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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1839140-Bad-Moon-Rising
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1839140
Raymond explains to his children what happens when the bad moon rises.
Raymond began tucking his children in just like any other night. But, there was something different about this night. The moon hung low in the sky, glowing blood red. If you looked at the moon in the right angle, it almost appeared to be dripping.

"But Daddy, I don' wanna go to bed," Mary protested. "Look outside at that beautiful moon! Can' we stay awake a bit longer?"

Raymond hesitated. She was right, it was beautiful, even if a bit creepy. He had only seen a moon like this once before and he knew it was rare. He also knew that he had things he needed to finish tonight, and he didn't need children distracting him.

"Not tonight darlin', Daddy has things he needs to finish. There will be other moons like this that you will have plenty of opportunity to look at. Next time, I'll let you stay up all night, if it pleases you!"

He hated lying, but, again, he had things he needed to finish up. The quicker these children got to sleep, the quicker he got on with his duties.

"At least tell us a bedtime story, Daddy!" she insisted."Make up something scary about that red moon, Daddy!"

She was stubborn and insistent, just like her mother had been. Raymond really did need to get on with his nightly affairs, but then again, Raymond really did want to spend some time with his girls, especially this night.

"Does it have to be scary?" Raymond inquired. He didn't want to frighten the little ones.

"YES!" Mary's high squealed pitch rang in his ears like a church bell at noon. Raymond walked over to sit on the edge of Mary's bed while the other girls made a pallet on the floor out of pillows and blankets as they nuzzled in closer to hear the adventure. Raymond hesitated once more, buying time for his tale.

"It's said that a Bad Moon rises once every seven years," he began. "Bad Moon's are easy to spot as they lie low in the sky, appearing large enough to be another planet invading Earth's atmosphere. The Bad Moon radiates a red glow that appears to ooze blood, dripping slowly from the moon if observed carefully. Rare, are these Bad Moon's, and omens of the worst kind. In this pale red moonlight, the Voodoo Man carries out his business."

"What is his business?" Mattie chimed in. Raymond give a quick, though thoroughly genuine, smile at his daughter as she stared at her toes as if not even listening.

"He's a debt collector, darlin'," Raymond continued. "He collects the debts of the shadows. The shadows have no need for money, but bargain with souls. You see, when a Bad Moon appears, the Voodoo Man makes deals to those who are in need of something. Then, seven years later, when the Bad Moon appears again, the Voodoo Man returns to make good on old debts and make new debts to collect on in seven years."

"What kind of things does he make deals with, Daddy?" Mary asked as she shifted in her bed, unsure of what kind of answer she expected.

"He offers fame and fortune to all, and beautiful woman to men. All for the low, low price of a few souls. Not usually their own, you see. He preys on the ignorant. He seeks those that think it a joke and chalk up success to coincidence. He then returns in seven years to collect on the souls of...the children." He paused to give an emphasizing look around to his children to see if it had any impact.

"But, Daddy, no one would do that, would they?" Mary asked, with a perplexed and quizzical look on her face that was probably meant to be concern.

"Of course someone would. In fact, I've heard tales of people in this very bayou shaking the hand of the Voodoo Man himself. In fact, the most famous person in this bayou, "The Amajun Cajun" came from right here."

"Who is that?" Mary asked, obviously more enthralled with the story than Raymond had hoped.

"He was one of the world’s greatest tight rope walkers. Rumor has it, he grew up right here in this bayou, learning to walk on tight ropes across gator infested swamps. He was a local hero with his feats, but never could get into the big times. One peculiar night, while practicing, a man approached from the east. Legend has it, he appeared to be walking out of a big red moon that sat on the horizon. The man offered him a shot to be famous! Said he could travel the world, walking tight ropes and make a name for himself. He promised fame and fortune, even said he would meet a beautiful woman who bring him children. Three, he said, to be exact. All the Cajun had to do was agree to give him the souls of his kids when he returned."

"Tell me he didn't agree to that Daddy," Zarine said, breaking her silence.

"Well, at first, he laughed, thought it quite humorous. But, he eventually did accept the Voodoo Man's offer, still not taking him serious. Shortly afterwards, the circus came through town. When the circus owner heard of the Cajun's talents, he immediately sought him out and signed him to join the show after a brief viewing of his talents. Within no time, the Circus had become a hit, with "The Amazun Cajun" becoming the center of the show. As the circus grew in popularity, so did the popularity and demand of the Cajun. The Cajun stuck with the Circus, even started training some understudies. But, where he became real popular, was when he started doing death defying stunts on his own. The Cajun was fearless; waterfalls, canyons, and skyscrapers, nothing was off limit. It was this success that led him to meet his wife, a beautiful actress who would go on to bear him three children, just as promised by the Voodoo Man."

"Does this beautiful actress live here in this bayou?" Raymond could see the anticipation in Mary's eyes, begging to meet the woman.

"Unfortunately, she passed away during the birth of her third child. Complications or childbirth, the doctor said.”

"Well, does the Cajun still walk tight ropes?" Mary bubbled with the hope of meeting a celebrity.

"Daddy, what's a tight rope?" Zarine asked. Raymond was surprised she didn't chime in sooner, she was the youngest, only four, and thought she must be dozing in and out.

"A tight rope is a rope that is tied at two ends and hung high enough for a person to walk on the rope. And no, he doesn't still walk on tight ropes." He could tell by Zarine's lack of response that she was probably asleep again, as was her sister beside her on the floor.

"Why not, Daddy?" Mary was relentless.

"Well darlin, the Cajun had a bad accident. During one of his performances, he became distracted and fell from a great height. He was severely injured and had to quit tight rope walking. Besides, if he still walked, who would watch after his children?"

"So, if he doesn't walk anymore, did he return to the bayou? I would like to meet him someday." Relentless indeed.

"Darlin', it's all a story, made up. You asked me to make up a story about the Moon, so I did. Now look, let’s go ahead and shut it down for the night, Daddy has some stuff to wrap up before getting to bed." Again, he hated lying to her, but he really did have things to do and the other two girls were already asleep.

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Good night, darlin'," he said while standing to tip-toe around his other two girls. She mumbled something back as he reached the door. He took one final look over his shoulder at his three precious daughters before leaving the room.

Raymond grabbed the box off of the mantle and walked toward the table, box in one hand, a bottle of scotch in the other. He didn't drink from the bottle. It was thought uncivilized in some places, he had learned. He grabbed a small glass off of the bar adjacent to the table and poured it half full. Lifting the glass mouth level, Raymond paused briefly, as if lost in thought, before lifting the glass all the way to his lips and tossing his head back. He winced as he slammed the glass down. This was as good as scotch got, though he wasn't ready for it.

He had been saving this bottle for about four years now. Once upon a time, he had quite the fancy for fine Scotch, but that was back when he had money. This bottle, however, had been saved for this night. A night of reminiscence. He opened the box and took out the first few papers on top, glancing over them. This is where his sizable fortune had gone, medical bills.

He took another shot of scotch. This one went down a bit smoother than the last. He pulled out a picture of a woman, a beautiful woman. He sat, staring at the picture for a moment while sipping on another glass of scotch. He looked up to the mantle, staring at a picture of a woman, the same woman as the one in his hand, but a different picture, of course. Digging back into his box, he picked up a news paper clipping. The clipping had a picture of the same woman, but again a different picture. He read through the article while throwing down a few more shots. A single tear streaked down his cheek. His eyelids served as a dam, holding back the rush of tears as he mumbled the last few lines of the article to himself: "...she died of complications of childbirth. She is survived by her husband, Raymond, and their three daughters."

After a long while, Raymond set down the obituary and grabbed the last group of papers. A small smile crept across his lips as he relived the headlines, all proclamations of the greatness of "THE Amajun Cajun." Raymond took one last sip of Scotch. Damn, he thought, I've forgotten how good this is.

Raymond walked out the front door, sorrow in his face, cane hand. He began limping down the road, deliberately using his cane as little as possible; he deserved the pain.

He walked east, due east, down a dirt road that lead straight into the moon, it seemed. A giant, red moon that salivated blood and hung low in the sky...still. The feint shadows cast by the moon seemed to grow as he walked, getting ever closer to the moon. An elongated shadow in front of him started taking shape of a man with a hat. Raymond looked up to find the same silhouette etched into the red moon. Raymond sought to clear his mind as he reached the Voodoo Man.

"You tricked me!" Raymond shouted.

The Voodoo Man tried to act surprised, but the contempt was obviously fake. "I did no such thing, Raymond. I gave you fame, fortune, and a beautiful wife. Oh, and let’s not forget the three children...which are mine now, I guess." The Voodoo Man gave a sly smile.

"You son of a bitch, you tricked me! You did NOTHING! The carnival was coming to town anyway; I would have been discovered without you! I would have had my success without you, and I would have met my wife, WITHOUT YOU!"

"Maybe," the Voodoo Man smirked, "but what of your children? Was that not part of the deal? Did I not promise you would have three children? Did you not have three children? Is that not proof enough?"

"NO! No, no, no...you didn't promise I would have three children. You said I had to pay the price of the souls of three children! You lied! You took a wild guess and hoped I wouldn't have three, thus I wouldn't be able to fulfill my contract and you could curse my family! You tricked me!!! All for what, a shanty in the swamps? Where's my fame, my fortune?!"

"Now Raymond, how dare you insult my integrity," the Voodoo Man said coolly as he nonchalantly dusted off his bowler. "We had a deal, Raymond. I said you would be rich and famous, and you would marry a beautiful woman. I upheld my end of the deal. Just because you floundered away my blessings doesn't mean I didn't come through. Now surely you are willing to pay me the simple price and not make things get complicated, right?"

"I've come to pay my price," Raymond said bitterly. Behind him, Raymond heard horrific, terrified screams. He turned to look over his shoulder, but all he could see was blackness. All he could feel was fear, almost to the point of being paralyzed. Almost. He starts as if to go help his daughters, their screams tearing his heart apart.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Raymond." The Voodoo Man kept an indifferent look about him. "Surely you know that I know about your other children."

"What are you talking about?!" Raymond responded quickly. A little too quickly. But, he was so cold, too cold to keep his wits about him. The blackness and the screams where everywhere. What had he done to his daughters?

"Oh, we are gonna play dumb, are we? Don't think I don't know about your bastard children with your little love thing. Step into that blackness, not only do we have a breach of contract, but you will see your daughters mangled in ways you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares. It’s already started. I advise you to let the shadows finish it. Oh, and if you are thinking of breaching your contract, let me remind you why we are both here right now: you don't want the curse upon your bastard children."

Raymond looked sullen and broken. He shivered uncontrollably from the cold that emanated from the blackness. His daughter's screams a noon bell echoing in his ears. He turned to leave, to walk away from the Voodoo Man and the blackness. He gave the Voodoo Man one last cold, blank stare. "You leave us alone you son of a bitch. You stay the fuck away from my family. I'm through with you.”

Limping away with his head hung low, Raymond fought back the tears. He was young and dumb, he didn't know any better. He hoped it was all a dream, all a bunch of coincidences, but he had to make sure he could continue living, just in case. Yes, his new family, that was where he was going. Raymond was going to put this all behind him. Start over fresh with a young, beautiful woman and their two sons.

"It’s been nice doing business with you, Raymond, come back anytime, you hear?" The Voodoo Man was just poking the bear now.

"FUCK YOU!" Raymond shouted as he continued to limp away.

"Oh, one last thing Raymond." That sly smile returned to the Voodoo Man's face. "You've never mentioned any of this to your pretty new thing, have you?" Raymond paused and turned to glower at the Voodoo Man, face filled with hate. "I only ask because, when I talked to her earlier tonight, she seemed to have no knowledge who I was before we struck up a deal...."

© Copyright 2012 Jeremy Scott (chrataxe at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1839140-Bad-Moon-Rising