Add your deal, information or promotional text

The Night of the Blood Moon Sky

Dead leaves crunch underfoot as you wander along the forest path. The evening is crisp, the air thick with silence and mist.

Up ahead, a figure emerges from the fog. Tall and dark, they’re making their way deeper and deeper into the woods. You have heard tales of the fathomless forest and you know it is home to creatures beyond your understanding... yet you are intrigued.

Head swimming with twisted curiosity, you follow the stranger as they step away from the well-worn path, turning into the thick of the woods. The forest is dense now, and the trees whisper secrets in your wake. You continue to follow the figure until at last you come to a clearing, illuminated in the ethereal glow of the full moon.

 

 

A soft fur blanket is draped across the forest floor, and the stranger beckons you to take a seat. The lunar glow illuminates them now, and you can make out wiry silver hair shading their dark eyes. The smell of musk, dark bergamot and ancient curses surrounds the air where they stand.

Worry begins to cloud your mind, yet an unknown force wills you to sit, captivated by this mysterious stranger. You set yourself down gently on the blanket and see a picnic lying before you, baskets overflowing with dark forest fruits, perfectly ripe.

The stranger takes a black cherry in gloved fingers and offers it to you, their expression blank. You take the cursed fruit and raise it your lips to smell the sweet flesh, juicy and fresh, but you dare not take a bite.

 

 

The edges of the moon are beginning to flush and the sky darkens midnight as the stranger picks up a glass bottle and pours you a goblet of blood-red wine. You raise the goblet to your lips, inhaling its warmth and bittersweet tartness. You feign taking a drink, but carefully do not allow the liquid to touch your lips. The stranger smiles but it does not extend to their eyes. They rise and turn away.

You look on in horror as their silhouetted form begins to shift beneath their robes, limbs gradually begin to extend and their shape alters, deforming under the wicked moon. With a gasp you drop the goblet, staining the forest floor crimson with regret. Deep in the tormenting throes of transformation, the creature is oblivious to your actions.

With no sense of direction, you begin to run. Attempting to retrace your steps, you stumble over briar and bramble, clothes tear but there is no time to inspect the damage. Barely breathing, you arrive at the edge of the forest and continue your escape through a meadow until your eyes lock onto the warm glow of a village; safety. You exhale and collapse behind a crumbling stone wall.

 

 

Hardly daring to look, you peer over the wall and in the distance you can make out a figure. The sky darkens with rage, the moon blushed with crimson. A wolf; its trembling body coated in silver fur and dusted with scars. It lifts its weary head to the sky and cries out, howling in anguish.

The faint smell of black cherries, musk and mulled wine lingers in the dense air. The moon is stained red with blood, but the werewolf will not curse another tonight.

Close call.

 

If you have an inquiring mind, and sometimes when the moon is full, you still see the wolf in your dreams... take yourself back to that night and reminisce on the enchantment by lighting Blood Moon Sky.

Mood:A werewolf howls in the distance, lifting its dark eyes to the blood red moon and blackened sky. Shimmering silver clouds thinly veil the stars, drifting over the lunar eclipse.

Smells like... Dark bergamot, musk, black cherry and mulled red wine.

 

Sold out

4 Responses

Nicholas Gordon

Nicholas Gordon

November 04, 2020

Nice Story, Leah!

Its quite a mood. Fun. Makes me excited for the fall.

Here is one I wrote for the enchanted grove of the spring collection. Haven’t really edited but its fun I think.

The note read:

Come find me Emmie!
I have something amazing to show you!

Take the Northward path from the Old Orchard.

I’ll meet you Mags

“Magdalene Mae Withershins!” saying her name as her mother would, “what in the heavens and hells have you gotten yourself into this time!!”
I cursed sinking down against the cool stone wall that divided the pasturelands from the orchard. Mags’ family lived just on the pasture side, where the creek met up with the long, sloping hill of the orchard. Every day save sabbath we would meet up here where a thick hazel tree thicket met the border. It made an open area between the trees and the old stone wall. We helped each other with our chores which gave us both more free time.
Reading the note I realized many strange things about it. First and foremost, it was on a smooth, white, beautiful paper the likes of which I’d never seen. Whenever Maggie and I left notes for each other it was scratched on a piece of tree bark; we had seen paper many times in books, scrolls, folios and things of that nature, but this was of another world. It seemed to shimmer in the cool shade of our neighborly hiding place as I read it.
Second, while the signature was undeniably Mags, the body of the letter was in a beautiful, flowing script that I’ve never seen before. The only time I’d seen the like is when pap received a personal note of gratitude from Lord Harrington for catching his prized silver mare which had gotten loose. It must have been written by his personal scribe, because the lord himself could not be bothered to pick up ink and quill. He sent this note with a courrier along with a feast’s worth of food. Of course, we just found the horse chewing some plums from the orchard, so it really wasn’t trouble, but we Pap was so proud he made it seem like he’d gone all the way to the sands of Atruvia to bring the beast back.
Third, there’s the message. The North path had been forbidden ever since the cobbler’s son, Haphelm disappeared after chasing a young boar up that way. There were terrible noises heard the night the search party went out, and none of the men involved have ever spoken about that night since.
Years before that Maggie and I had gone up that way picking berries and collecting sweet flowers for granny to make into scented waters. While we were fine, we got quite lost, and ended up missing both our suppers and then being denied breakfasts as punishment. As a final straw, my Mam set me up working to plant a completely new garden that day, without a lick of food in sight. Oh how I longed to have one of Mam’s delicious egg and potato pastries that day. Luckily Pap stopped by and dropped me a few of his nuts and dried berries he always carries around, so I didn’t pass out from hunger. Still, Mags and I thought twice about ever venturing out that way again.
Finally, and this is what made my stomach really churn; I hadn’t heard or seen hide nor hair of Maggie in 2 days, and she hadn’t left a note or message of any kind. It wasn’t too uncommon for her to disappear for 2-3 days being press-ganged into working on her uncle’s fishing boat, but she would always tell me or at least leave a note here before leaving. Her Pa was off with the flock and would be 1 or 2 days away in the highlands, and her other siblings had chores to do over at the lord’s manor until after sundown. This left no one who could confirm her whereabouts, and I couldn’t very well rally up the men after what happened to the cobbler’s boy Mags would be beaten silly and punished for years if her family knew she went up there willingly.
Everything just didn’t add up, the beautiful note and writing, the fact that it was left for me in a spot that ONLY Mags and I knew about, going up the north path; something was just off. All of these thoughts were whirling around my head, but I knew there was really only one thing to do: go and find her.
With this newfound resolve I pushed myself up, and pushed through the crook in the tree that served as the entrance to our hideout. Instead of turning back towards home to grab food or supplies, I made my way up the Orchard path. If I went home I’d surely run into Mam and she’d never let me run off. I had chores to do, but Ellie owes me huge favor for ruining my good shoes when she borrowed them in a rainstorm. She knew I was worried about Mags since we talked the night before, so she had offered to do it if I didn’t find her.
The mid spring air felt surprisingly dry today, and there wasn’t a cloud brewing anywhere in the sky, so I knew I had a relatively good chance of staying dry and warm so long as Maggie’s little adventure didn’t take too long.
“What could she be doing?!” I spat out loud to myself. Mags has an adventurous soul, but she is incredibly loyal and it wasn’t like her to go off completely alone.
Heading through the orchard I started to feel invigorated. It had been over a year since I’d last been able to skip out on chores, and I was reveling in the temporary freedom. Many of the fruit trees were now in full bloom, and the scents were amazing. Plums, orange yellow and green citrus all grew on the property, and their scent could be intoxicating this time of year.
I noticed my reflection in a still pool of the creek as I made my way. My long, red hair was tied in 3 braids, 2 small ones on my temples, and one long behind my head. My long dress is a light peach color as was popular a year ago when I bought the fabric, but this spring the favored color is a mint-green, and the months of wear were starting to show. I am a little more plump than mags, but I think I still make a striking figure. I did a little twirl as I moved away from the water’s edge.
About half way through the orchard and up the hill I turned to look back and saw that Ellie was already working on preparing kindling to heat water for the luncheon soup. I could barely make her out in the summer kitchen from my vantage. Good. My work will be done and maybe we’ll be back without trouble this time.
Nearing the end of the orchard the trees start to grow old and gnarly, some have ceased producing good fruit, but most trees here flower like crazy. In the fall the old trees tangled branches look downright frightening, but in the warm clear spring light the place felt inviting. Mags and I called this place “The Enchanted Grove” because it looked so mysterious, but this morning it felt even moreso.
My walk slowed as I entered this part of the orchard. I could feel a pang of anxiety, but also excitement at the prospect of exploring the forbidden more. Most of all I wanted to see Mags — hold her hand.
Finally I stopped. Just to my right was the path to the North. I took a deep breath, sighed, and turned into the forest path.

Holly

Holly

October 22, 2020

What a beautiful, captivating story. I truly can’t wait until my candles arrive tomorrow. Looking foward to burning Blood Moon Sky while I reminisce about my enchanting night with the silver wolf. 🐺 🩸 🌙 🍷

Gina Rubino

Gina Rubino

October 22, 2020

This is brilliant!!

Gina Rubino

Gina Rubino

October 22, 2020

This is brilliant!!

Leave a comment (all fields required)

Comments will be approved before showing up.

Search