Blood Moon

~ Chapter One ~

After a long day of bartending at the Pig and Whistle, Christina was glad to be going home. It wasn't that she didn't like working at the grungy, little pub in the heart of the city; as a matter of fact, she rather enjoyed her job. But, some days... well, some days felt longer than others.

She liked the night shift, but sometimes the guys who couldn't handle their booze got a little over-confident and hands-y. Friday nights seemed to be the worst for it.

Normally, her best friend, Alex, would have had her back, but he wasn't on the roster to work tonight. He would almost always comment on the whole thing, saying, "Friday nights were when the crazies came out".

Chris' apartment was only a fifteen-minute walk from where she worked in the Valley. Ten-minutes for those who knew the short-cuts like she did.

As soon as she arrived at her building, she was forced to climb three flights of stairs due to the broken elevator. Nobody knew why it was broken, it had just always been "OUT OF ORDER", ever since Chris first moved into her apartment a year ago.

One would think that multiple people, especially those on the upper levels, might have complained about the lift by now.

There was one tenant, in particular, that liked to complain about everything and anything. She seemed to make it her sole purpose in life to annoy the shit out of Chris.

After reaching her floor, Chris' eyes narrowed when she saw that tenant's evil minion; a long-haired cat, sitting in the hallway, casually grooming its bits like it owned the place. Its patchwork of multicolored fur, all red and brown, made the feline look feral.

It paused its grooming to eyeball Chris. Its mismatched eyes, one brown and one yellow, followed Chris as she walked past.

The cat stared daggers at Chris and hissed at her; as it did every day.

Chris' brows lowered and she mockingly hissed back as she continued up the hallway to the door of her apartment.

"What is your problem? Why do you hate cats?" Questioned a blonde woman with a thick Scottish accent.

Chris sighed throatily and loud as she felt around the bottomless pit of her faded-grey shoulder-bag for her keys. She didn't even have to look to know which of her horrid neighbors had come out of there cave to harass her.

"Oh, I don't hate cats, Wendy." Chris imitated her neighbor's accent. "It's you and that little fuckin' gremlin that I hate. Now fuck off."

In a huff, Wendy scooped up her cat and returned to the Hell-hole from whence she came.

Without the forced accent, Chris couldn't stop herself from adding one last thing for good measure.

"And keep that little demon off my damn balcony!" Chris shouted.

Having found her keys, she entered her apartment and locked the door behind her. Locking out all the crazies; that neighbour especially.

She left her bag and Doc Martins by the door and opted for a quick shower before heading to the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea.

Absolutely buggered from her shift, she went to lay in bed for a moment while she waited for the kettle to boil.

But just as she pulled back her sheets to lay down and rest, a loud, crashing bang startled her.

"What the...?"

Her head snapped to the noise and she was compelled by curiosity to move toward it. She thought that the sound must have come from the alleyway beside her apartment building, so she went to investigate.