Frank Edwards was a careful man. Careful and orderly. Qualities that were very useful as a prison guard. Nontheless, when he received a call late at night he was startled. Who would even call him at this ungodly time? Grumbling to himself he got up and picked up the handle.

Immediately as he picked up, he heard his boss' nasal voice.

"Edwards I need you here pronto. Something is going on with the prisoners, and I need you here to figure it out."

He took a breath but before Frank could retourt he was cut off again. "Also bring Micheael. You are neighbors yes?"

Frank cursed under his breath. It had been such a quiet evening. He put the phone on speaker and started massaging his temples. "What even happened?" he asked.

"No time to explain. But they are harming themselves and the nightshift isn't enough to do anything about it.", his boss pleaded.

"Alright, Alright I'll be there in ten. But thats a one time thing. Ain't nothing about that in my contract."

The boss mumbled something unintelligible in response, but Frank was already in motion. Just because he treasured his tranquil evenings didn't mean he couldn't swiftly adapt when circumstances demanded it. Grabbing his keys, he hopped into his aging Chevy and set off.

Frank pulled up to Michael's house, relieved to find him already waiting on the front lawn. His face was etched with a grave expression as he climbed into the car. "Any idea whats going on? Never heard the boss so animated."

Frank nodded. "No clue. Just that they are apparently hurting themselves. Must be serious if we're called for something like that".

"We'll see.", Micheals said and they fell silent.

They lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive to the prison. The city council had intentionally chosen a remote location for the facility, but it was still conveniently accessible from the city. Frank couldn't help but find the decision perplexing, although now he appreciated the efficiency it offered them.

As they exited the car, they were greeted with a completely distraught intern coming in their direction. Becky. Equally pretty as she was unsuited for the job. Too much heart. Frank thought so at least.

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Michaels waved at her. "What happened?", he yelled. Straight to the point as always.

As she came closer Frank got a better look at her.

Her makeup was smudged, clearly she'd been crying, and her shirt was stained with something that looked suspiciously like blood.

As Frank got distracted by her appearance Michaels was already interrogating her. "They were out of their cells. So I had to look after th.." She hiccuped. "Then I saw what they were doing."

She hid her head in Micheals chest, and had another crying fit. Frank and Michael exchanged concerned glances. There wasn't much they could get from her in this state. Frank looked at her. "We need to go in. Is it dangerous?"

At the question she found some of her composure and looked up. "No, no they can't get into staff area. But you need to help them." she said with a pleading look in her teary eyes.

"Are you good alone?" Micheals asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. The haunted expression returned to Becky's face, but she mustered a nod nevertheless. Michael gave her one last reassuring hug before he and Frank ventured into the building.

As they stepped inside, an oppressive atmosphere settled around them. The air seemed heavier, as if laden with unseen burdens. Strange flickers of light danced in places where illumination shouldn't exist, while the shadows appeared unnaturally elongated, casting an eerie aura. A pervasive red hue enveloped everything, creating an unsettling ambiance.

Moving with utmost caution, Frank and Michael navigated the labyrinthine corridors, their footsteps muffled to maintain an air of stealth. Their destination was the indoor panorama window, strategically positioned for the guards to oversee the common area. They reached the window and carefully peered through the area below. Frank's eyes widened, and a gasp escaped his lips.

Sprawled across the floor were dozens of prisoners in different states of gruesome injury. They were pale as ghosts and Frank spotted a man whose leg was cut off by something that looked almost like their food trays, sharpened to the extreme.

Overlooking the massacre was a giant bloody red moon, that was drawn in excruciating detail on the stark white wall beyond the prisoners. Below, the two guards could see three words, written in bold crimson letters.

Red Moon Rising.