Moons of Mystery, Sara's Moon, The Author

Sara’s Moon

Episode 3 of 500 Words

  • Genre: Urban Fantasy
  • Word Count: 508
  • Content Warning: N/A
  • Series: Moons of Mystery, Book One

Sara Sheppard should be dead.

She has no idea how she survived the brutal attack and wants nothing more than to get back to her normal, boring life. But something—someone—is after her and she fears it will return to finish what it started. Now she is faced with an impossible decision: live the rest of her short life in fear, or trust in a man defined by secrets. He appears to hold all the answers, yet those answers are even more unbelievable than her miraculous recovery.
Werewolves aren’t real.
Or at least they weren’t until she was bitten.

Chapter 1

Sweet Freedom

I opened my eyes to a macabre array of tubes and wires pulling unpleasantly at my arm and barely remembered not to scream. My jaw clenched in an attempt to keep the frustrated sound at bay lest it provoke another round of sedation. Yes, the wires pinched. Yes, my arm hurt something fierce. And yes, the pain in my leg bordered on mind numbing. But I was freaking done with laying around in a hospital bed.

 I shifted my gaze from the mottled appendage to the optimistic kittens decorating the door. The calendar was likely meant to inspire cheer and hope. While it was pleasant in a forced sort of way, all I cared about was the date written in large, green, dry erase marker.

Friday. Finally.

Excitement at my pending release surged through me, simultaneously waking me the rest of the way up and painfully drawing my attention to my restrictions. I scowled when I stretched my legs and only one bothered to comply, the other being currently wrapped in so much gauze that it could have belonged to a stuffed animal rather than a human.

I drew in a deep breath as I pushed past the fuzzy pain and forced the miserable thing to move. Along with the breath came the tantalizing smell of baked goods so strong I could practically taste the promised sugar. It wasn’t the allergy conscious hospital treat, but the gooey decadence of something with way too many calories.

Did someone bring real cookies?

I rolled carefully onto my back, mindful of the bandaged leg. The wrappings itched like crazy. The nurses, doctor, and anyone else I tried to ask about removing them, insisted they were necessary despite my argument to the contrary. The smell of cookies got stronger as I shifted to my other side in order to face the window and the likely source of the delicious smell.

Please be chocolate chip.

My pupils contracted painfully at the bright glare from the open curtains and I let out a strangled squeal of pain. By the time I managed to blink the world back into focus, a shadow fell over me obscuring the intense sunlight.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep, some friend I am.”

I squinted at the figure hovering above me and was rewarded with a glowing halo of red. It took a half second longer than it should have for my brain to finish making the connection.


She’s here. She’s like actually here.

I really am going home.

A quick look around revealed she’d brought a clean stack of clothes as well as a polka-dotted balloon, a rainbow bouquet of flowers, and a big teddy bear card.

How long has she been here?

She glanced down and her eyes widened. “Oh, sweetie, you’re awake!” Her natural southern accent added a twang to the words and helped soften the pitch. “I am now,” I mumbled as I carefully maneuvered to sit up. Charline did what she could to assist me, then gave me a fresh glass of water.

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