The moon cast its pale glow over the forest of Fenlock illuminating the eyes of the creatures that dwelled within. Mist intermingled with the trees giving moss just enough moisture to creep over every surface in the wood. Unsettling noises broke the silence of night in the trees, but seldom was there anyone around to hear it. Tales of the forest of Fenlock were well known to any folk living even remotely near the region. Everyone had heard of the disappearances, the anomalies, and terrors that seemed to inhabit the trees. It was common knowledge among all the children who lived near never to venture into the trees. No one was ever caught in the woods after dark or in the woods at all, except for this night.
A woman of middle age traipsed along the pathway at a brisk pace casting quick glances from side to side then around. Her breath could be seen in the moonlight. This woman had long black hair beneath the cowl of a traveling cloak. Her lips were full and a harsh red compared with the fair skin of her face. Her eyes were a vivid green suffused with fear; fear for the snoring bundle wrapped tightly in her arms. The woman pulled back the cotton flap and looked at the cherubic pink face of her daughter. Her tiny little fists were tucked under her chin, and only a wisp of warm air escaped from her mouth when she breathed. Just beneath her lower lip was a birthmark, a perfect circle. The woman ran her thumb across the child’s chin and smiled as she pulled the bundle to her protectively.
When the baby began to stir and fidget the woman pulled the cotton flap back over her child’s face and continued on her way throwing more glances around the area. Her steps quickened as she stepped onto the stone path she had been searching for. The path twisted and turned, winding ever closer to the center of the ancient wood. At last she came to a circular clearing, overshadowed by looming trees that reached out to grasp the two fugitives, for they were fugitives. She was a mother who could not give up her daughter as she was expected, and the baby who was born on the second full moon of the year. Always a baby was born on every second full moon of the new year, a child touched by spirits they say. Strange things happened around these children, they say, odd occurrences, unnatural things that shouldn’t be. When they tried to take the child away, of course the woman couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t allow it. Didn’t allow it. So she stole away with her child into the night followed closely by the light of torches and angry shouting.
She stepped up to the stone outcropping in the center of the clearing laid her little girl on the flat top of the stone, and knelt. She pulled her cross out from around her neck and held it between her clasped hands as she prayed to God. Tears dropped silently as she rocked back and forth as she plead. As the shouts grew nearer behind her she started to weep, little whimpers and gasps escaped her, but she only continued to pray. She rested her clasped hands next to the little bundle on the stone outcropping and leaned close to the little girl to whisper, “No voy a dejar que te tienen, a mi hija.” From behind her came angry yelling as men entered the clearing holding weapons of unspeakable horror.
A whistle of wind and a soft thump silenced the woman. She gasped and fell in a heap on the ground, but as she looked up a bright shining light had appeared. And she wept on the ground at the beautiful sight. She closed her eyes, laid her head on the ground, and was no more. A pool of blood surrounded the woman an arrow protruding from her back. The man standing nearest the woman dropped his bow and fell to his knees.
The men stood astonished and wide-eyed staring at the beam of light before them. The light seemed to kneel beside the woman for a moment. Then it stood and stepped over to the kneeling man and his bow. The light leaned close to the man and whispered something to him in a language unknown to the man. The light then began to grow brighter and soon even brighter lighting up the entire clearing around them. Then it was gone. And so were the little girl and her mother. Never to be seen again, and never again was a child born two moons after the new year.
All the men in the clearing asked the man with the bow what the light had said to him, and he told them. “Never again will I let you take a child of mine. A daughter of the moon.”
Bio: I’m just a young aspiring writer hoping to progressively gain the skill to distinguish myself in the future, and I also wouldn’t mind writing a line of books as big as the Harry Potter series…. Hope you enjoyed the story. Big thanks to Short-Story.Me.