Harvest Moon
The Reapers Harrow
I custom wrote this horror post for the DREADtober part 1 post, by DREAD Reviews.
Please read and support all the horrifying talent here-
āThat moon, though!ā I thought as I turned my gaze from the sky to stare pensively into the lovely little fire my son Seth had started in the burn pit. Looking around at the outdoor candles heād lit, it seemed heād taken my request to build a fire in celebration of the Harvest moon to heart and to a whole new level. The fire was red hot and eager for more, reaching greedily beyond the confines of its iron circle for more fuel.
I was restless, wandering back and forth between the side yard where the view of the sky was pristine for my iPhone camera and the back yard where the fire roared. There were occasional clouds drifting across this the long-awaited harvest moon, as if trying to protect the cameraās eyes from the sting of its cold, blue beauty. And it was cold ā the moonās crystal clear, icy beauty. Iād seen pictures with the notices about viewing the moon that showed a pink or red moon. There was no such warmth in the panorama before me. Ironically, the night air was warm, almost a room temperature nothing burger with high humidity. The air even smelled oddly of a coastal storm brewing on a southern shore, a vapid juxtaposition to the cutting beauty my snaps were capturing. Can we really capture what our bare eyes see on a camera? I think not. Iām constantly disappointed by the output of the tools between my optics and the world and tonight was no different.
The cameraās AI was doing its own thinking, pissing me off. But when it occasionally forgot to takeover, very dark and very moody āall naturalā shots severely derailed the almost sunny lovefest shown by the AIās version of the truth. I was drawn to the darker shots, almost magnetized. I stared, helpless to resist the allure of their reality. In the distance, I heard a sound from beyond the other side of the park next to our house. It sounded like a primateās bark, almost a scream. It was not a dog, my sonās suggested explanation. It was not a bird, at least nothing Iād ever heard coming from the woods over there, where we hike frequently. By now I was familiar with every sound in my immediate environment and this was new. Definitely, brand new.
It stopped for a bit then began anew, close now, as if coming from the other end of our u-shaped street instead of almost a mile away in the woods. Not gonna lie, that switch was creepy AF, turning my thoughts to wondering if full moons disturb our sleep what might they do to animal behaviors? Like a sissy, I bolted back over next to the fire. Seth had started fussing around so I thought he was done and asked if he was going in. No way was I staying out here alone with whatever was making that odd sound. He said no. So, I planned to stay out another fifteen minutes or so.
I got the wild idea to ground myself while enjoying this special moon in the middle of the fall harvesting season. āWhy not?ā, I thought. Iād grounded in the same spot on many mornings throughout spring and summer. I removed my shoes standing in the wet grass next to the patio where the fire was. Thatās when everything went to hell.
As I stood there connected to the earth under the harvest moon, the smell of wood fire in my head and the humming insects in my ears, the night sky darkened and I thought the clouds must be getting thicker but oddly enough it was still clear in the back yard. Shrugging, I glanced at the pics on my phone again, texting them to my family with apologies that I didnāt have the right equipment to truly capture the moonās details. One photo stood out from the rest. It was both disturbing and magnetic at the same time. As I stared at it again, I felt an almost clicking sensation and went into one of those pausing dazes we sometimes experience where we stop what weāre doing briefly transfixed by invisible forces that eventually release their hold and our functioning resumes as before. Only, this time the force didnāt let go. I felt the air grow heavier, thicker, stuffed with the kind of humidity that makes it harder to breath. I could NOT turn my head, but was able to whisper to Seth to go in the house to check on his cat Honeysuckle. I didnāt tell him, but I needed him to get away from the moonlight because something was not right and it was scaring me.
As I stood there my feet began to heat up in the cool, wet grass. The warmth was out of place and grew hotter as it slowly traveled like melting wax up my legs and torso stopping at my collar bones. The photoās panorama of the piercingly bright, cold moon against the black background was interrupted by the shadow-blackened limbs of the tree in the foreground. The photo, I now realized was physically holding my head and body hostage, seemed to mock my overwhelming relief that the heat had stopped below my neck allowing me to continue breathing albeit with ever shortening gasps for air.
As a small child my worst nightmare, a frequent nighttime visitor, was that Iād die drowning, my lungs slowing replacing air with water until I literally smothered.
That icy cold, liar of a harvest moon, had me in its smothering grip using the very magnetism of our earth and the wet, musty, moldy web of humid air to consume my corporeal form while slowly pressing the breath from my body and with it my life force.
While my son puttered around safely inside, I took another small, gasping sip of air, wondering if this one was the last, and fought with all the strength of a threatened being to move my eyes, my head, my soul away from that dark succubus. Then, as I exhaled a pitiful āpfftā of air, the heat resumed its insidious pilgrimage, reaping the last of my energy as it dug its icy claws into my skull on its creeping ascent to the top of my head.
From a distance, in my peripheral vision, I saw Seth approaching the sliding door to the deck which transitioned into the back yard. In a moment of panicked relief, I thanked God that my phone would soon timeout and lock, protecting him from a similar, gruesomely macabre end. As my sight diminished to a murky black tunnel beckoning toward a peaceful white light, I accepted the irony of my dying thought, āThank God for that stupid, hateful, and accursed phone PIN! Tonight, it will save my sonās life.ā
Did you know that hitting the ā¤ļø icon above or below, and sharing this post shows your appreciation for Brenās Buzz?
What do you think of Halloween? Is it your favorite or meh? How about my dark, creepy harvest moon pic?
Holy cow! That story caught me completely off guard!
Wow, what a story !