Crimson Moon Transformation

The view from the window was not something I could have ever imagined. The moon shone through the walls of the mansion, bathing the foyer in its orange light, but it wasn’t a pleasant sight. The moon was a deep red, as if covered in blood, and it radiated a crimson veil over the people below me. They were dressed in what looked like medieval clothing; doublets and cloaks, with little pattern on their tunics. People walked up and down the steps of the mansion, carrying bags and even what appeared to be food supplies.

I felt a sudden pain in my head, as if someone had punched me right in the temple. I fell to my knees, holding my head with both hands while gritting my teeth. As soon as the pain faded away, I found myself standing upright again, peering out of the window once more. At first, I thought that I was dreaming, but then I remembered something else: I had died.

* * *

It started off as just another day at work. I walked into work early that morning; nobody else was there yet apart from our assistant manager Barbara who was checking the stock for today’s shift. We talked for a moment about her daughter’s cheerleading competition before she saw me off to my station in aisle six. That’s when it happened: one of our customers ran into me when he came around the corner. He was running so fast that he didn’t see or hear me until he bumped straight into me and knocked me over. Luckily, we were near the end of aisle six so nobody else got hit by his trolley as he continued sprinting towards the door. I picked up my broken sunglasses from off of the floor before slowly standing back up and rubbing my sore shoulder where it had impacted with a pile of boxes behind me. In front of me was an open door leading to aisle seven; no one should be there at this time because it wasn’t opening time yet and we never opened up that aisle until late afternoon when all of our other customers went home for dinner. I could hear voices coming from inside though; they sounded frantic and they spoke fast and loud enough for me to hear what they were saying from outside of aisle seven through their heavy Korean accents. “Stop pushing! You’re going to break it!” One said urgently in English before quickly followed by another voice shouting in Korean “No you idiot! You have to push harder! It has to fit!”

I peered inside through a small crack between two boxes stacked on top of each other in front of me so that I could get a better look at what they were doing. What I saw shook me to my core: they were attempting to force their way out through an air vent on the wall using a peculiar crowbar that appeared as if it belonged in one of those medieval torture devices seen in movies like Game Of Thrones or Lord Of The Rings. Additionally, the vent they were attempting to escape through must have been on fire, as flames flickered along its edges at certain points and even across its length when one individual prodded against it with his crowbar, producing several sparks that fell onto his black hoodie shirt. This caused him to yelp and turn around, shouting angrily at everyone else, instructing them not to intervene until he gave permission. He then resumed his relentless assault on the vent cover as the others watched with worried expressions, darting their eyes around as if searching for an alternative means of escape rather than being trapped inside the cramped closet with the dangerous individual set on freeing them by opening a vent cover that seemed to only exacerbate the fire.

* * *

As soon as I made eye contact with one individual who stood separate from the rest, his own shock-filled eyes locked onto mine, recognition dawned: he was a regular customer who frequented my section every week since the store had opened. This time, however, he was caught staring into my eyes while leaning against a shelf full of stock, which resulted in him accidentally knocking away an entire row of items that subsequently crashed loudly onto the concrete floor beneath him. The noise caused everyone to halt their activities and anxiously glance around, wondering why there was such a commotion after everything had been so quiet thus far. One person then noticed movement within aisle seven, prompting people to rush over and investigate, only to discover the man slumped against the shelf, buried under boxes that had destroyed most of the surrounding merchandise. They now hoped he could somehow justify his actions, given that he had demolished our valuable inventory without paying for a single item.