The Midnight Child

The small town of Thornhill, nestled in the foothills of a vast mountain range, was known for its serenity. By day, the narrow streets were lined with neat rows of cottages, each with a garden bursting with flowers that bloomed in the short, crisp summer months. By night, it became something else silent and still, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees and the distant howl of a wolf.

Mara Sterling had grown accustomed to the quiet. As the only nurse working the graveyard shift at Thornhill Hospital, she was alone in a world of echoes. The old building creaked in the dead of night, and the soft hum of machinery was the only constant. But tonight, something was different. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

She pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, trying to ignore the prickle at the back of her neck. The faint glow from the streetlamps outside cast long shadows through the window, stretching across the sterile white walls of the emergency room. The night had fallen colder than usual, and Mara sighed, glancing at the clock. It was just past midnight. Her shift would end in a few hours, but she still had several rounds to make.

Her footsteps echoed through the deserted halls as she walked to check on the lone patient in Room 3 an elderly man who had come in earlier with a mild fever. He had been a regular visitor to the hospital, a casualty of age and the harsh elements of mountain life. Mara often found herself spending her shifts in quiet conversation with him, listening to his stories about the town’s past, stories that sometimes seemed more like legend than fact.

As she entered the room, she smiled at the old man who was now asleep in his bed, his breathing shallow but steady. Mara adjusted his blankets and then turned to leave, but as she did, a faint sound caught her attention. It was a soft, almost inaudible rustling like footsteps on the gravel outside. She froze, listening. It wasn’t the wind, and it certainly wasn’t the usual stray animals that wandered around the outskirts of the hospital.

Curious, she made her way to the window. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow across the town, bathing the streets in an ethereal light. She scanned the area below, where the hospital’s parking lot met the edge of the woods. Her eyes narrowed when she saw him standing just outside the gate, half-hidden in the shadows.

A man. Tall, with dark hair that seemed to catch the light in strange ways. He wore a long coat, his posture rigid and still, as if he were waiting for something.

Mara’s heart skipped a beat. She had never seen him before. Thornhill was a small town, and everyone knew everyone else. But this man... He was unfamiliar, and something about him made her uneasy. She leaned closer to the window, her breath fogging up the glass.

He turned suddenly, as though sensing her presence. Their eyes met, and Mara felt a chill run through her, though it wasn’t the cold air outside. There was something in his gaze something ancient and unsettling that made her pull back from the window in surprise. Her hand brushed against the sill, and for a moment, she thought she might have imagined it. But when she looked again, he was still there, staring at her.

She felt a strange compulsion to go outside, to approach him. But she resisted. It was the middle of the night, and she had a job to do. She turned away from the window and shook her head, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched.

The hours dragged on, but Mara couldn’t forget the man outside. Every time she checked the window, he was gone, but the unease remained. By the time the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, she had almost convinced herself that it had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination. After all, the mind played tricks in the dark.

But as she left the hospital later that morning, heading toward her car in the half-light, she saw him again.

This time, he was standing across the street, just at the edge of the woods. His coat billowed in the wind, and his eyes those dark, knowing eyes were fixed on her. The moment she saw him, he took a step forward, and then another, his gaze never wavering.

Mara’s breath caught in her throat. It was as though the world around her had slowed to a crawl. Her heart pounded in her chest as she instinctively took a step back, but before she could turn and flee, he spoke.

“You need to stay inside during the full moon,” he said, his voice low and gravelly yet oddly gentle. There was an edge of urgency in his tone that made her stop, her mind struggling to process his words.

She blinked, confusion flooding her. “What? Who what do you mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked past her, as though searching the horizon, his face tense. Then, with a final glance at her, he turned and melted into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

Mara stood frozen for a moment, staring at the empty street. Had she heard him, right? Stay inside during the full moon? Why would he say that? And who was he?