Rebecca pulled the heavy bolt across the front door. Picking up a lantern, she made her way to the kitchen. On the table, she pushed the pile of cutlery to one side and picked up the pistol. It was heavy in her hand. She could barely lift it. Was it the weight or fear that made her hand shake as she practiced aiming it? Maybe it was a mixture of both. She picked up a bullet and put it in her pocket. It was a conscious decision of hers not to load the gun at that moment, as if not doing so would delay the inevitable.
She breathed in long and deep to steady her nerves and made her way upstairs. Retrieving the round of ammunition from her dress she rolled it between her fingers. It glistened in the light of the lantern, and she paused, marveling at its beauty. It was her father who had shown her at such an early age how to melt and shape metal into a bullet. The silver spoon she had chosen made just the right amount of material for one perfect round.
Loading the weapon, she walked quietly down the corridor. It was a Peacemaker. The type that she had seen in the dime novels about the Wild West. The local sheriff would usually be armed with one. She moved past her parents’ room and stopped. It was 29 days since her father had been killed by the beast. 29 days since the last full moon. 29 days since he had tried, and failed, to protect his family from the hideous creature that came for flesh and blood. On that night it had received both in ample portions.
She made her way to her little brother’s room where he was sleeping soundly. She bent down and kissed him gently on the cheek, feeling his warm, innocent breath on her face. He was not yet even four years of age and was the apple of her eye.
Silver was the only thing that could stop the creature, or at least that is what she had heard. After her father had fallen prey to it, she knew it was now down to her to protect what was left of her family. Her mother had died of fever three summers ago.
She left James’s room and silently closed the door behind her. There was a leather high-backed chair in the corridor which she had moved from her room so she could be as close to him as possible. She settled herself in it to wait.
The clock above the mirror on the opposite wall ticked loudly. It was ten to midnight. She hoped with all her heart that the monster would not appear that night but with the moon shining full it was a fool’s hope.
Rebecca awoke with a start, not intending to have slept at all. A growl filled the corridor, low and menacing in its pitch. She stood and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes shone yellow, her ears started stretching into hairy points, and her teeth grew into razor-sharp fangs. She raised the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger.
∼ Ian Sputnik
© Copyright Ian Sputnik. All Rights Reserved.
7 thoughts on “Full Moon”
Oh my… I wasn’t expecting that…
Wow, just wow! That packed a punch.
Excellent! “Full Moon” joins Peter Beagle’s “Lila the Werewolf” as top fave werewolf stories!!
Reblogged this on Lee Andrew Forman.
Great story, Ian!
Wonderfully tense and a perfect twist ending.