Your Summer Vacation

You were so excited when your parents announced you were moving for the summer. They had taken on temporary jobs at a resort in the mountains that you loved so much. With them as groundskeepers and tour guides, you would spend all summer in the woods and hills you loved so much.

When you got to the resort, you spent days running over and around everything. The other staff came to recognize you fast, and they always had a smile on their faces. They kept you out of trouble as best they could, but you were always getting where you shouldn’t. 

You learned the trails up into the hills the hikers would take like the back of your hand. You felt all the hidden glades, bungalows, streams, and waterfalls were yours more than the resorts. Everywhere you walked, you found beauty and joy.

The first three weeks of summer vacation pass. You were tanned by the sun, and growing like a weed from all the exercise. You felt so responsible and mature, being left to your own devices while your parents worked. Until they sat you down and told you what would happen next week.

“For the three days and nights of the full moon, you have to stay in your room. You can’t come out, no matter what,” Dad told you after they sat you down during dinner.

“There are things out there that could hurt you, that would want to hurt you,” Mom continued. 

You protest, of course. These woods are yours, and there isn’t a thing in them that would hurt you. You’re big and strong and can protect yourself. You know where you can hide and where you can run, and you can climb a tree better than any grown up. You know you will be safe without being locked up.

“It won’t be safe outside. You know we won’t do anything to hurt you. You’ll understand when you’re older,” they tell you, that terrible phrase that ends so many arguments. You tell them you are nearly ten, you are old, but they don’t listen.

The first night of the full moon comes and they lock your doors before the sun is even down. They lock your windows, closing them tight against the twilight light. Dad leaves a snack for you in there, just in case you get hungry at night. You fall asleep eventually, bored out of your mind.

The light of the moon through your secure window wakes you up. Dad’s snack smells good, so you get out of bed and eat. You stand at the window, listening to the sounds of the woods. They are different tonight, quieter. There is a new sound, above the celebration of the resort guests and the songs of nature. A howling, high and loud. It repeats again, and you fall asleep to the sounds of it.

The next night is the same, and the night after it. Dad slides meals in for you throughout the day, and you eat. You sleep when you are tired, curled up on the bed, but you want to do so much more. The howling is a mystery you need to solve. 

After those three days, caged in your room, you are left free to ramble again. The mood has changed some, but you can’t tell if it is your need to find the animal making that sound, or the adults around you. They seem cagier, more distant. Their smiles are slower to come when they see you. 

None of them know what the howling was. Your explorations don’t find any new tracks, no clue of the animal that made it. You even venture into the library, most of a morning’s walk from the resort. It is further than your parents want you to go, but if you can prove you are grown enough to walk to town, maybe they will let you be outside during the next full moon.

Nothing. You can find nothing about the howling animal. What it is, where it went, and if it is coming back. 

After the first two weeks, your interest wanes, and you get back to your ambling. It is more fun to just explore than to sit and do research. You are seeing less animals around, though. It is like something scared them off.

Again the moon starts to fill, and again your parents lock you in your room. You hear them passing outside, nervous and scared. You wish you could open the door and comfort them, let them know that you can help keep the family safe, but the door is locked. The howling is still there though and it reawakens your interest. On the third night, you promise to find what it is.

Your parents let you out and it is with renewed dedication that you set off on your search. You ask the adults around you, both visitors and staff, if they know of it, but they all grow cold and change the subject. You think they are scared of whatever it is, but you know the howls are lonely. They aren’t scary.

You stick with the investigation for three weeks this time, but your birthday is coming. You will be ten soon, and you are already so much taller, so much stronger than you were before. You know your parents will have to let you help them find the animal.

They don’t, though, even when you promise you won’t ask for anything else for your birthday. They give you a birdwatching book and a walking stick instead, and the resort staff throw a party with tons of ice cream. It's so fun and exciting you don’t even think of the creature again.

Until your father is locking you in your room again. This time, though, you are ready. You remembered how he sealed the windows and, while his back is turned, you are able to reach up on your tiptoes and open the lock. He doesn’t notice. He kisses your forehead and tucks you into bed, far before your normal bed time.

You sleep, because what else is there to do, but wake when the moon light falls on you again. The snack your father left is there, and you are so hungry. You’re growing fast, after all, now that you are ten. You eat the snack and turn to the window. 

It opens silently, and you are able to slip out. You fall to the ground outside, but your skill at climbing and exploring means you make no noise. The sound of your parents pacing inside the main room of the bungalow you are staying in doesn’t change, and you set off.

The howling is there tonight, distant. It is hard for you to know where it is coming from, so you explore. It isn’t long before you see the distant glimmer of a campfire. You approach, and see some of the staff of the hotel there. They are having a party, a small one, with the beers you aren’t supposed to know they take from the resort. They don’t see you as you approach through the brush.

The howling has died down now, but it can’t hurt to ask them what they know about it. You aren’t supposed to be out, but they have covered for you before. They think of you as a little mascot, and are willing to help with some of the tricks and plans you have had. 

You step forward out of the brush, and the first one around the fire sees you. Her eyes grow wide, terrified, and she screams. The rest turn to look at you and you see panic take over them. They scramble to flee, and it triggers something inside you. You chase them down, because you are just so hungry. You raise your face to the sky and hear it again.

And realize the only howling in those hills is your own.