When There is Blood on the Moon
A short story by Eduard Joseph
Published by Eduard Joseph
Copyright 2013 Eduard Joseph
Front cover design by Eduard Joseph
Website: https://eduardjoseph.webs.com/
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are
not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. Any resemblance to any person or
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
The right of Eduard Joseph to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him under the South African Copyright Act of 1978 (as amended).
OTHER WORKS BY EDUARD JOSEPH:
When there is blood on the moon (A short story)
.
The man who refused to grow old (A short story)
Morgue of the living (A short story)
Trick or treat (A short story)
The Town
Available from June 2013
1.
The moon was a light shade of red, a lunar event that was quite rare. The little girl rode her bike down the street, paddling as fast as she could – as if being chased by the devil himself.
She was nearly ten years old, but still her bike had support wheels. Though she could ride without the support wheels, it made her feel safe having them there just in case. Her bike was pink and had a white basket attached to the handlebar.
She left home just after 7 that evening. It was almost nine o’ clock. She left without telling her mother where she was going. How could she explain to her mother where she was going without sounding insane? It was also easier to ask for forgiveness than permission to leave in the middle of the night at her age.
The suburb she found herself in was unfamiliar to her, but yet she knew exactly where she had to go. It was almost like she had been there before – a sense of déjà vu. The houses that flew past her as she rode was reminiscence of a dream she once had.
She pulled up to the house at end of the cul de sac and got off her bike. She reached for the old and worn corn flakes box in her basket and ran across the lawn. She fell to her knees at the edge of the rose garden and started to dig. She dug into the soil with her bare hands. As she dug, one of her fingers hit a stone and a large piece of her fingernail chipped off. She ignored the pain and kept digging in desperation.
Once the hole was big enough and about three feet deep, she placed the box in the hole. Her hands were dirty and dirt stuck beneath her nails as she covered the hole again. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, leaving behind a dirt smudge. It was done. She could finally relax a bit more.
As she got to her feet the front door opened. A man with a shot gun stepped out into the porch light. He had an ominous appearance as most of his face was engulfed in shadows.
“Who goes there?” The man asked.
The girl shielded her eyes from the light and took a few steps back.
“Get off my property.” The man ordered.
The man cocked the gun, but kept it pointed at the sky.
“Did you hear me?” He grunted.
The girl looked at him for a moment. She had never seen him before, but she knew it was the right house. She turned and ran back to her bike. She mounted her bike as fast as she could and peddling back home.
Edith sat in the kitchen reading the morning paper. Her eyes were heavy and felt itchy. She had a bad night behind her. She suffered from insomnia and night terrors. When she was a child, the night terrors were more frequent than they were now and much more vivid. These days she had a night terror once or twice a month. Her doctor prescribed pills she took each night before she went to bed. She had one a few nights back, a dream about a man with yellow teeth. She could have sworn she had seen him before, but the rest of the dream was a blur.
She was in her early forties, had long brown hair and green eyes. She was a pretty woman, and yet she found herself unmarried. She had not met anyone she wanted to settle down with. She was married to her work as an office manager for Aztec Incorporated. Work left her with little time to socialize or even think about dating. And besides, the dating game as always let her down. She was involved with a guy for a few years, but that was about it.
Her daughter entered the kitchen. Her name was Emily. She was six years old and was the product of a one night stand after her break up with Stan. Edith was not proud of that evening, but she was damn proud of her little girl. She was the light of her life.
Emily sat down at the kitchen table and stared at her mother. Edith lowered the newspaper.
“Morning baby.” Edith said.
“Morning mommy.” Emily said as she rubbed her eyes.
“Would you like some toast?” Edith asked.
Emily nodded. Edith got up and walked over to the counter. She placed two slices of bread in the toaster and turned on the kettle. She glanced back at Emily – she was the splitting image of Edith when she was young.
“Do I have to go today?” Emily moaned.
“Yes you do.” Edith said, “I thought you liked Jason?”
“He’s not really my friend.” Emily said, “I don’t know why he invited me to his birthday party.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Edith asked, “He wants to be your friend.”
“He eats his boogers.” Emily said.
“Most boys do.” Edith laughed.
“And he smells like feet.” Emily said, “Other boys don’t smell like feet.”
”Feet?” Edith asked, “Maybe it’s his shoes.”
”He doesn’t wear shoes.” Emily said.
Edith sat down on the chair next to Emily. She knew her daughter had to start making friends or she would have to endure the same lonely childhood she had.
“If you really don’t like him,” Edith said, “You don’t have to go.”
“Fine I’ll go.” Emily said, “But only for the cake and candy.”
Edith smiled and said, “Are you sure?”
Emily nodded. Edith smiled approvingly. Reverse psychology always worked.
“Did you feed Nemo?” Edith asked.
Emily shook her head.
“This is the second time you forgot.” Edith said, “What if he starves?”
“He didn’t even eat the food I gave him yesterday.” Emily moaned.
“How would you know?” Edith asked, “Did you watch him the entire time?”
“No.” Emily said foolishly.
Edith stood up and motioned for Emily to get up.
“Come on.” Edith said, “Let’s go feed Nemo.”
Emily sighed, but followed her mother back to her room. As soon as Edith entered the room she could see the fish was not moving. Emily joined her in front of the fish bowl by the window. Nemo the goldfish was floating at the surface. Emily did not seem too distraught.
“Can I get a puppy now?” Emily asked.
“Sweetie,” Edith said, “If you can’t even remember to feed a fish, how can you possibly care for a puppy?”
“I promise I will take real good care of it.” Emily said.
“I’m sorry.” Edith said, “I have to say no on this one.”
Emily’s train of thought changed again as another idea popped into her head.
“Can we have a funeral for Nemo now?” Emily asked.
Sometimes Edith wondered if Emily didn’t suffer from ADD. She was all over the show some days, and got bored easily. This wasn’t a trait she got from her mother, so it had to be something she inherited from her father – wherever the hell he was.
Edith reached into the fishbowl and fished Nemo out of the water. She carried th
e dead fish to the kitchen. Emily followed her and watched as her mother placed Nemo in a small paper bag. Edith closed the paper bag and the two of them walked over to the front door.
They stepped outside. Emily carried a hand shovel with her. Edith walked over to the Petunia patch beneath the window and got down on her knees. Emily knelt down next to her and handed the hand shovel to her mother.
Edith started to dig and shovel away the loose dirt. When the hole was about two feet deep, the shovel slammed into something and got stuck.
“What on earth?” Edith asked.
She wiped away the dirt and revealed an old corn flakes box. She put down the shovel and dug out the box with her hands. She lifted the corn flakes box out of the earth and stared at it. It seemed old. The design on the packaging was no longer in use. The box had to be at least thirty years old
“What is it mommy?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know.” Edith said, “Maybe a pet the previous owners buried?”
Edith inspected the box another moment longer and then decided to open it. She unfolded the tabs and peeked inside. There was no animal carcass inside. There was a folded up piece of paper inside. She reached inside and pulled out the paper. She put down the box next to her and unfolded the paper. It was a handwritten letter. The paper was brittle and faded, but the writing was still clear.
August 1977
Dear Edith Williams.
I am writing this letter and hoping it will reach you in time. You will not recall anything I am writing about, but you must trust that I am telling you the truth.
I rode throughout the night to get to this house, and had to make myself forget about tonight to ensure that nothing prevented you from buying this house.
This will sound completely crazy, but you just have to believe me. You will be murdered on August 3rd 2013. I’ve seen this in my dreams. Whatever you do, stay away from the light on that day.
Signed, Edith Williams, age 10.
Edith lowered the letter. Her eyes were wide with disbelief.
“What does it say, mommy?” Emily bugged her.
Edith did not hear a word Emily said. She was transfixed on the letter. What kind of a sick joke was this? Who would write her such a letter and pretend to be her?
2.
Edith sat in the car and stared at the red traffic light. Emily was in the back seat singing along to the radio. Edith was still baffled by the strange letter. Who buried it in her garden? Surely if it were she as a child, she would have remembered it? It had to be a joke.
The light switched to green and the car behind them honked. She glanced in her rearview mirror at the beat up car behind her. It was one of those cars you could be sure had a honk if you’re horny sticker on the back bumper.
Edith put the car in gear and pulled away. She drove down main road and made a left turn into 7th Avenue. It was a serene avenue with big gardens and even bigger houses. Everything seemed so green and lush.
The car came to a halt in front of number 13. It was a big Victorian style house with palm trees along the driveway that reached high up into the sky. Balloons were tied to the trunks of the palm trees. It was the only sign that there was a party.
“Here we are.” Edith said.
Edith faked a smile and tried to hide her concern about the events of the morning. Emily opened her door. She was reluctant to get out of the car and had a constipated look on her face.
“Try to enjoy it.” Edith said.
“I’ll try.” Emily said.
Emily got out of the car and shut the door. She walked around the car and along the path that led up to the house. Edith sat watching as Emily entered the house. She hoped that Emily’s ADD wouldn’t get the better of her and that she might enjoy the party.
August 2nd
Doctor Weber sat on his easy chair, his glasses positioned at the tip of his nose. He stared down at the fragile letter and then looked up at Edith. He was in his early sixties and had been practicing for over twenty years. He was an expert in the field of psychology. Before he entered the private sector he was a lecturer at the University. He was even nominated for the prestigious Juman award for his work. He shifted his glasses and then glanced back down at the letter.
Edith sat on the large sofa opposite Doctor Weber with the window behind her.
“You say you found this where?” Doctor Weber asked intrigued.
“In the garden.” Edith said, “In the Petunia patch. I was burying my daughter’s gold fish.”
Doctor Weber stared at the letter and tugged at the skin beneath his chin as he concentrated. The elasticity of his skin had disappeared more than a decade earlier and when he let go of the skin, it lingered a while before easing back in place.
“What do you think?” Edith asked.
“Did you report this to the police?” Doctor Weber asked.
“No.” Edith said, “Should I?”
“I’m not sure.” Doctor Weber said in thought, “Maybe it’s a hoax. Maybe it’s a threat of some kind. The police department is strict on intimidation.”
“The thing that rattled me,” Edith said, “is the fact that whoever wrote the letter signed it as Edith Williams. Don’t you find that odd? Why would anyone pretend to be me?”
“I have to agree.” Doctor Weber said, “It is very peculiar. Does anyone have a grudge against you?”
”Not that I know of.” Edith, “But I doubt that I will be able to sleep tonight knowing that there is some creep out there that planted this in my garden.”
Doctor Weber removed his specs and stared at Edith.
“Speaking of which,” Doctor Weber said, “How is the insomnia?”
“It’s no better, no worse.” Edith said, “I fell asleep at four this morning. I woke up again at six.”
”Any nightmares?” Doctor Weber asked.
“Not that I can recall.” Edith said.
“And work?” Doctor Weber asked.
“As stressful as ever.” Edith said with a chuckle; “I’m meeting with clients from Hong Kong next week for a very important deal. I’ve been working overtime to ensure we close this deal.”
“Maybe you should take some time off.” Doctor Weber suggested, “Maybe after the Hong Kong deal?”
“I’ve got some vacation time.” Edith said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should take Emily and go to the beach for a weekend.”
“Weekend?” Doctor Weber asked concerned.
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“A week?” Edith suggested.
Doctor Weber nodded in approval.
“I think a week should just about do it.” Doctor Weber said.
There was a moment of silence between the two of them and then Edith spoke again.
“And the letter?” Edith asked, “What should I do?”
“Be precautious.” Doctor Weber said, “I’m not saying that there is any truth to this letter – but I am not saying ignore it.”
1976
Mike’s father had constructed a tree house in the old tree which bordered their backyard. The base of the house was built on a wooden board anchored to the fork.
Mike and Edith sat in the tree house. Mike was eleven and Edith was ten. They had been best friends for as long as they could speak. Mike’s mother was friends with hers and so they came to be friends as well. They had the kind of close relationship you so often saw between two kids, so close that everyone thought the two of them would one day end up married.
Edith reached into her back pack and took out two lollipops. She handed one to Mike. He smiled at her.
“Yellow.” Mike said, “My favorite.”
“I know.” Edith said, “That’s why I asked my mom to buy them”
Mike unwrapped his lollipop. He glanced at Edith.
“You’re the only girl I get along with.” Mike said.
“And you’re the only boy I’ll ever get along with.” Edith said.
“What’s wrong with boys?” Mike asked.
br /> “Besides the fact that you all eat boogers?” Edith asked.
“We don’t all eat boogers.” Mike joked, “I collect mine in a glass jar and sell them to other hungry boys.”
Edith giggled and said, “That is so sick.”
“Well thank you.” Mike said and made a little bow.
Mike popped the lollipop into his mouth. He glanced at her. He loved spending time with her. She was the only one that understood him.
“Promise me we’ll always be friends?” Edith asked.
“I promise.” Mike said with the lollipop bulging against his cheek.
“Promise you’ll always be there when I need you?” Edith asked.
“Yeah.” Mike said and twirled the lollipop.
“Promise? Edith insisted.
“I promise.” Mike replied.
“Promise you will ask me to the prom when we are older?” Edith asked.
Mike giggled and said, “I promise.”
3.
Edith and Mike never ended up getting married like everyone thought when they were kids. Sure, they stayed the closest of friends through high school… and then came college. They each went to different colleges. At first they called each other every evening to chat about their day. Then the calls became less and less until the calls finally stopped. Edith moved on with her life and accepted that Mike did the same, but there were times when she thought back to the friendship they shared all those years ago.
Edith sat behind her desk at Aztec Incorporated. Hers was the biggest office on in the west wing and had a magnificent view overlooking the lake down below. She lay back in her chair and played with a pencil while staring at the framed photo of Emily. The framed photo stood next to her computer and was taken on the beach.
Maybe Doctor Weber’s suggestion was long overdue. As she sat staring at the photo, the memories of that day on the beach came flooding back. Emily had just turned 3. They could return there for a weekend getaway. It wasn’t like the company would seize to exist without her for a couple of days.
There was a knock at the door, snatching Edith back from her trance state about the weekend away. She looked up as the secretary peeked in through the door.
“Mrs. Williams,” The secretary said, “Mr. Appelgryn wants to know if you were able to get the statistics from finance yet?”
“I’ve sent Brent an email requesting it,” Edith said, “But he has yet to respond.”
The secretary nodded and closed the door. Edith stared down at the picture again.