Lunesha, funny how that word just rolls off the tongue. It took twenty-five years for me to find out what that word really meant or that it even existed. Lunesha is a type of creature formed from black and white magic that was formed by rogue priests, both Christian and Pagan, several centuries ago. They wanted to make the unfaithful pay for their dirty sins, so they casted a spell or a type of curse, which made this creature. There were two creatures created, one male and one female. The male became rabid and killed all the priests, except one. Before, the creature could kill the last priest, who was Pagan; the female killed the male Lunesha, setting the priest free. The male Lunesha could handle the power it was handed to him, but the female felt compassion and knew exactly what her power was meant for. The priest did two things for his new creation; he made her take on the looks of a human and made sure each one that born upon the earth was female.

    I know of this so well, because I am Lunesha. I am Rose Alamont and this is my story. It is not meant for weak stomached. A Lunesha is anything but ladylike, so throw all what you might think is morally correct of the unfaithful away. I have to warn you this is not going to pretty.

It awoke within me in my thirties about a year ago.  My bastards of a husband, Avery Alamont, and my backstabbing best friend at the time, Amy Tracer, were having an affair. I had my suspicions for a long time, you see us Lunesha can smell unfaithfulness a mile away. We just cannot transform until a super full moon and we must catch them in the act. Our senses, craving for red meat and an odd ringing in the ears, becomes heightened when we are about to catch them in the act.

   I will begin this story with my first memory. Why? Because it was on a super full moon and I did not know it at the time, but it was the first time I found out about our family secret. Distorted voices echoed within the cranium deep of my mind, while tears flowed upon my young cheeks, as I stared out the window, trying to block out my world, which was crumbling before me.  The window was excessively large, at least to a young child of three it was. The moonlit sky poured in the window, like milk in a glass. A warm summer breeze blew in, fluttering the large white curtains.

I looked back at my journal, written when I was only twelve. This was shortly after I found out I was adopted because my mother killed my father, for reasons that are not quite clear to me just yet. I had a sneaky suspicion that my dream was actually a repressed memory of the trauma.  For years my adopted family forced me to seek therapy, but it never seemed to help. I always felt empty and lost.

   My mother tried contacting me once, from the mental institution. She said it was a matter of life or death. She wanted to talk to me, but something inside me couldn’t bring me to trust her. She probably wanted to talk about the details of the murder and why she did it. The papers of the time said it was out of jealous rage and that she butchered him. Clearly, she had to be insane. She hoped insanity didn’t run in the family.

   I wanted to forgive and forget and move on. My past often times haunted me. At that time all I had was my husband, Avery and my best friend Amy. I will never forget our last day together for the rest of my life, which will be a very long time.

   I knew I had trust issues to work out, back then. Many times, as I said before, I could swear that Avery and Amy were having an affair. There had been whispers and gossip all around Plattsburgh, a city in upstate New York, about the two of them having lunches together and being seen all over town alone together.  I tried to stay away from the gossip, but sometimes I swore I could smell Amy on Avery. Amy’s cheap $5 Charlie perfume was easy to sniff. I use to like Amy’s perfume, but not since I could smell it almost every night on my husband. The scent of it could fill the room in a matter of minutes, leaving the room to smell like a cheap French whore. That is what Amy smelled like. A cheap French whore. Sometimes Avery smelled of it as well. I wonder now, if it was the perfume or my Lunesha senses?

   I knew it wasn’t nice to think of my husband and my best friend in this way. I tried to come up with better reasons for the gossip and for Amy’s perfume all over Avery, more times than I could count, but I couldn’t. Tonight was the night I was going to find out. For tonight is the festival of the Super Moon. The Super Moon happens when the moon is closest to the earth. It does not have a specific time it happens, but when it does it draws many powers. The festival was a Wiccan gathering, celebrated by many Pagan branches. The three of us always felt a bond with the Pagans, especially me.

   It was almost time to go. I was hanging out in my pajamas all day, doing nothing but watching television, in my red-covered bed. I had to get motivated. I heard a knock on my bedroom door. Before I could get out of bed, the white door swung open. It was Amy.

   “Rose, we are going to be late, why are you not dressed yet?” 

   “Sorry Amy. I’m a little slow this evening Just not motivated, I guess.”       

   “Well, why didn’t you answer the front door?  I have been ringing the belle for you, to let me in for a half hour.”

   “Sorry, I didn’t even hear you. Oh wait, you know what? Avery made all the bedrooms soundproof and the basement too, so he and his buddies can practice here, without disturbing anybody.”

   “He’s still rocking it out? After, all of these years I thought he would give it up.”

   “No, he’s convinced one day he is going to be a famous musician.”

   They both laughed.

   “Well, grab a cup of Joe and let’s go.”

   “Come on, you know I don’t drink that crap.”

   “Well grab a diet cola, whatever, just hurry and get dressed before we are late for the festival.”

   “Ok, wait for me downstairs, alright.”

   I quickly took a notice what Amy was wearing to decide what I was going to wear. Amy wore a small, plain, white shirt that barely covered her large breasts, with a black leather jacket, which had a large pair of red cherries on the back. She wore that with tight black skinny jeans with black, heeled, zippered up, boots.  Her brown hair was down and free, flowing against her tan skin, which brought out her brown eyes. Her lips painted red, along with her nails. Amy had perfect eyes, so didn’t need to wear glasses or contacts. Her eye makeup looked perfect with her outfit; deep eyeliner and dark eye shadow. What drove men to her I guess would be her beautiful face and slender body? Her body had just the right about of curves, like an hourglass. She had catlike eyes, arched eyebrows, and the most perfect high cheek bones. What man wouldn’t want her? Amy left the room and waited for me downstairs, leaving the door a little cracked.

   The truth was I was up for hours that day. My dream/flashback always freaked me out. Why did I always have this dream near the time of my period? It was creepy. I didn’t dare tell anyone about this dream, not even Amy or Avery. Both of them would probably think I was being paranoid or something.

   Amy lived about two blocks away. I would either walk with her back to mine and Avery’s house or I would have Avery pick her up. Lately, I did not like Avery picking her up, because I suspected the two of them were sleeping together, even though I fought these feelings every step of the way they nagged at me bitterly.