Bad Moon:Book One in the "I Am Chaos" series.

Chapter 1: The Itch and the Dream

"The unconscious sends all sorts of vapors, odd beings, terrors...up into the mind... In dream[s]...  not only jewels but also dangerous jinn abide...And they may remain unsuspected, or, on the other hand, some chance word, the smell of a landscape, the taste of a cup of tea, or the glance of an eye may touch a magic spring, and then dangerous messengers begin to appear in the brain. These are dangerous because they threaten the fabric of the security into which we have built ourselves and our family. But they are fiendishly fascinating too, for they carry keys that open the whole realm of the desired and feared adventure of the discovery of the self." 

- Joseph Campbell. The Hero With a Thousand Faces. 

Chapter 1: The Itch and the Dream

"Where are you going?"

Granny stops me at the back door. Outside, at the wetlands' edge, the tree limbs twist like snakes, beckoning.

"To the woods."

"Not tonight. There are creatures about." Granny looks over my shoulder and reaches overhead, untangling the crystal chimes that hang just above the door.

"But Granny..." Something is out there. Something is calling me.

"Shouldn't little girls be afraid of the dark?" Granny asks, taking my shoulders firmly in her hands.

"Why be afraid when I should be feared?" These are my mother's words. We're not allowed to speak of my mother in Granny's house.

Granny's hands clench about my shoulders. "What nonsense are you spouting?" Her voice shakes slightly. "Go back to bed."

But I don't want to! A storm rises up in me, and outside the trees begin to thrash.

"Eva, stop it!"

Eeeeeeevvvvaaaaa. The wind roars. The windows clatter in their frames.

Eeeevvvvvaaaaa. "Eva stop!" 



I opened my eyes, breath catching on a gasp. In my chest a familiar, restless energy churned. Staring around the dark bedroom, I tried to shake off the lingering vestiges of the dream. Where am I? This isn't Granny's house; it's Cal's.

Sitting up in bed, I pushed my dark hair out of my face, and stared out the window. A willow waved wildly from the back of the yard. Limbs like snakes. I shuddered.

"What time is it?" asked Cal beside me, softly. His dark gold lashes parted to reveal sleep-fogged brown eyes.

"The witching hour," I teased. It was midnight. The clock on the bedside table read 12:01. "Go back to sleep."

I didn't need to tell Cal twice. He flopped back over and buried his face in his pillow. I wish I could have done the same, but I was wide awake. Sliding out of bed, I fumbled around on the floor for the Salem High Track sweatshirt I'd had on earlier in the evening.

It was cold in Cal's apartment. He'd apologized when I first arrived: I don't turn the heat on until November. We were still a week or so away from that. Luckily, I'd packed leggings, which I'd discarded earlier for a pair of Cal's boxers. Finding the crumpled leggings near his dresser, I changed, made my way down his narrow staircase, and stepped out into the cool, windy evening.

Ever since I was little, I've called these midnight wake-ups my "Itches." My mother used to get them, too. In the days before she disappeared, she and I would wake up together. And we would walk. "It's the chaos in our blood," Mother said often.