Chapter 3: The Blood Moon's Warning

The air felt different—colder, thicker. I woke with a start, heart racing.

Aunt’s corpse disappeared.

The slab was empty, the candle snuffed out. My breath caught in my throat.

I rushed home to report.

The gravel crunched under my feet as I ran, lungs burning. I didn’t stop until I reached the porch.

As soon as I got there, I heard the sound of whipping from inside.

The sharp crack of leather on skin echoed through the walls. I flinched, memories of old bruises flashing in my mind.

“Tell me! Did you steal my phone?”

Dad’s voice was a snarl, filled with rage. The house smelled of sweat and fear.

Dad was whipping Stepmom with a leather belt. Her arms were badly cut and bleeding.

She cowered on the floor, tears streaking her face. Eli hid behind the couch, hands over his ears.

“Please, Hank, I really didn’t take your phone, I swear!”

Her voice was raw, pleading. The room felt suffocating.

Stepmom begged for mercy. My brother Eli was curled up in the corner, too scared to come near.

He rocked back and forth, whispering to himself. I wanted to run to him, but fear held me back.

“You’re the only one who knows where I keep my phone. If it wasn’t you, who else? A ghost?”

Dad’s eyes were wild, sweat dripping down his face. He raised the belt again.

He whipped her again. She screamed and curled up, not daring to move.

The sound made my skin crawl. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to intervene.

I knew my father’s temper. If he didn’t get answers, Stepmom would suffer all night.

He’d never stop until he got what he wanted, even if it meant breaking someone.

So I ran in.

I burst through the door, voice trembling. “Dad, something’s wrong! Aunt’s corpse is gone!”

Dad froze, eyes wide.

The belt hung limp in his hand. He stared at me, stunned.

Stepmom quickly added, “Hank, besides me, Lily also knows where you keep your phone. Why don’t you ask her?”

She shot me a desperate look, hoping to deflect his anger.

She glanced at me.

Her eyes pleaded for help, but I couldn’t think fast enough.

Before I could react, Dad swung the whip at me!

The belt whistled through the air. I ducked, heart pounding.

Crack!

The tip grazed my shoulder, stinging hot. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

I dodged just in time.

I scrambled behind the table, breathing hard.

“You brat! Tell me! Did you steal my phone?” Dad roared.

His face was red, veins bulging in his neck. He looked ready to kill.

I shook my head. “Of course not. Dad, remember? I’ve been at the morgue every night. During the day, I just come home to sleep. You barely saw me, but…”

My voice wavered, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.

Dad’s expression darkened. “But what? Speak! If you lie, I’ll beat you to death, you useless thing!”

He took a step closer, belt raised. I backed up, hands shaking.

I said, “But this afternoon, I saw some people sneaking around our house.”

I remembered shadows moving outside, voices I didn’t recognize. My heart hammered in my chest.

Stepmom chimed in, “Hank, I know! It must have been Grady’s men—they snuck in and stole your phone while we weren’t looking! Lily just said your sister’s corpse is missing. Isn’t that obviously to destroy evidence?”

She spoke fast, desperate to shift the blame. Dad’s eyes darted between us.

Dad’s eyes widened, his hands shaking with anger.

He gripped the belt tighter, jaw clenched.

Stepmom continued, “Isn’t Uncle Joe always doing land blessings and burials for the mayor? I bet he told Grady about your sister’s death. The mayor came over today, pretending to talk about the engagement money, but really he wanted to see if you had any dirt on him, and then…”

Her words tumbled out, her voice rising with panic. The room felt smaller with every second.

At this, Dad lost it. He rushed to his room, grabbed a crowbar, and shouted, “That Roy Grady dares to scheme with that damn preacher against me! Fine! Tonight, I’ll show him Hank Marshall isn’t to be messed with!”

He slammed the door behind him, boots pounding down the hallway. I exchanged a look with Stepmom—fear and something else, maybe hope.

He stormed out. Even though Grady had plenty of men, my dad was notoriously fierce, so Stepmom and I hurried after him.

We grabbed our coats and ran into the night, the air thick with the promise of violence.

But when we reached Grady’s house, we saw blood everywhere and bodies strewn about.

The front porch was slick, the windows shattered. I felt bile rise in my throat.

Even more horrifying, Grady’s head was separated from his body and placed on the dining table, dripping blood.

The sight was worse than any nightmare. The smell of copper hung heavy in the air.

“What… what happened here?”

Dad’s voice was barely a whisper, his bravado gone. He looked ready to collapse.

“Hank, look!” Stepmom pointed at a broken charm bracelet on the table.

It was unmistakable—the same silver bracelet Aunt always wore. My skin crawled.

“That looks like Aunt’s bracelet!” I said.

My voice was shaky, but there was no denying it.

“No… could it really be this evil?”

Dad’s face turned pale.

He stumbled back, clutching the doorframe. For the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes.

“But besides Aunt, who else could wipe out Grady’s whole family overnight…” I murmured.

I thought of the stories I’d heard as a child—about monsters in the woods and vengeful spirits. None of them seemed as real as this.

Stepmom said, “Hank, what do we do? Your sister even killed Grady—are we next? After all, she died because of…”

Her voice broke, and she looked at Dad, waiting for him to explode.

Dad snapped, “Shut up! Say another word and I’ll beat you!”

But even as he said it, he was frowning deeply.

His hands shook. He wiped sweat from his brow, looking older than I’d ever seen him.

I said, “Didn’t Uncle Joe give us those crosses? Let’s go home and put them up—then Aunt won’t find us. I was safe at the morgue the past few nights because of them.”

I tried to sound brave, but my voice was thin. I clung to the hope that the crosses might work.

Dad said, “Right! Let’s hurry back and hang those crosses!”

He didn’t wait for us, running down the street like a man chased by the devil himself.

He rushed home.

Stepmom and I followed, breathless and afraid.

---

Back home, Dad plastered all the crosses Uncle Joe had given him over his door.

He hammered them in with shaking hands, muttering prayers under his breath. The house smelled of burning wax and fear.

Sure enough, we were safe that night.

I barely slept, listening for every creak and groan. But the night passed without incident.

But the next morning, news spread that, besides Grady’s family, eighteen men in Maple Heights had died mysteriously in their homes overnight.

The whole town buzzed with panic. Folks locked their doors, drew their curtains, and whispered about curses and revenge.