My story happened a long time ago when my grand father was just a boy. He told me the story one night when I was old enough to understand it. Now that I recall it, I'm trying to add as much detail as I remember from him. The story captured me so much that even now when I put it on the paper I feel overwhelmed by a sense of dark magic. The story began like this:
It was the third full moon that month. It was not as shiny and round as the first one but definitely brighter then the second. I was heading back to the orphanage when I heard something in the dense bushes on my left. I stopped to see what it was, trying to penetrate through the darkness but could not make out what it was. Seconds later a beautiful pale brown-coloured owl swooshed out of the bush into the moon light.
I followed it with my eyes until it vanished in the moon.
That night I felt a hard pressure in my body. I tried to fall asleep but I woke up several times in my bed with a strange feeling of insecurity. Something was awaking me and I did not know what it was. It was then that I heard the voices: strange, almost inhuman as if coming from people under torture. I never paid attention then knowing that lots of thing could happen on a full moon night.
I finally fell into a deep sleep and I didn't wake until the sun filled the room with its shine. It was a beautiful morning. I decided to go visit my only friend down at the cottage by the sea. He was an unusual man and nobody liked him very much. They thought he...