Chapter 2: Blood on the Doorstep

He muttered something under his breath, words I couldn’t catch. The hairs on my arms stood up.

“This is bad. It’s already July, and this year’s blood moon only comes once every sixty years. Your sister wore red and killed herself in a well, full of resentment. I’m afraid she’ll come back as a vengeful spirit.”

His words sent a chill through us. In our town, the blood moon wasn’t just a superstition—it was an omen. The kind old folks whispered about but never explained.

Dad and Stepmom were instantly terrified.

Stepmom clutched Eli, knuckles white. Dad’s bravado vanished, replaced by wide-eyed fear.

Dad asked, “Uncle Joe, then… what should we do?”

His voice was smaller than I’d ever heard it, like he was a kid again.

Uncle Joe sighed, “Unfortunately, I’ve got urgent business out of town…”

He looked away, shuffling his feet. It was the first time I’d ever seen him hesitate.

Dad grew frantic. “Uncle Joe, you can’t just leave! You gotta help me!”

He grabbed Joe’s arm, desperation in his voice. It was the first time I’d seen Dad beg.

Uncle Joe thought for a moment, counting on his fingers, and said, “There’s still time! Hank, move the body to the county morgue right away. For the next seven days, have someone watch over her and light a candle for her every day, no exceptions. That’ll help settle her spirit and keep the body from the blood moon. That way, she won’t become a vengeful spirit.”

He spoke slow, like he was reciting an old prayer—half church, half folk magic.

The mention of lighting candles for seven days made Dad’s face fall.

He scowled, muttering about wasted money. I could almost see the dollar signs spinning in his head.

“Just have someone watch the body—why waste money on candles? Uncle Joe, you trying to squeeze me for cash?”

Dad’s voice rose, but there was no conviction behind it. He looked more scared than angry.

Uncle Joe glared at him. “Idiot! If you don’t believe me, do what you want! But you’ll deal with the consequences!”

Joe’s eyes flashed, and for a second, Dad looked ready to bolt.

He turned to leave.

The silence that followed was thick as river mud.

Dad hurriedly apologized. “Uncle Joe, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do as you say.”

He nearly tripped over his own words, voice trembling. The whole neighborhood probably heard him.

Everyone in Maple Heights knew how powerful Uncle Joe was. After he helped Roy Grady with some land issues and built a family plot, Roy got rich and became mayor. No matter how stingy Dad was, he wouldn’t dare cross Uncle Joe.

The story of how Uncle Joe “fixed” the Grady land was local legend. Folks said he could talk to spirits, or at least scare off the ones that mattered. Dad knew better than to test him.

After Uncle Joe calmed down, he asked, “Who are you gonna have watch the body?”

He looked at each of us in turn, gaze settling on me. My stomach dropped.

As soon as he asked, I tried to slip away, heart pounding, but Dad caught me.

His grip was iron, fingers digging into my arm. I knew better than to fight.

Stepmom chimed in, “Lily goes hiking up the mountain alone, right? She’s brave—let her go to the morgue and keep watch.”

She tried to sound encouraging, but her eyes pleaded with me not to hold it against her.

“Dad, I’m scared, I don’t want to…”

My voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. I looked at Eli, but he just stared at the ground.

Before I could finish, Dad kicked me hard and yelled, “If you don’t go, I’ll lock you in the shed and you can live with the raccoons!”

The threat wasn’t empty—I’d spent a night in that shed before. I knew the smell, the cold, the loneliness. I shut up fast.

I had no choice. I was the lowest in the family pecking order.

I felt the truth of it like a stone in my gut. Nobody was going to save me.

Uncle Joe tried to comfort me. “Don’t worry, kid. Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine. I’ll give you some protective crosses—they’ll keep you safe if things get ugly.”

He pressed a handful of rough, homemade wooden crosses into my palm. I clung to them like a lifeline.

He pulled me aside and carefully explained everything I needed to do.

His voice was low, steady, almost gentle. "Keep the candle burning. Don’t let any moonlight touch her. And whatever you do, don’t fall asleep."

---

Night fell, silent and eerie.

The sky was bruised with clouds, swallowing the stars. Even the cicadas were quiet.

After getting everything ready, I dragged Aunt’s body alone to the county morgue behind the woods.

The wheels of the old cart squeaked, every bump sending chills up my spine. The path was muddy, and my shoes stuck with every step.

The old mortuary door hung open, the dim light inside flickered, and the stench of death hit me in the face. Several dusty caskets were laid out before me.

The air inside was thick, heavy with the smell of rot and old wood. Shadows clung to the corners, and I felt like I was being watched.

After settling Aunt in place, I lit a candle to honor her spirit.

The flame sputtered, throwing long shadows on the walls. I whispered a prayer, just in case she could hear me.

Then I stepped outside and looked up at the sky. It was thick with dark clouds—pitch black.

The woods felt closer than usual, the trees leaning in, branches creaking in the wind. I shivered and pulled my jacket tighter.

Uncle Joe said the blood moon would rise at 8 p.m., but it was already 7:58 and there was no moonlight at all.

I checked my watch, heart pounding. The seconds crawled by.

Suddenly, a strong wind blew, sweeping the clouds away, and the moon appeared.

It was sudden, like someone had flipped a switch. The wind howled, rattling the windows.

Sure enough, the moonlight was tinged with blood, growing redder by the second. The wind howled, as if ghosts were whispering in my ears. My hair stood on end.

The world turned crimson, and every sound seemed sharper, more dangerous. I hugged myself, teeth chattering.

Uncle Joe said that if a corpse was exposed to the blood moon, the dark energy would surge and the body could transform.

His warnings echoed in my mind, louder with every heartbeat.

Just then, I glanced back—and froze.

The room was colder now. My breath came out in clouds. She was standing up. Eyes closed. I swear, my heart stopped.

What was happening? Why did she suddenly stand up?

Her arms hung limp, her head tilted at an unnatural angle. I felt paralyzed, my feet rooted to the floor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small window at the back of the building was open, letting in a sliver of moonlight.

The moonbeam cut across the floor, touching her dress. My skin prickled with goosebumps.

No wonder!

I bit my lip, forcing myself to move. My hands shook as I hurried to shut the window.

As soon as I did, Aunt’s corpse lay back down.

She collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. I let out a shaky breath.

Uncle Joe had been right after all.

I whispered a thank you to him, clutching the crosses tighter.

I quickly followed the rest of his instructions.

I checked every corner, sealed every crack, and kept the candle burning bright. The night dragged on, each minute feeling like an hour.

After a long, tense night, I was exhausted, but nothing went wrong.

When the first birds started singing, relief washed over me. I slumped against the wall, fighting to keep my eyes open.

Uncle Joe said I only needed to watch the corpse at night. So, when the sun rose, I left the morgue and headed home.

The walk back was quiet, the morning mist curling over the fields. I felt like a ghost myself.

But as soon as I arrived, I saw a crowd blocking our door.

Neighbors stood in clusters, whispering behind their hands. The sheriff’s car was parked crooked in the driveway.

It was Mayor Grady. I don’t know how he found out about Aunt’s death, but he was probably here to demand answers.

His suit was wrinkled, his face red with anger. He pushed through the crowd, looking like he owned the whole damn street.

“Hank, since your sister’s dead, give me back the $30,000 engagement money and we’ll call it even!” Grady demanded.

His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. The neighbors leaned in, hungry for drama.

Dad snapped, “Even? You ruined my sister and you still have the nerve to ask me for money? Please!”

He puffed out his chest, but his hands were shaking. I could tell he was scared.

Grady shot back, “When did I ruin your sister? She killed herself—what’s that got to do with me?”

He sneered, but his eyes darted away. The whole town knew there was more to the story.

Dad sneered, “Roy, you want to play games? Fine! Remember those pictures of my sister that were floating around town? You think I don’t know that was your doing? You came to propose several times and I refused, so you tricked my sister into the apple orchard, assaulted her, and took those photos to spread around. That way, no one else would marry her. Then you came back to propose again, forcing me to give her to you. Am I wrong?”

The words hung heavy in the air. A couple of neighbors gasped. Grady’s face went pale as milk.

Grady was stunned.

He stammered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“You… you’re making things up! Do you have any proof?” he sputtered.

His voice cracked, and he looked around for support, but nobody stepped in.

Dad grinned. “Proof? My sister told me herself. If you don’t believe me, watch this.”

He pulled out his phone, holding it up for everyone to see. The crowd leaned in, hungry for scandal.

Just as he said, Aunt’s voice was clear—she said that when she woke up that day, her clothes were a mess and she saw Roy Grady’s back.

The recording was scratchy, but there was no mistaking her voice. I watched Grady’s hands clench into fists.

From the look of it, Dad had secretly recorded her when she confessed.

He always had an angle, always thinking two steps ahead. Even now, he was using her pain to get what he wanted.

He clearly meant to use it for blackmail.

It made my stomach turn, but I wasn’t surprised.

Dad said, “So, Roy, there’s your evidence. Besides, if you didn’t do it, would you—the mayor—be so eager to marry her after all that?”

He raised his eyebrows, daring Grady to deny it. The neighbors murmured, the scandal growing by the second.

To him, his disgraced sister was just a burden.

He’d sell out anyone if it meant a payday. That’s just who he was.

Grady was speechless, his face pale.

He looked like he might faint. I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

Seeing he had the upper hand, Dad pressed on.

He stepped closer, voice dropping to a threatening whisper. “Roy, now my sister’s dead. Her life’s worth more than thirty grand. If you know what’s good for you, bring me another fifty, or I’ll call the cops. You’ve done plenty of shady things over the years—if it all comes out, don’t blame me.”

The crowd shifted, some folks looking away, others waiting to see if Grady would crack.

“Damn it, Hank—!”

Grady’s voice shook, but he didn’t fight back. He just turned and stormed off, his pride in tatters.

Grady was furious, but he had no choice. He left, humiliated.

The sheriff followed, shaking his head. The neighbors began to disperse, whispering about what they’d just seen.

Dad, pleased with himself for chasing off the mayor and lining up another payout, was overjoyed.

He strutted around like a rooster, already counting the money in his head.

I took the chance to slip back inside.

My hands were shaking. I wanted to disappear, to forget the whole ugly scene.

---

For the next three nights, I kept watch over the corpse at the morgue. With Uncle Joe’s methods, everything went smoothly.

I barely slept, the candle burning down to a nub each night. The crosses Uncle Joe gave me felt heavier with every passing hour.

But on the fourth night, something strange happened.