And Everything Went Black

What really happens under the influence of a blood moon?

Jim stumbled out of his local pub, The Fleece and Gun, at exactly 1.07 am, just a few minutes prior to the shutters being drawn causing a deep echo to fill the streets. Jim walked between the row of parked cars and the footpath. He walked with one foot on the pavement, the other on the road.  Never before on any of his intoxicated wanderings from the pub did Jim think to himself, ‘I’m going to climb this tree’, but tonight was different. The moon was coated in an amber film, creating a blood moon. The little illumination from the moon was bouncing off the windows of every two- and three-story house on the street. The tree that Jim decided to climb was much larger than any other both in girth and height. He wanted to touch the moon. However, as always his escapades didn’t go to plan, as half way up the first branch of the tree it snapped. Jim was sent hurtling onto the windscreen of a brand new Ford Focus, cracking the entire windscreen from corner to corner. He stood up and merely brushed off the incident. In truth, he probably didn’t realise what had just happened.

Jim successfully pushed open the gate to his house with his hips without falling over. Once at the door he fumbled for his keys. Finally, he slipped the key into the door and opened it hassle-free. He locked the door behind him and barged through the living room as if to surprise someone, but no, the living room was empty. He turned on the light to see his shadows being cast onto three different walls. The new chandelier he bought created a fractal effect. He stood alone gazing into the mirror at himself, his eyes displaying an elusive sadness, however he was too drunk to care. He crept upstairs on all fours cradling a two-litre bottle of ice-cold Coke he had just taken from the fridge. Once in bed, the room began to spin and Jim vomited all over the mahogany stained wooden flooring. Tucked up safely in bed, still holding the bottle of Coke as if it were his own baby, he began to drift off.

The sun split the curtains of Jim’s bedroom. He tossed and turned trying everything in his power to prevent the sun burning his retinas besides getting up and closing the curtains. Unable to sleep, he swung his legs out of bed, landing his feet in a congealed pool of the ghosts of Sambuca. His face twitched in horror. After wiping the vomit from his feet, he walked downstairs to find the front door wide open. Jim shut the door and instinctively searched the house. Nothing was stolen or broken. Jim remembered fragments of the night before, which lead him to believe he hadn’t actually locked the door. He rang his best friend to discuss the debriefing of the previous night; unfortunately for Jim he got roped into another night out.  He didn’t mind, it was the August bank holiday weekend and he had the entire week off work, a rarity for Jim.  He opened the curtains in the living room, revealing his shadow being cast on three different walls. He thought it was weird but was too hungover to care. The only thing that was on his mind was the perfect hangover cure: a fry up.

After breakfast Jim hopped in the shower, he had to head into town to give his boss some forms for holiday pay. As Jim walked down the high street, the sun was blistering the shoppers. Jim couldn’t feel the heat, instead he felt cold, in turn generating dirty looks from shoppers dressed in shorts and t-shirts. Jim wore a parka and black skinny jeans. He had a frail frame; 5ft 10in with short, close-shaven blonde hair and green eyes. His ears had size 16 tunnels and his left arm was covered in a full sleeve of tattoos, though his right was only a half sleeve. He was a tattooist by trade. Jim walked to the shop, seeing his boss closing the shutters.

            ‘Alright buddy? Jesus you look like s**t. Rough night?’ asked his boss.

            ‘Yeah, definitely, listen I’m really sorry I…’

            ‘Don’t be apologising, I’ve filled out the forms for you, all I need is your signature on Monday and you’ll have your holiday pay.’

            ‘Thank you, do you fancy coming for a pint tonight?’

            ‘Sorry, Jim, I can’t. Some b*****d smashed the windscreen of my nephew’s car last night. Actually it was in your street, did you see or hear anything?’

            ‘F**k, you can’t have anything nice these days can you? No, I didn’t hear or see anything, I was passed out last night,’ said Jim, as he caught his boss staring at the ground.

            ‘Anyway, I have to pick him up from work tonight so I can’t drink. You take it easy on the ale tonight; I need you fighting fit for work on Monday. Did you catch the start of the blood moon last night?’

            ‘No, I didn’t realise there was one,’ said Jim.

            ‘Just be careful. Anyway, I’ll see you later,’ said his boss as he walked away, giving a wave to Jim in the distance. Breathing a sigh of relief Jim waved back before he himself started to walk away. He walked past HMV on the way to get the bus, but stopped glancing at the ‘four for twenty’ deal on DVDs. That’s when he noticed that his reflection was not there. Other people walking past him had reflections but not Jim; he had a vast darkness to stare into. He turned and began to walk with haste away from the shop, checking in other windows along the way to get the bus, looking for his reflection.

Back in the house Jim was still shaken up, however his nerves calmed down after he walked past the mirror that sat atop his mantelpiece, to his delight seeing himself staring back.  He sat down for a minute to gather his thoughts, before realising the time and rushing to get ready to go to the pub.

Jim went to the toilet in the pub, he pushed the door open and the light was flickering. He didn’t notice; it was already a challenge to piss in the bowl of the urinal. With the light flickering, a shadow was cast on the wall he was facing. He walked away to re-join his mates at the bar. His shadow didn’t move until a couple of seconds after he did. Once at the bar, Jim’s friends had lined up ten tequila shots, at first Jim refused them, the smell invading his airways made him feel nauseous, but with a little peer pressure and no willpower he succumbed and drank all ten shots consecutively.

At 1.07 am Jim had found himself in a predicament just like the night before: how to get home. He traversed all of the suburban objects including the roots outside of number sixty-six that claim so many drunken souls and forsook them with a hard thud to the pavement. On more than one occasion it claimed Jim, but not tonight. Once he reached his front door, he fumbled around for keys, but couldn’t find them. He had only just realised that he had forgotten his coat, inside which resided his keys. The pub was shut now; there was nothing he could do until morning.  Jim, refusing to accept that he was locked out, travelled along the entry to the side of his neighbour’s house. He climbed on top of the fence in the hope of reaching his garden. Unfortunately he misjudged his footing and fell through the neighbour’s green house, completely destroying it. Jim could see the lights in his neighbour’s house come on; he s**t himself and managed to get over the fence leading to his garden. To Jim’s luck he had forgotten to lock the back door.

Once inside the living room he turned on his big light, scaring away the darkness that once lay in the room, except for his shadows that were cast on the walls. Tonight though, there were only two shadows; not three.

Jim woke up to the sound of a jackdaw outside his window, screeching to ward off any predators. He threw his pillow at the window in a half-arsed attempt to silence the bird. In a fit of rage he jumped from his bed to the window and started to imitate the jackdaw’s call.

‘See how f*****g annoying that is, especially when you’re nursing the mother off all hangovers,’ Jim said before finally opening the curtains.

‘Well I can’t get back to sleep now, cheers mate.’

            As he finished having a go at the bird, he heard glass shattering downstairs. Running to the banister Jim noticed the front door was wide open again. He cautiously moved down the stairs and into the living room, where his mirror had fallen off the wall and smashed. Jim tiptoed around the broken shards of glass to get to the kitchen, carefully not getting any glass in his feet. He spent at least an hour making sure he had got all the glass off the floor. Afterwards, he went upstairs to get a shower.

Whilst Jim was showering, he ran his hand across his back to find a shard of glass wedged between his shoulder blades. It must have happened to him when he demolished the neighbour’s green house last night. He walked to his room and sat down, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. That’s when he noticed the jackdaw wasn’t squawking anymore. He walked over to his window where he looked in the nest of the bird, only to see the bird was dead with a shard of glass between its shoulder blades.  Jim completely freaked out and rang his friend to come over with some new locks for the doors.

            ‘Hey fella, how’re you?’

            ‘Not good to be honest… a lot of weird s**t has happened,’ replied Jim.

            ‘Weird s**t?’

            ‘Yeah, well, I mean like, last night I left my keys and coat in the pub, so I had to climb over the back fence to get into the house. Then this morning the front door was wide open. No wood was splintered, no locks were broken, nothing was stolen so it clearly was not a burglary.’

            ‘Have you considered that maybe you unlocked and opened the door last night, you were completely Fubarred.’  Jim sat and looked at his friend with a blank expression.

            ‘You know Fubarred! Fucked beyond all recognition. Hell, you managed to climb over the fence and completely destroy your neighbour’s greenhouse.’

            ‘What!?’ said Jim, his eyes widened.

            ‘Yeah you completely shattered the greenhouse and broke some fence panels. I was talking to them when I was smoking out the front. To be fair though I wouldn’t tell them it was you, they haven’t got a clue.’

            ‘Let’s get the locks on now!’

            ‘Alright, Jim, slow down. What’s the rush?’

            ‘Either help me now or leave!’

            ‘Okay, okay, I’ll help you, just calm down.’

They put the new locks on all of the doors and secured them with bolts.  His friend asked Jim to go out again that night and without hesitation Jim agreed; he didn’t want to spend any more time than he had to in the house with everything that had transpired.

Later that night Jim was sat in the beer garden with a pint of Wild Berries Rekorderlig, a shot of Jack Daniels to his left and a cigarette in his right hand. He looked up gazing at the stars and moon, catching a glimpse of the last night of the Blood Moon. He already had started thinking about a new tattoo he wanted to design of the Blood Moon in the distance with a dying willow tree in front, stretching to the moon with twisted branches. Everyone was having a great time, drinking, smoking, and telling jokes. Jim sat reserved just trying to escape from his own thoughts. He needed more drink, he thought, and polished off the drinks in front of him and continued to buy more.

‘Didn’t I tell you to be careful on the ale?’ said a voice from behind Jim.

            ‘I can’t believe you’re out. How is your nephew?’ asked Jim.

‘He’s okay, buddy, it’s cost £75 to replace the windscreen. I know right, Auto-Glass is a load of s**t.’ Jim laughed and turned to the bar.

‘I’ll have three shots of Sambuca and whatever he is having.’

‘Cheers, buddy, I’ll have a pear Koppaberg.’ Jim turned around to hand his boss the drink and caught him staring at the ground once again.

‘You be careful tonight, Jim, of all nights.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Jim.

            ‘Come on, drink up.’ Jim completely overlooked what his boss said and simply shrugged his shoulders before downing a shot of Sambuca. Before leaving the pub Jim’s boss grabbed his arm firmly and whispered in his ear.

            ‘Beware of the Blood Moon on the last night of the summer solstice, for it is the soul that loses its will to fight.’

            ‘Ha ha, you too, get home safe,’ Jim slurred.

Jim walked home successfully, not causing any collateral damage on the way. He remembered his keys and coat and opened his front door hassle-free. He stumbled into the living room and turned on his big light. He looked around and left the room to go to bed. He did not notice that he was not casting any shadows.

At 1.07am, Jim woke up to see black figures like silhouettes running out of his room. Startled, Jim leapt from his bed in an attempt to catch up with the figures. He reached the banister and saw them running out of the front door. Jim followed, chasing them into the middle of the road. Before Jim could react bright white lights consumed him; he fell to the ground, lying motionless as everything went black for a moment.  He stood up and dusted himself down. He swayed from side to side trying to regain his balance. He felt different, almost as if a part of him died inside.

‘Are you okay?’ asked a voice. Jim turned to look at the man standing next to him.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘Maybe we should get you to hospital?’

‘No, I’m fine!’ said Jim as he walked back into his house, slamming the front door and returning to bed. The next night Jim stood in the same spot where everything happened, the light from the bright white moon was casting a shadow from Jim’s feet in the shape of his mangled corpse. A smug smile crept across his face.

‘It’s like I was sleepwalking. Humans, you don’t realise how often you die.’