I Should Never Drive During the Full Moon (Part 1)

The full moon rose high over the sleepy town of Greenpine, casting a silvery glow over the winding roads that snaked through the surrounding woods. The sky was an endless expanse of dark velvet, clear and still, not a cloud in sight. The air was thick, heavy with a quiet tension, as though the world was holding its breath.

I could feel it. I could always feel it on nights like this.

I’ve never liked full moons. Not the way the light stretches shadows unnaturally long, making the world around feel like it’s bending into something wrong. Not the way the wind, on nights like these, seems to carry whispers, secrets too faint to hear but heavy enough to notice. Something about these nights unsettles me, gets under my skin, making my thoughts turn toward the darkness instead of the road ahead.

I knew better than to drive on nights like these. And yet, despite that feeling – despite everything that told me to stay inside, to lock my doors and wait it out – I found myself behind the wheel. There was something I couldn’t put off, a door that needed to be closed, a promise I had to keep. So, with a quiet reluctance, I climbed behind the wheel of my car.

The hum of the engine cut through the stillness, too loud, too alive for a night like this. The headlights flickered once before they steadied, casting their beams over the road ahead, stretching their reach into the darkened forest on either side. The car began its slow crawl forward, the sound of tires against asphalt was the only thing that seemed to anchor me in the moment. The world around me felt distant, like I was separated from it by some invisible barrier.

As I drove, the landscape blurred at the edges of my vision – distant trees, the occasional flicker of a streetlight. My fingers gripped the wheel, sure and steady, but there was a tension in my chest I couldn’t quite shake. The road was empty, but I couldn’t help the sense of unease that crawled up my spine as the miles passed.

I’ve never been one for superstition. Not really. But it was hard not to feel something tonight, something lingering just beyond the edge of reason, waiting to reach out. The road ahead curved sharply and the trees seemed to lean in closer, watching, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something move in the darkness. Something dark, quick, darting between the trees. My hands tightened on the wheel, as if I could force the unease out of me. I blinked, and it was gone. Perhaps it was nothing, just the play of shadows in the moonlight.

The road ahead stretched on, empty and quiet. The farther I went, the heavier the tension seemed to grow. My breath came a little faster, and I glanced up at the moon, hanging above like an unblinking eye. It was too bright, too cold. It made the world seem unfamiliar, as if it had been replaced by something else entirely, something that wasn’t meant to be. I tried to shake the feeling. It was just the moon, just the night. But I couldn’t get rid of it, the sense that I wasn’t alone. That there was something watching me, waiting for me to make one wrong move.

Then came the sound.

A low growl. Deep. Resonant. It rolled through the car like a wave, shaking the air around me. My chest tightened. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, filling the space, pressing in from all sides. My heart slammed into my ribs. The car seemed to shake beneath me as my hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles going white. I glanced at the rearview mirror. The road was empty, still, silent. As it had been for miles.

The growl came again, louder this time, as if it was circling me, closing in. I looked out the side window, searching in the darkness for a source, expecting to see something – anything. A bear, a wild dog, a coyote, but there was nothing, only the shifting shadows and the cold light of the moon.

I checked the rearview mirror again. Nothing. My breath was shallow, coming in uneven gasps. The growl had stopped, but the silence that followed felt worse. It was suffocating. My eyes couldn’t stop darting back and forth, searching the darkness for anything that might explain what I was hearing, what I was feeling.

And then, in the corner of my eye, I saw it.