She bathed alone in the light of the moon, basking in its glow. The power it gave her was not something that you or I would ever be able to explain, or to understand. This power enlivened her, invigorated her, made her strong. It made her fearless, able to do what she craved every time the moon was at its fullest and brightest.
Water droplets fell from her skin, and as she tilted her head back to fully engage, a roar emitted from her. It was a sound only the moon could hear, in its own way, and it responded with a similar sound that could only be heard by her ears. We should be relieved - you and I - that those sounds are not for us, as they would petrify us to such extremes that we would likely not survive. Those sounds are only to be heard by the lady of the moon.
She and the moon had a special agreement, unspoken, unbreakable, and forever. It shone the way for her, communicated with her in ways we would never understand. As the moon governed the tides, it also influenced many other things; appetites involving hunger, thirst, cravings for guts and the dividing of human flesh, for the flowing of blood and the slicing through tendons, for the screams of agony and misery.
The lady of the moon: she needed these things, and she made these things and gave them to the moon. It has been happening for much longer than our lifetime. As there is good, there must also be bad. As there is kindness, there is evil. For all the light the moon provides for the earth via its reflection of the sun, much darkness must be traded. So much darkness.
The woman ran wild during the white fullness, as the moon shifted things and altered and tweaked her path and circumstances, to allow her to happen. She suddenly appeared in a child's bedroom without a sound, because the moon's power allowed for windows to unlock and open without a sound, and for her to cover short distances without moving. The child didn't even have time to scream in his bed before the woman was upon him, tearing flesh to pieces without so much as a weapon, except... her hands were now as sharp as the sharpest blades, her teeth as vicious and large as a shark's... and as quickly as she came, she was gone, and onto the next victim.
The next victim was a man who knew how to fight. He was healthy, strong, army trained. He knew how to brace, how to defend, how to use the items around him as weapons. It was ironic how in this situation, he was as helpless as the child before him, because when the woman appeared in his house, he found he could not muster up the slightest defensive movement, or even begin to take the smallest attacking action to save his own life, or protect his own home. She was upon him seemingly before he could really think about what was happening, and the blade-like hands and shark-like teeth were tearing him to pieces in the one place in the world where he felt safe, where he had never before had cause to feel alarmed, or to feel that nature and the moon were conspiring against him.
Thirty victims would have blood spilt and be no longer recognisable, by the time the full moon was at its end. One for every day of the month until the next illumination occurred. Thirty piles of disfigured flesh. Thirty sacrifices meeting the moon's cravings - all carried out by the lady of the moon.
So the next time you marvel at the full moon out of your bedroom window, remember my tale, and you may wish to check that your doors are locked and bolted, even though it will not help you any. Because if the lady of the moon decides to come for you, you can bet that she will succeed, as she has the moon on her side…