgehammer. You can find out more at her website EmmaEMurray.com or by following her on Twitter @EMurrayAuthor