Unseen Moon is a collection of five short stories. My favorite is “December”, because it's creepy yet heartbreaking at the same time. Kind of sweet, in a way. It's a beautifully rotten story. (Does that make sense? Because I can't find a better way to describe it.) The following, however, is a review of a different story from the collection: “Ghosts of Sinagtala”.
I was on a bus, stuck in traffic because someone decided it was a good idea to jump in front of a train. I was already late for work. Didn't really care.
10 in the morning, on a bus with no air conditioning, my face practically scrunched up against a policeman's gun. He was standing beside my seat, gun in the holster next to my head.
I ignored him, ignored the people crowding the bus. Kept on reading.
I'm not sure how hot it actually was. Just know this: this is the hottest summer I can remember. The sun is beating down on metal, people are smushed against one another. It was a very, very hot morning.
If you really think about it, there's nothing entirely new in Ghosts of Sinagtala. It progresses like any other horror story; you might even think it a paean to horror movies given the presence of notable genre tropes.
So why would ice fill my insides right after reading the story?
Perhaps it's true. It's not just the story. It's the words. In that regard, there's no question that Eliza Victoria is a master. So good, in fact, that at some point after reading the story – with the chill still making its way through my veins – I started wondering if the story itself was haunted.
Maybe there's something in the words, something that made it real. That after reading it I now had to deal with the ghosts of Sinagtala. That I would turn around and find them standing behind me, the cop with the gun completely unaware that they were right there, staring at me.
Because I read their story.
Get a copy. Read the book. Find your ghosts.