Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)The cold winter dark was broken by the flashing lights of the police cars surrounding the large, but abandoned Victorian house on Verona Island, the Maine fog was accentuated by the frost from the cops' breath. Inside a tall, handsome though shabbily dressed man reached for the young teen he had found waiting outside a remote diner in her parent's car. Tears, sweet delicious tears ran down her face as he grabbed her hair and set his gun to her temple, forcing her to open the door. They stepped out onto the creaky porch and the man yelled to the cops "ALL of you back off, I'm not afraid to shoot the little bitch if I have to!" he said, moving the gun pressed against her temple menacingly. A million clicks rang through the night as the officers pulled back the hammers on their rifles. One of the officers there recognized the girl, she was a neighbor, a local girl -he gritted his teeth and took aim, waiting. As the fugitive turned the officer saw his shot, it would be clear and he could make it with no risk to the girl.
For the fugitive, everything flashed red for a brief second and then he saw the girl run away from him. He lunged and was confused as she kept running. He looked around, the police were putting away their rifles and walking slowly -slowly? didn't they see his gun? and walking towards the porch. "I'll shoot you! I fucking will!" he said and then held up his hand, realizing with horror that it was empty. He looked down on the porch and there, in a growing pool of blood laid ..his body?
It didn't take a genius to realize what had happened, or what would come next if he dared to leave. He had been on the run for a string of bank robberies alone the main coast and he had never hesitated to kill. This had brought out the attention of the FBI and local police, who had trailed him through countless miles and a string of stolen cars. He remembered the cute young girl, almost completely blossomed into womanhood and how scared she had been. Too bad he hadn't had a chance to...
Well, regardless. He looked into a mirror -surprised to see his reflection. He was tall, short black hair and had rugged good looks, thin from living on the run but not exactly lanky or skinny. Not that anyone noticed. The house laid empty for the rest of the fifties and when repairmen came to renovate the house during the early sixties noting he had done had seemed to get their attention.
He began to doze, every few years he would blink and a family or a couple would be moving in. Sometimes, if the woman was cute or the family had an attractive daughter he would even stay awake. The more interested he was in the females, the longer he stayed awake -and the more he managed to scare them, the more interested he became.
At first he was only able to give them chills or "the willies", but he learned with practice how to make things move, and even how to concentrate so that they felt his touch -more importantly, so that he could feel them. This never lasted for very long before they would leave in fright. A few months, a year -once the family was not even unpacked before they fled.
Jonathan Brin blinked awake and looked around. He had no idea how long it had been, but he had slept through this family's moving in, but he awoke with a start, and a sensation he had almost forgotten. He looked around at the newly furnished rooms and saw a calender -2009? He had slept for a long while!
There would be more shocks to come. As he walked into the living room he recognized the old woman sitting on the chair -it had been her that he had held on that evening long ago! A sensual, evil thrill rushed through him as he recognized her face, even with the passage of time. He tried to focus, to gain some sort of tangibility -and failed. He was so caught up in the frail, visiting grandmother that he hadn't bothered to notice the rest of the family.
Eventually she left and he looked around and took stock of the rest of the family. He smiled evilly when he saw the daughter -she was the same age, and looked like she could have been the twin of the girl who had gotten him killed those years ago.
As the family talked and watched television and settled in for their first night in their new home Jonathan stuck close to this girl, occasionally waving a cold, wafting touch through her hair. She would sleep, eventually -and then Jonathan would follow her to her room and see what he could do....
For the fugitive, everything flashed red for a brief second and then he saw the girl run away from him. He lunged and was confused as she kept running. He looked around, the police were putting away their rifles and walking slowly -slowly? didn't they see his gun? and walking towards the porch. "I'll shoot you! I fucking will!" he said and then held up his hand, realizing with horror that it was empty. He looked down on the porch and there, in a growing pool of blood laid ..his body?
It didn't take a genius to realize what had happened, or what would come next if he dared to leave. He had been on the run for a string of bank robberies alone the main coast and he had never hesitated to kill. This had brought out the attention of the FBI and local police, who had trailed him through countless miles and a string of stolen cars. He remembered the cute young girl, almost completely blossomed into womanhood and how scared she had been. Too bad he hadn't had a chance to...
Well, regardless. He looked into a mirror -surprised to see his reflection. He was tall, short black hair and had rugged good looks, thin from living on the run but not exactly lanky or skinny. Not that anyone noticed. The house laid empty for the rest of the fifties and when repairmen came to renovate the house during the early sixties noting he had done had seemed to get their attention.
He began to doze, every few years he would blink and a family or a couple would be moving in. Sometimes, if the woman was cute or the family had an attractive daughter he would even stay awake. The more interested he was in the females, the longer he stayed awake -and the more he managed to scare them, the more interested he became.
At first he was only able to give them chills or "the willies", but he learned with practice how to make things move, and even how to concentrate so that they felt his touch -more importantly, so that he could feel them. This never lasted for very long before they would leave in fright. A few months, a year -once the family was not even unpacked before they fled.
Jonathan Brin blinked awake and looked around. He had no idea how long it had been, but he had slept through this family's moving in, but he awoke with a start, and a sensation he had almost forgotten. He looked around at the newly furnished rooms and saw a calender -2009? He had slept for a long while!
There would be more shocks to come. As he walked into the living room he recognized the old woman sitting on the chair -it had been her that he had held on that evening long ago! A sensual, evil thrill rushed through him as he recognized her face, even with the passage of time. He tried to focus, to gain some sort of tangibility -and failed. He was so caught up in the frail, visiting grandmother that he hadn't bothered to notice the rest of the family.
Eventually she left and he looked around and took stock of the rest of the family. He smiled evilly when he saw the daughter -she was the same age, and looked like she could have been the twin of the girl who had gotten him killed those years ago.
As the family talked and watched television and settled in for their first night in their new home Jonathan stuck close to this girl, occasionally waving a cold, wafting touch through her hair. She would sleep, eventually -and then Jonathan would follow her to her room and see what he could do....