Tales by moonlight

o whispers under his dying breath. My grandmother Nana would always end her tales as if she had witnessed them firsthand. N

countryside, usually so alive with the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs, seemed muted tonight

ay, her dark eyes twinkling as the firelight danced acros

tor, my everything-was gone, leaving me in a world that felt suddenly too harsh and too c

ction. Nana's tales by moonlight had been my solace, a fleeting escape into

tillness of the night. "Sarah! Have y

t would only fuel her anger, but my gr

porch, her shadow stretching long and thin unde

n," I mumbled, my v

ay have spoiled you, but that's over now. You live

g for the kitchen. The sight of the unwashed pots and pans felt like another mountain I didn't have the strength to climb, but I set to work anyway. Na

, Clara handed me a pair of worn-out shoes and said, "You'll be walki

re blistered, and my arms ached from carrying the heavy basket of groceries. Clara barely looked up f

om her purse. "I know it was you," she hissed, he

ything," I said,

the face. My cheek burned, but I refused t

n tending to the chickens when she decided I hadn't worked fast enough. "Maybe a n

e comfort, but I stared at them anyway, imagining Nana's voice. "You carry it within

th. One morning, while I was sweepi

shrieked, pointing at

"This? Nana gave

snapped, stomping her

, my grip tightening on

as he entered the room, his presence a rare and f

e my ribbon and w

"That's not true! Nana gave it

Sarah, just give her the ribbon. Le

but his raised h

bbon," he said.

triumphantly as she skipped away. My father turned back to me briefly. "Try

about the ribbon; it was about how little my voice seemed to matter. Nana had always

ll behind the house, the place where Nana and I had spent countless evenings under the stars. The wind w

breaking. "What do I do now? H

For a moment, I could almost feel her hand on my shoulder, steadying me

say. "The strength to endure, to survive

jolted me awake. "Get up! Thes

carried the basket of laundry to the stream, I let my thoughts wander. I thought o

tugged at my lips as a thought took root. If Nana believed I had strength, then maybe-jus

f grief and Clara's cruelty pressed down on me

rm light over the stream, I whispered to t

st chamber was illuminated by faint, glimmering reflections from a pool fed by the cascading water. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged t

led with the humid air as he moved deeper into the cavern. He paused as the faint rustle of fabric sliced through the cacophony. F

e asked, a teasing smile e

ion softening. "And what if it were a friend

ge closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. The tension melted away as their l

ed on her arm. "How far along is the plan?

pecting an intruder. "It's progressing. The pieces are falling into place

pressed, his brow furrowing. "Has

reassured him. "We'

n't help but worry about Sarah. Clara's cruelty is weari

ftened. "How is

silient, like her mother. Clara's trying to break

won't suspect anything. She thinks she has compl

rge asked, his voice shar

own pays for what they've done to our family, Clara will follo

ing hers. "For Sarah. For our family.

ouder as if echoing their resolve. In the dim light of the cave, the lovers stood together, bo

he basket when a shadow fell over me. Startled, I turned to see a ta