The Moon's Whispers

Brightly, so bright, the moon glistened. A glittering beam of pasty white light basked my ashen skin as I lied motionlessly amongst the long grass in my beloved sheltered field. It was deathly quiet, no sounds of singing birds, creaking crickets or howling wind. The only noise on which to focus on was my own heavy breathing and the rustle of the grass which curled itself around my emerald green dress, encasing me in a protective layer as if the very field knew that a thick shroud of death was following closely behind me, reaching out with jagged talons, only just out of reach.
I keep my distance from others for a reason. My mother and father both died in a tragic car crash, "Oh how terrible for you Marni!" people exclaimed when they heard of my misfortune. I was five years old. I barely remember them. My mother's sister, my Auntie Kim, took me under her wing and raised me as she was my only living relative. She was lovely... poor Kim. Shortly after taking me in, she suffered a miscarriage much to her and my uncle's dismay, and a few months later she discovered she was infertile. Years passed and I grew older, I was fourteen when my Auntie was found hanging in an Orchard; my Uncle missing. Kim had not hung herself, for the stab wounds in her arms suggested struggle; they presumed my Uncle was to blame... until they found his body in a lake from a neighbouring town a week later. He was bloated and blue-skinned with lacerations round his neck and half of his face missing. He was unrecognisable, but I, the last living member of the Carnell family, knew it was him by the Chinese tattoos on the upper half of his left arm which read 'spirits will shake in my presence, alone they shall leave me; else my soul will wreak vengeance.' The foreign charm was meant to have saved him from harm, though they failed to protect him from the beasts that lurk in my shadows.

I only feel safe at night, under the watchful eye of the moon. Sleep brings comfort and my dreams provide a release from the forces that hunt me. It's strange that your dreams feel more real than your conscious life, and it is only when you wake that you notice things were wrong. This is what I use to decipher the days ahead of me... No one is better at reading the meanings of our unconscious worlds than I. Have you ever felt like you are alone when you are surrounded by people? When everyone is talking and laughing and getting on with their business, and yet it feels as if all eyes are on you? That every awkward move you make is being monitored and every simple sound you make is amplified? Well I feel like that all the time, and those moments are when the spirits are watching you, studying you, deciding how best to claim your soul. First they will gain your trust, normally by acting as your friend. You see, they appear human at first. But then when you are at your most vulnerable they seep into your mind and almost plant suicidal thoughts in your brain, no matter how happy a person you normally are. Normally however, if that fails, the spirits will assist you in your demise.
Have you ever seen a shadow at night, that seems more like a figure or beast than an object, and you fail to find where that shadow was coming from? So you freeze, staring at that spot, your breath growing rapid and your heart beating faster... But that shadow is just a distraction, it is really what's behind you that you should be afraid of... But don't worry, most people are watched by the spirits, but not harmed. It's those with special qualities that are the main targets or those whose family have traded their relative's soul for their own greedy benefit. And both of those apply to me...

I was suddenly aware of a presence in my sacred place, so I sat up swiftly, brushing the grass from my dress and tucking a strand of my long, silky, white blonde hair behind my ear. Sat about a meter away from me was a young man, who looked about a year older than me, so he was probably 18.
I suppressed any feelings of shock or anxiety and looked fixedly at his face, which was facing downwards, staring at the floor as he ripped grass off of the ground. He had a strange aura about him.
He had glossy black hair that reached down to his chin, and the smooth layered cut highlighted the darkness of his hair as it reflected the moon's silver rays. The boy looked up as if he knew he was being watched and looked me straight in the eyes. His eye colour was such a deep brown that they almost appeared black, but they were so youthful and sparkly that it startled me momentarily.
"Hello! I didn't see you there." The boy told me with a voice so elegant that it seemed to have come from someone else. He had a faint Scottish accent as well. I loved accents.
I raised an eyebrow questioningly and studied the boy's pale face. "Well I was just enjoying the seclusion of this beautiful field." I hinted, wishing him to leave me alone. I was testing him as well.
He failed to pick up the hint, or simply ignored it and went back to tearing up the grass that he had started to put into a pile. "I'm Keenan by the way," the lad said to me without looking up again.

"That's nice... Do you come here often?" I asked. It may have sounded silly but I had a good reason for asking.

This time he looked hard at me as if trying to read what I was thinking. "Sometimes yes, only at night though. Maybe a few nights a week..."

I knew it.
"Give it up." I spat at him.

"What are you on about? Give what up?" He retaliated whilst putting his hands up in submission.

"I know what you are. You're one of them."

His mouth spread into a grin as he laughed to himself. "Ok, you got me! What gave it away? My devastating good looks?"

I couldn't help but be amused by his cockiness.
"What gave you away was the fact that you mentioned you come here a few nights a week, and as I come here EVERY night I assure you I have never seen you before... I thought someone of your abilities would have done your homework and known that." I taunted him, flicking my hair back with my arm.

"Ah, well maybe I did know that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, wondering why he would have came had he known I would figure out his identity. I was met with silence. I suppressed my anger, "So what's your real name? Or can't you tell me?"

"Keenan is my real name... Hey, if you don't like my appearance I could change for you."

I was tempted to tell him to leave me alone and try to worm his way into my life another day, but I was strangely fascinated and his offer of changing intrigued me. "Show me then."

A smile spread across his face as his body seemed to change, his face shifted and morphed. In the matter of a few seconds he had changed from the pale skinned, dark haired young adult to a dark skinned, brown haired young man with hazel swirled eyes.

"Can't you change ages too?" I spoke my question out loud.

"No, sadly I can't."

"Then how old are you?"

He rubbed his chin in thought, which in his new appearance, was chiselled and dusted with prickly stubble. "That's a hard question... In our world I am four hundred and sixteen, in your world I am nineteen."

"Oh, I see!" I gasped astounded. "Change again please." I asked of him, feeling outlandishly entertained with our unusual conversation.
He did as he was told, his face morphing once again, the colour blending and changing. When he finished transforming I felt myself blush deeply. He looked like the boy whom used to be in my dreams... My 'dream' boy, I used to call him.