Blood Moon

Source: GoodFreePhotos

It was the night of the Blood Moon. Tanith felt a stirring of unease. The Unseen were gathering, in force.
She could feel it.
When she had been an infant she had been reduced by their amassed energy to frantic cries, which her
parents failed to comprehend. The priests and healers had proclaimed her sound of body but strange of
mind. They prayed and burned incense.
Standing by her window, she stared out over the Fen. Mist swirled in the moonlight. It coalesced and
dissipated, creating fantastic shapes. The other crofters had barricaded their doors, muffled their windows,
and bright fires burned in their chimneys.
She alone watched, hidden in the dark.
Time had taken the edges off her memories: the loss of her precious daughter, the bitter fading of her
angry husband.
Distracted by her reverie she was brought back by the advance of a rider. It flowed over the uneven
puddles as if they did not exist. Transfixed, she watched its form take shape in translucent light a few
paces from her window.
The ghostly mount pawed the ground, the horseman stood in his stirrups, holding out a hand to her.
“Little Sister, it is Time. Come Home.”
200 word stories © Kim Magennis 2018