That’s not the moon. Have you ever heard the moon speaking to you? Hushed whispers in rainy, ‘moon’lit nights? I’m sure you have. But you probably brushed it off as some teenagers messing around. Trust me, that isn’t the moon. Have you ever studied the moon closely? Looked at it? No, actually looked at it? If your unfortunate, you’ll be able to make out deep, red eyes and a pointed nose, a crooked smile on its yellowish white face. That isn’t the moon though. If you hear a faint whisper, calling your name outside of your window, the faint light of street lamps and the ‘moon’ illuminating your room. Don’t look outside, it might see you staring. It hates when people stare. This thing imitating the moon might look friendly, but trust me, it most certainly isn’t. I call it the mimic. It follows you around waiting for when you have your guard down, and then, in one bright, yellow-white flash, everything fades. I first saw it because I was walking with my friend Steve one night, we had a little too much to drink, I think it was about 2 am? Maybe earlier, I don’t know. Anyways, I looked up at the moon, it was so vivid yet so vague at the same time. Big, red eyes stared down at me, a long, pitch black hand beckoning for me to follow. I pointed it out; ‘Yo Steve- the moon looks kinda weird tonight..’ ‘Oh yeah, your right.. come on dude, it’s probably the alcohol..’ ‘Yeah, you’re probably right..’ and we just continued walking, but the image never left me mind. Those distinct, red eyes. You know when you wake up in the middle of the night, feeling like you’re being.. watched? But when you look outside your window, only the moonlight and street lamps are visible? You brush it off to being your imagination, no way someone was watching you, right..? Right..??
I mean, sure, those gory, horrible murders happened.. everywhere, but that would never happen to you? You’re just a normal person, right? No one knows why or when the mimic got here, or why it took the moons place. Maybe it thought itself more fit for the job, no one knows. Probably because anyone who has followed the mimic into the darkness has been found in the most vile, disgusting scenes, left to rot in their own blood. But don’t make the same mistake I did. Because I looked. I looked out of my half open window screen, scarlet red eyes and a crooked nose looking back at me, that twisted, cruel smile stayed. I yelled. I shut my windows and locked them, closing my blinds. I’m telling you now because I know what’s gonna happen to me. That’s not the moon. And I know, because I looked. And now it’s out to get me. Abnormally long, pitch black hands, sharp nails and red eyes begging me to follow them into the night, and indulging in the mystery of the mimic.