THE VENGEFUL LUNA

Paranormal

Last Updated : 2022-08-21

By: Astha Completed

Language: English

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I can feel the heat of my predator’s breath on my neck. For him I will never be just a memory. I’ll always be a goal, always the thing that lies ahead just out of reach. If I have anything to do with it, that’s where I’ll remain. But I know his hunger, his patience, his relentlessness. His heart beats once for every ten times mine does. And I’m so tired now. I wonder here in the frigid cold if the chase will end tonight and which of us will be dead, really dead, when it’s done.

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BALL GIRL

The party was scheduled for six p.m. that evening. It was to hold at Cubana's Luxury and all the classy, rich, fun lovers would be there, including tourists who visited the city on weekends just for the sole purpose of enjoying the inexhaustible recreational activities it has to offer. Annie was a thirty three years old independent, city, young woman. She was tall as a few shorter people would describe her. In fact, she was about 5.4ft tall and weighed about fifty seven pounds. Slim, fair, chocolate skinned, and a figure to die for. Annie visited her hair stylist, and got a make over. She preferred for this weekend that her lush black hair be packed all the way to the top and wrapped in a huge circle on the top of her skull. She had her lashes fixed, her hands manicured with nails as thick and long as every twenty first century young lady liked it. She was mostly a loner, living alone in a one room self contained apartment on the twenty third floor of a victorian building. The weeke

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110 Chapters

BALL GIRL

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

THE MUTANT

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

About an hour later, Gray's suffering didn't seem to get any better. "You're depreciating, man," Michael said. "He's too old and his body is rejecting mortality," Joey said. "Should I bite him?" "No, it's not that simple,""Should we summon your parents?" Michael asked Gray. "Yes, take me home." * * *Annie was awake again. She was dazed just like before, and wasn't sure if she was awake or dreaming or in a trance. She looked towards the walk-in closet where she'd previously found the gapping door and there was only silence. The doors were also closed as if nothing had happened at all, but she was hearing a sound such as could only come from the shores of a river or sea or ocean. She hadn't noticed before that the house had a beach behind it. She stood from the bed and glided towards one of the French windows. She knew it was still night because the house was dark and the room she was sleeping in was dimly lit. If it was daylight, the windows should have been enough to allow a

LOLITA

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

When my mother named me Lolita, she thought she was being literary. She didn’t realize she was being tragic. But then, I’m not sure she understood the concept of tragedy, the same way that people who are born into money don’t realize they’re rich, don’t even know there’s another way to live. She thought the name was beautiful, thought it sounded like a flower, knew it was from a famous story - play or novel, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you. I guess I should consider myself lucky, since her other choices were Ophelia and Gypsy Rose. At least Lolita had some dignity.I’m thinking this as I push a cart through the produce aisle of my local supermarket, past rows of gleaming green apples and crisp blooms of lettuce, of fat, shiny oranges and taut, waxy red peppers. The overly familiar man in meats waves at me and gives me what I’m sure he thinks is a winning smile but which only serves to make my skin crawl. “Hi, honey,” he’ll say. Or “Hi, sweetie.” And I’ll wonder what it is abou

SPOOKED

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

It’s as if the sun has dipped behind a thick cloud cover and the sky has gone charcoal. Only they haven’t. It is a bright, unseasonably cool, spring day in Florida. The parking lot is packed, populated by moms and nannies with their kids of all ages on spring break before Easter. I hear laughter, a gull calling; I smell the salt from the Gulf of Mexico. But inside I am quaking. There’s cool black ink in my veins.I slip into my SUV and lock the door, grip the wheel, and try to calm myself. I’ve had these panics before. Usually they are isolated incidents, intense but brief like the summer storms here. In the last few days, though, they’ve come one after another, surprising me with their ferocity. False alarms, Gray calls them. I’ve always thought of them more as an early warning system.This one is deeper, blacker than I’m used to. I am truly afraid, sweating and going pale. My breathing starts to come ragged, and I glance in my re

THE TATTOO ARTIST

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

Gray is late coming home, and Victory is already sound asleep upstairs in her room. I am sitting on a leather sofa I didn’t choose and don’t actually like, watching the high, dancing flames in our fireplace as he walks through the front door. For a second he is just a long shadow in the foyer; he could be anyone. But then he steps into the light and he is my husband, looking strained and tired. He doesn’t know I’m watching him. When he sees me, though, he smiles and looks a little less world-weary.“Hey,” I say, getting up and going to him.“Hey.” His embrace is powerful and I sink into it, hold on to him tightly. There is no softness to him; the muscles on his body are hard and defined. In this place I am moored. The churning of my day comes to calm.“Want a drink?” I ask as I shift away from him. He holds me for a second longer, tries to catch my eyes, then lets me go.“What are you having?&rdquo

BEAR

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

He’s quiet for a moment, and I know he heard the lie in my voice. Takes one to know one. I listen to him breathing as he ponders what to say. I remember a lot of heavy silences over long-distance lines with my father, me desperate, him inadequate or unwilling to help. At last I say, “Tell me again, Dad.”“Oh, honey,” he says after a slow exhale. “Come on. I thought you were past this.”I sigh and listen to Victory chatting to her doll in the other room. “You’re so pretty,” she tells it. “On the outside and the inside. And you’re smart and strong.” She’s mimicking the things I’ve told her about herself, and it makes me smile.“Loli, are you there?”My father always thought my name was silly. He calls me “L” or “Loli” or sometimes just “Loli.” As if those aren’t silly things to call someone. I think he used them to

THE DAY I DIED - I

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

Today something interesting happened. I died. How awful, they’ll say. How tragic. And she was so young, with everything ahead of her. There will be an article in the paper about how I burned too bright and died too young. My funeral will be small…a few weeping friends, some sniffling neighbors and acquaintances. How they’ll clamor to comfort my poor husband, Gray. They’ll promise to be there for our daughter as she grows up without me. So sad, they’ll say to each other. What was she thinking?But after a time this sadness will fade, their lives will resume a normal rhythm, and I’ll become a memory, a memory that makes them just a little sad, that reminds them how quickly it can all come to an end, but one at which they can also smile. Because there were good times. So many good times where we drank too much, where we shared belly laughs and big steaks off the grill.I’ll miss them, too, and remember them well. But not the same way. Because my life with them was a smoke screen, a caref

HE NEVER CAME

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

Esperanza, our maid and nanny, is unloading the dishwasher, putting the plates and bowls and silverware away with her usual quick and quiet efficiency. She’s got the television on, and again there’s that image of the now-dead woman on the screen. It’s as though nothing else is ever on the news. I find myself staring at the victim, her limp hair, her straining collarbone and tired eyes. Something about her expression in that image, maybe an old school portrait, makes her look as though she knew she was going to die badly, that her mutilated body would be found submerged in water. There’s a look of grim hopelessness about her.“Terrible, no?” said Esperanza, when she sees me watching. She taps her temple. “People are sick.”I nod. “Terrible,” I agree. I pull my eyes away from the screen with effort and leave the kitchen; as I climb the stairs, I hear Esperanza humming to herself.Upstairs, V

THE FIRST SIGHTING

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

I’ll never forget our first August in Florida. I didn’t even know it could get that hot; the humidity felt like wet gauze on my skin; it crawled into my lungs and expanded. Violent lightning storms lit the sky for hours, and the rain made rivers out of the street in front of our trailer park. And the palmetto bugs-they made New York City roaches look like ladybugs. The only thing that redeemed Florida for me was how the full moon hung over the swaying palm trees and how the air sometimes smelled of orange blossoms. But generally speaking, it was a hellhole. I hated it, and I hated my mother for moving us there.The Florida I live in now with Gray and Victory is different. This is the wealthy person’s Florida, of shiny convertibles and palatial homes, ocean views and white-sand beaches, margaritas and Jimmy Buffett. This is the Florida of central air and crisp cotton golf shirts over khakis, country-club days and fifty-foot yachts. To be honest, I hate it jus

SHRINKED

THE VENGEFUL LUNA/Astha

A couple of months after my mother and I moved to Florida and I had settled reluctantly into my new school, she started to act strangely. Her usual manic highs and despondent lows were replaced with a kind of even keel that felt odd, even a little spooky.The early changes were subtle. The first thing I noticed was that she’d stopped wearing makeup. She was a pretty woman, with good bone structure and long hair, silky and fine. Like her hair, her lashes and brows were blond, invisible without mascara and a brow pencil. When she didn’t wear makeup, she looked tired, washed out. She’d always been meticulous about her appearance. “Beauty is power,” she would tell me, though I’d never seen any evidence of this. We were in the kitchen on a Saturday morning. I was eating cereal and watching cartoons on the small black-and-white set we had sitting on the counter; she was getting ready for the lunch shift at the diner. The ancient air

THE VENGEFUL LUNA

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