Love Under The Moonlight

It was her fiancé’s death anniversary today.

There were times where Erin Wesley would forget that he was even gone.

In a recess of her mind, already incapable of rational thought, she believes that he was still there next to her.

Erin Wesley regrets a lot of things—but what she regrets most was the reason for his death.

A year ago, her company had elected to put in a three-day nature retreat in the modest township of Hawthorne. Settled in the middle of a woodland, Hawthorne is a quaint, picturesque town in the mountains of Colorado. There was nothing much to look at in the small mountain town. With its size of just being 10 square miles, it was a miracle that her company was even keen enough to find inns and cobblestone passages within the area.

The people were hospitable and friendly. Most of the time, their closeness was a little unusual, though it was natural because Erin understood that the town rarely had any visitors.

The only activities one could do would be to delve into their extensive forest either by foot or bicycle, or one could ride a kayak and boat through their short, scant river.

Honestly, if she had been with her fiancé, Hawthorne would have been an exceptional honeymoon haven.

The particular thing was, the town had a peculiar little practice.

Hawthorne was inhabited by approximately 400 people. Most of them knew one another, most of them were familiar with one another, most of them were born, raised, and would probably meet their demise without ever leaving the small town.

According to one of their tour guides, it was them adhering to the tradition left behind by their forefathers.

In the town of Hawthorne, it is a tradition for the townspeople to isolate themselves for a period of time and meditate on specific days of the year. It's generally part of a type of honoring ritual that can last for an entire week. The custom has no specific name. The townspeople just collectively refer to it as the times where they have a routine observance on the night of a full moon.

That’s why on full moons, they close down the town and do not accept any guests within their territory.

And visitors who were there, have the responsibility to take off before the full moon comes out.

Erin had no idea what would take place if she were not to leave before the full moon. She suspected it would have meant paying an outrageous fine or spending the night in the town’s tiny substation looked after by one of the county sheriffs.

Whatever it was, she didn't know.

All she knew was that she didn’t wish to find out.

That’s why when she understood they had to leave, she called for her fiancé to come to pick her up.

She wanted him to see the town and maybe, if they had sufficient time, she could give him a small brief tour and they could come to an arrangement that it was the place where they wanted to spend their honeymoon together.

Erin had felt utterly attached to the land.

She couldn’t point out why.

Her fiancé had agreed, of course. She could ask anything, and he would hand it over to her and many more. Erin could wish for the entire world and he would gift it to her on a silver platter.

That was how affectionate and charming her fiancé was.

She had tried calling him, texting him. She even tried to search for decent Wi-Fi all over the small mountain town so she could at least seek to contact him through social media sites. It didn’t take long for Erin to understand that she wouldn’t get an answer from him.

And since the night of a full moon was close, she had no choice but to catch a ride on the company bus.

On their way back to the city, that was when she saw it.

A familiar silver sedan.

A familiar silver sedan that was upside down, surrounded by yellow tape and flashing red and blue lights.

August McClaren died at the prime age of 27.

According to the investigative report, he was presumed to be going over the speed limit. They assume he was rushing over to something, to someone. The rain started drizzling sometime during his drive, making the asphalt of the one-way lane slippery. Investigation states that August had almost hit an animal with his car, probably a deer, and the immediate slamming of his brakes caused his silver sedan to spin out of control.

His tire tracks were all over the pavement, pointing to his sedan that was upside down.

Erin can’t even recall if she had cried. All she could think of was that she felt her body move on its own. She felt weightless as she bolted from her company van, feeling arms try to hold her back from approaching the sedan of her fiancé.

They did not even give her the authorization to look at him.

The sheriff restrained her from undertaking so. Their faces were recognizable.

Erin realized they were the same sheriffs from the small mountain town of Hawthorne.

The only thing she could look at was the dented door of her fiancé's silver sedan, the smoke coming out of the hood of the car, the stink of gas and melted plastic, and the speckles of shattered glass stretched all around them like little twinkling glitters reflecting the glow of the moon.

The full moon was out, and she couldn’t even rejoice in its charm.

Erin remembers the detectives had approached her. She remembers an icy hand tugging her aside, presenting her a cracked antique watch that was oh, so familiar she couldn’t stop her knees from turning into jelly below her. If it wasn’t for the arms that gripped her up, she knew she would have fallen down on the filthy, wet floor.

They had informed her August McClaren was too shredded and deformed to be identified up close.

Erin’s hearing was toned down after that.

She couldn't identify if it was because of the intense blaring of the law enforcement sirens or her body seeking to look after itself and prevent her from finding out any more than that.

She could catch the sheriff’s mouth moving. She could sense arms reaching out for her, drawing her down, planting a heated blanket on her shoulders as they pushed her to perch on the hood of a car.

In front of her, she could see her shadow's figure on the ground, barring the light of the red and blue flashing siren behind her. She could feel her trembling arms hugging herself, struggling to console herself some way, somehow.

No longer will Erin feel his arms wrap around her waist and draw her into an embrace as they fell asleep.

No longer will she feel him smile against her lips as they share a passionate kiss.

No longer will she see his dimples appear on either side of his cheek when he beams at her with that smile of his that could end wars.

No longer will she see him in a sleek tuxedo, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks as he waited for her with a grin on his face on their wedding day.

Erin found it amusing that she could still meet him at the end of a church aisle.

August would nevertheless be probably wearing a suit.

The only distinction was, instead of waiting for her at the end of the aisle, standing with his hands inside his pockets as he gave her that toothy grin she cared for so much, he would be inside of a white casket.

At least, that was what she had assumed.

As soon as the county sheriffs had informed her of the investigative reports, as soon as the county sheriffs had advised her about the pieces she required to know about her fiancé, August, she was driven home. She didn’t even get the opportunity to get her suitcases back from the company van.

One of the female sheriffs had driven her straight home.

Her company had just sent her bags to her doorstep the day after.

That’s why she was more than crushed when she found out what went on with August.

After that,Erin had received a call from an unknown number.