achoo, I guess

A fanfare of wolves announced the rising moon. And in its overwhelming light, all bathed by it shuddered with unease. The moon’s eyes flickered over the valley, lips curling in deep satisfaction at the sight of sudden scattering and panic. No introduction was needed, everyone knew not to look it in the eyes…lest they wanted to face its judgemental wrath.

The foul light grinned artfully. “Cowards, the lot of you. I’ve hardly gotten a moment to deliver you a proper fright!”

Mocking laughter filled the night sky as the specters fled behind headstones and fence posts. But just as it had started up, the moon’s laughter waned quickly. Not exclusively from boredom, but something had caught its breath.

“Oh, it’s far too early in the night for this to start up again,” the moon scoffed and scrunched its wicked face into a scowl. Yes, the moon’s weakness, it’s increasingly-testy nose. If its reign of terror were to begin, so too must begin the sneezes.

It would be a lie to say the moon’s hitches were unpredictable. Everything in this world was bound to rhythmic frequencies—and that was where the moon drew its haunting magic from in the first place. Rhythm was power, and a force that every soul was subservient to.

“Hehh— hehH? hEHhk’sSHHhw!!” The first of doubtlessly many, measured into merciless monotony. Two hitches, one sneeze, evenly spaced to around eighty-six beats per minute. The sour moon blinked lingering tears gathered at the corners of its eyes. Reprieve was short, its nose was already twitchily priming for another: “Hih- hih! hHik’shh!!” That, a deviation: an anticipated eighth-note falling just shy of the fourth beat.

This was how the night was to go…fittish sneezes in clusters that didn’t dare to let up once they began. But with it came eerie energy, taking the form of swarming bats and swirling clouds.

“Oh, I simply don’t understand it,” growled the moon through its teeth. “Sneezing—why must it be sneezing? Surely laughter couldn’t have been where my magic is scyphoned from?”

Every vampire has their stake, every werewolf, their silver.

“Sneezing is not the stuff of night terrors, frankly.”

Perhaps the moon wasn’t putting the effort in.

“Hey!”

“I, for one, agree. I think the moon has lost its touch!”

A perplexed pause permeated the starry night. The voice belonged to a lonely ghost, standing in the open valley with arms crossed over their chest. Their head was turned away, and the moon took great offense to it.

“Wh..? Ahem, oh my, brave spirit, are we? Why part from your shivering friends behind the wooden planks?”

“They don’t see through your tricks like I do,” they answered simply, shrugging. “But soon, they will join me in troves, I bet!”

The seething moon’s eyes narrowed, and a crescent smile tore past its lips. “And why do you refuse to meet my gaze? Terror still claims you, doesn’t it? And so long as it does, I have power over you.”

“Not quite, moon. I only fear that your cruel machinations have grown less cruel and more…boring.”

The moon burned red with embarrassment. Its pupils trembled with stifled rage. “Snff!! What are you insinuating?”

“You’re hardly fearsome anymore. At least not to me. Your sneezes are far too predictable, I could evade your sight with my eyes closed if I so wished.”

There was a ticklish pause, “hHEH-kSHHhw!!” Lightning clawed across the partly cloudy sky, and the very ground trembled.

“Bless you.”

“A blessing?!” The highest offense of all, “who do you take me for?! To be blessed by a common specter, as if I were a siHh—hiH-!! Ikk’sshh!”

“Bless you again, a what?”

“Ik’sshw!! Hik’shh— hiH- hih! Ik’SSHh!!”

The ghost tapped their boot in the dead grass impatiently. “Take your time! Bless you.”

“D’uh- snFfle!! Oh forget it, rest assured I’d sneeze you away if I could…” but the moon couldn’t, of course. All it could do was hang helplessly in the night sky, a sniffling mess of itself. “You aren’t helping—who’s side are you on?! Pelting me from afar with your pathetic words!!”

I’m merely here to tell a riveting story. Pay my words no heed.

A defeated sigh. “Too predictable, you say…is that a challenge?”

“If you wish it to be, it is. I think you’ve been holding back.”

“C…caught, I suppose, this tickle’s been…pestering me a good moment, I’m afraid…snf!!”

“No, not like that, I mean holding back your skill! Switch it up a bit, if you’re looking to get a fright out of someone. Surely you haven’t forgotten that the element of surprise is a friend of yours?”

The pale orb pondered these words with great rapt. “…right. Where’s Werewolf?”

He had never been more eager to hear his name. A triumphant howl made his presence known from the nearby manor's courtyard, where a dark-furred canine shredded a power chord on a sleek electric guitar. Behind him, a handful of ghouls and beasts—skeleton on drums, zombie on keys, the works.

“Yes, yes,” the moon piped them down with a roll of its eyes. “Something in five, can you handle that?”

A big thumbs up answered, and a riff in 5/4 began. The rest of the band was quick to hop onto it, pushing 175 beats per minute.

Take heed, sneaky spirit! You’re in the realm of complex meter now, and simple sneeze patterns won’t fit here.

“Won’t this be a twilight trial for you..! HhHhope you’re a quick learner, I feel another fit coming on…”

5/4 was broken into 2 and 3 beats respectively—both too fast and too slow all at once. It worked perfectly for more dramatic build ups, sudden sneezes, polyrhythmic hitches, and other dastardly tricks that would have a common ghost melting under the pressure. Not our protagonist, however; they had been a musician in their living days, and the intensity was an appreciated spike in difficulty.

The moon had surprising control over its own sneezes. It was no easy task to sync your hitches to such a heart-pounding tempo. 

“HhH- hh- hh-! ht- aASShhew!! hHEHh! Hh…hEK’sschww!! Ik’SSHh!!” As the werewolf clawed up the fretboard with a diabolical riff. Yet the ghost held true, patiently waiting for the right windows to evade the moon’s ghoulish gaze.

Suddenly, a triplet: “hah-hHAt’iishhew!!” That was uncalled for, that was unrehearsed!! The poor spirit staggered into an exposed space, letting out a frightful yelp. A single miscalculation sent the skies into thunderous torment. So close to the end, too…

“Oh, shame, there goes that perfect stride~!” The moon scorned. “Goodness me, I’ve frightened you, still as stone. Unless you are stone, and my magic’s gotten stronger.”

One would imagine the sky would get brighter the bigger the moon is. Yet here, as it loomed closer, the stars flickered from the sky like a dying power grid. Inky black bled into the horizon, leaving only a thin halo of indigo around the moon’s wicked face.

No one could stare at those terrible eyes without recoiling in painful embarrassment and humiliation. It felt like dropping a cake at a birthday, or falling on your face in the snow. Perhaps fighting off a sneeze during a public speech…

Yes, the eyes of judgement were as red as they were dastardly. The ghost fell victim to it, and trembled with terror.

“Hhah, you—you got me there, I’ll admit,” the spirit shielded their little eyes, visibly embarrassed. The moon looked them over, lips pinched in thought.

Then, a melodramatic groan. “Ohh, fie, fie! There’s no satisfaction in this. I have to come clean: I lost myself around the end bit, my hayfever got the better of me. That last sneeze was hardly within the whims of my control.”

“Didn’t know the moon had good sportsmanship…bless you—if it’s any consolation, everything else was a pleasant surprise..!”

“Was it?” Sniffled the moon, before cracking a smirk. “Quite the interesting individual…bold, willing to push for a proper scare. I like your tenacity for terror, spirit.”

“Appreciated…don’t listen to the storyteller, I think your sneezes are plenty frightening.”

A strange means of bonding, but oh well. You can’t win them all.