Under a Full Moon
Home Invasion
The sky was dark. Black. Not a cloud to be seen. The home was isolated in the middle of nowhere: no streetlights, road signs, or any sign of life.
Except my house.
I looked at the mountains. I admired the full moon. I took one last sip, and I went to sleep.
CRACK!
SMASH!
I awoke. Wind chimes. Dogs barking.
I didn’t have any dogs.
I jumped out of bed and grabbed my go kit by the door. There were another two in the house.
One in the car, but not the car in the driveway. It was compromised. It was in the car hidden in the brush.
I pulled up the floor to my trap door. I went out of the hidden basement and pushed through the wall.
A radio?
I’m closing in. We know he’s here.
Was that his voice?
Checking the bedrooms now.
Huh?
I know this is the place. Follow the standard.
That was weird. I grabbed the radio and went out the trap door.
In his bedroom. No sign.
I ran into the tunnel. It was my safe exit.
His car is here.
I walked. I didn’t run. Noise was the enemy.
His heat signature was here ten minutes ago.
I knew this day would come.
Again.
I picked up my pace.
That floor. Is anything odd?
I came out in the brush and got to my car. I reached in my go bag and grabbed my keys. I uncovered the Ford and hopped in.
I’ve got him.
I heard cries.
Who?
Time to go then.
Help!
My ears went up. My pulse slowed. My hands clenched.
HELP!!
I took a breath.
Hey. I know you got my radio. I planted them all over the house.
What?
I knew I wouldn’t catch you straight, so I improvised.
Huh?
You know who this is.
Sadly, I did.
Come back to the house, or you know what happens.
I held my breath.
Then my body took over.
I started the car, hit the gas, and raced toward my house as fast as I could.
There were no vehicles or lights. Nobody appeared to be there. Of course not. There never was
I parked quietly. Moved quietly.
I see you. Come on in. It’s over.
I surrendered.
Drop your go bag. Enter the basement through the hidden door.
The bag dropped right there. Still nobody. No sound. Only me.
I walked to my room. I saw no signs of forced entry. I dropped into the basement. Darkness. Alone.
I looked at my radio.
Only there was no radio.
What?
Go ahead.
I stopped.
You’ll see me. Look in the mirror.
I approached the mirror. I saw myself.
But I didn’t recognize the man in the mirror.
I was young. Hopeful. Still taking the world with hope.
Then the boy began to cry. He yelled for help.
Nobody heard him. Nobody believed him. Nobody cared.
I looked back at him as he aged. Gray hairs at 14. He was weathered; unbroken but bent.
I watched his heart rate, his body, his wrinkles.
Still he stood. I stared some more.
I saw everything: what he saw, what he had done, and what he became. It took its toll. I watched him react to pain, heartache, suffering, and worse.
He still stood. I stared, and I waited.
Eventually, he looked back.
“Are you happy with who I am?” he asked.
What do you say to that?
“You did the best you could with what you had.”
He nodded. I nodded back.
“Is this where and how you really want to live?” he asked.
I looked around at my boarded up safe home. Only it wasn’t safe. I lived there. In my darkness.
“It’s fine,” I got out. He looked away.
“I never settled for fine.”
I sighed. Now I was crying. He looked back at me.
“I forgive you,” he said. “Just as you forgive me.”
We looked at each other. Both in tears.
“What now?” I asked. He was still standing.
“If you get stuck, come on back anytime. You’ve got this.”
I looked in the mirror again. It was just my reflection.
I paced around the room and took a seat. I went on my laptop and looked up places to live in the city nearby.
I looked at my life and job.
I needed to make changes, but this was a start.
Under a full moon, I chose to change.
Please leave a comment. If you want it to reach more people, then please restack.
This piece is in response three prompts: Eliseo F.G. McCarthy’s prompt below,
Sam’s Spaghetti’s prompt below,
and Wendy Cockcroft’s prompt.
March Madness, Day 3: A Loose Cannon
We all know someone who’s their own worst enemy. Who’s too impulsive for their own good. Write a story about a person who runs head-first into trouble whenever they can. Why do they do it? What happens when they do? Will they learn from their mistakes or not? What impact does it have on their relationship with friends and neighbors?
I’m HVR. I started writing in July.
It was on my phone with my thumbs.
I was published in September.
This note tells how I came to write.
Buy my book. Don’t be lame.
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Facing ourselves is the most difficult. Very well written. Thank you!
Wow, great job with subverting our expectations! I loved it, very powerful!