Again, I woke with a strange taste in my mouth, as if I had swallowed something sour and metallic. Just the result of falling asleep with my mouth wide open, I supposed.

Eager to get to work early that morning and review any new evidence, I hastily showered. While massaging shampoo onto my scalp, sizable amounts of hair clung to my fingers. I realized that I was balding and sighed. The stress of being one of the youngest, yet most highly decorated private investigators in the city really took its toll.  After eating a quick breakfast (I didn’t have much of an appetite), I left my apartment room and stepped out into the hallway, bracing myself for what I may discover beyond my door.

Like every other day that week, my building was crowded with the not-so-familiar scent of death and the familiar faces of police officers. Fear, I thought, spread as quickly as a malignant disease, and the amount of fear I could sense in that hallway could have wiped out an entire population. Near the far end of the hallway, I noticed a mass of pale-faced residents huddled behind the crime-scene tape, anxious and afraid. Seeing them, I was once again filled with the urge to make things safer for these people, to make things right. That was the reason I’d been so anxious to get to work early: because these attacks that had occurred had happened in my very own apartment. Unlike the other days, though, the officers were on ​my floor.

Curious, I walked towards the nearest officer, a man who worked closely with the detective agency I was employed by. “Samuel. You’re up early today.” The words were cheerful, but his tone was not.

“What happened here?” I inquired, not the type of detective to waste time on smalltalk.

Lamon sighed, and scratched his forehead. “The killer struck again.”

“But I thought you had made the necessary precautions?”

“We thought so too. The officer-on-duty was mauled near the entrance. It turns out that our protection is not enough- we need to evacuate everyone out of this building.”

I frowned- my apartment was the only true form of stability in my life, and I did not wish to move out. “I suppose so.” Lamon clapped me on the back. “Don’t give up just yet. This last incident? Well, there’s something different about it.” “What?” I demanded.

“We have a witness.” He nodded towards a young woman about a hundred feet away. She was speaking to another officer, and from her pale face and her frightened demeanor, she looked like she’d seen a ghost- or worse. “Sara Walters. She’s the girlfriend of Reese Maxwell. She didn’t see him get killed, but she saw the killer. She’s so traumatized, rambling on and on about how the murderer was some kind of alien. Poor thing. An experience like that really takes its toll on the mind.”

I was silent for a moment. I’d never truly spoken to Reese, despite our closeness in age, but he was my only neighbor on the floor. He was a senior in a nearby college and had rich, loving parents who generously paid for all of his expenses (among which, his penthouse apartment and his jet-black lamborghini). Although not all of my memories of him had been exactly pleasant- he was always having loud, boisterous parties on the floor- he was still a decent young man, and no onedeserved such a fate. His death gave me an even stronger reason to solve the case. “Do you mind if I bring the girl to my office, to ask her questions, maybe?”

Ross nodded. “Of course.”

I was about to turn away when I was suddenly struck with an idea. “Ross- the pattern the killer goes by. You know who the next victim is, correct?” It was quite obvious. The two residents on the first floor had been murdered. There were only two apartments on the second floor- mine, and Reese Maxwell’s. All evidence pointed to me as the next target.

“Well, it’s you, but you will be evacuated with everyone else today-”

“No. Get everyone else out, but let me stay. Bring your task force tonight. Have a stakeout in my apartment- I’ll be there.” “But Samuel, it’s not safe.”

“I am willing for my safety to be compromised if it gives us a chance to save more lives.”

Ross pursed his lips, and then nodded. “Well, alright then. See you tonight.”

—-

“It smelled like… like burning rubber. And something rotting, like a dead body left out in the sun too long.” I felt sorry to

interrupt her, but we didn’t have much time. I was grateful that Sara Walters was willing to disclose her encounter to me (as a detective, one always hopes for their witness to be willing to talk about traumatic situations) but I wished that she would cut to the chase. This was an interrogation, not a horror story. “I’m sorry, Miss Walters, but could you please give me a description of its appearance?”

“Oh- oh yes. I’m sorry.” Sara Walters breathed in and continued. “It was very thin and tall, but not superhuman tall. Six foot four, I would say, and it hunched over. It was…”-she shuddered- “…completely naked. Its skin was so pale. I think it was bald. I… I guess it was humanoid. But it was ​not ​ human.”

“Do you recall anything regarding its face?” I inquired, hoping that I could receive some plausible evidence instead of just the garish description of a Halloween costume.

Her dark eyes widened in terror, her glance averting from me to a spot on the floor. She went on, her voice trembling. “It’s angles were defined- its chin and cheekbones. It didn’t have a mouth, really- just a bloody smile carved onto its face- a permanent ​smile.” she took a shuddering breath and her eyes began to shine with tears. “And its eyes. They were white. There was no pupil or iris or anything. They were just milk-white. But for a moment, they stared at me, reading my thoughts-” I stopped her. “That’s enough for today, Miss Walters. Thank you.”

The young woman blinked. “Have a nice day, sir.” She hastily took her coat and left the room, hopefully leaving to get serious help.

Her description, despite sounding disrespectfully made up, had made me anxious to leave work and get home.

That evening, about eight officers whom I’d never met had assembled in my room- in full uniform with defense weapons by their sides. Video cameras were positioned in each corner of my room, the footage streaming onto computers at the office. For my protection, I was given a small pistol to keep in my pajamas. It felt strange trying to go to sleep with eight other people awake and wary in the room, but I managed anyways.

— The next morning, I woke to a display of sheer and utter terror.

I was unscathed, perfectly unharmed. But all eight of my protectors- the officers- were dead, lying in pools of their own blood. Some had been disemboweled, and others had been severely shredded and mutilated. Horrified by the scene, I buried my face in my arms, wishing for it all to go away. Instead of leaving my room, or calling for help, I remained sitting on my bed. My hands twitched uncontrollably.

After what seemed like hours but could have been a matter of seconds, paramedics and police officers arrived. The ambulance took the bodies away while the officers tried to interrogate me, but there was nothing to say. The others were dead. I was alive, and unharmed. That was all there was to it. They eventually gave up on asking me questions, resolving to come back later, and demanded that I should not go to work today. After they left, I went to work anyway, anxious to see the footage.

On the way to work, I organized my thoughts. All I remembered was waking up once in the night, longing for a drink of water. At that time, the officers had been awake and wary, quietly speaking in undertones. I had probably went to sleep after getting a drink- but then how come I hadn’t woken up when the killer was unleashing his rage? Dismembering bodies had to make some sort of sound, right? And why had the murderer left me alive? As a warning? A threat?

Entering the monitor room, I saw Lamon sitting at a chair. We made brief eye contact, and I could tell that he felt sorry for me. I tightened my hands into fists, my nails pressing into my flesh. I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want anyone’s pity. With all the evidence presented, ​I ​could have killed those officers. I was a prime suspect in my own mind, and I didn’t deserve any condolences.

“The footage has been lost.” Lamon said woefully.

“How?” I demanded.

“We don’t know. The connection was severed somehow, probably the murderer’s work.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with sympathy. “The other officers have probably boarded up your bedroom. You’re welcome to stay at my place, Samuel. I can-”

I turned away from him. “I don’t need your help. I was leaving anyway.”

I left the building, slamming the door behind me. Stepping out onto the street, the light seemed nearly blinding, and I had to squint to find my car. The sun was painfully hot, making me feel feverish and uncomfortable. The heat was only heightened by the anger and frustration that was bubbling inside of me. I was angry at myself. I was angry at my co-workers. I was angry at the murderer. I was even angry at the eight policemen for dying on me, incapable of handling their jobs.

That night, I stayed up very late, determined to solve the case. Even with organized evidence and absolute tenacity, I was still unable to figure anything out. I was starving, but I didn’t eat a bite. I smelled horrible, but I didn’t take a shower. I had a terrible headache, but I didn’t take any medication. At around one in the morning, I decided that I needed to take a break. I went to the bathroom and placed my hands in the sink, letting the cool water refresh my fingers that were sore from all my writing. Although I was not tired at all, I leaned forward and splashed some water on my face. The droplets hit my skin like ice, setting my veins on fire, stimulating me even further. I looked into the mirror, expecting to see a young man with droopy eyes and pasty skin who looked much older than his years.

I was not prepared for what I actually saw.

My skin was more than just pasty- it was blotchy and deathly pale. When I pressed my fingers to my face, I didn’t feel smooth skin- but a rough, furrowed material, like leather. Recently, I had noticed myself losing weight, but at this moment I realized how truly skinny I appeared. My posture was cringeworthy. I had the terrible urge to take off my clothes. The floor of the bathroom was littered with my hair, which I hadn’t realized was rapidly falling out. My hands were much longer and narrower, my fingernails like razor sharp needles. The angles of my face were even sharper. My mouth was a wide, unsettling line that looked like it had been carved into my face. I was a pale jack o’ lantern.

And the pupil and iris of my eyes had vanished. They were blank white. ​Milk white, staring into my soul, reading my thoughts.

I was humanoid. But not human.

Suddenly, everything made sense- the lack of appetite, the balding, the intolerance towards the sun, the hot temper. I didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though. I had to act quick. I already felt my judgement slipping away from me.

I stumbled out of the bathroom and staggered towards the kitchen, not even bothering to turn on the lights. I could already see everything. Fingers twitching and quivering, I opened the drawer beneath the stove and exposed my assortment of kitchen utensils. Immediately, I spotted what I was looking for.

My shaking hand managed to close around the hilt of the knife. I held the point against my chest. With just a small amount of force, I could take my life and save countless others. I would be a hero. I would resolve the case. That was what I had wanted all along, right?

I looked down and stared at the knife against my sternum, examining my reflection in the blade. In the fluorescent-lighted bathroom, I had been scared and afraid and confused. But now, in the dark room, gazing at myself reflected on the glimmering surface, I realized that I was strangely and terrifyingly beautiful. My skin was so pale that it glistened. My face was gaunt and angular. My white eyes were startlingly similar to the moon, the moon that was out right now, at 1 AM, waiting for me, waiting for my hunt to start.

I dropped the knife, feeling my perpetual smile widen even further.

One should never disobey the moon.