aalizaa

[aalizaa]

Hey this is my first post and I’m hoping to be a author so I’m working on a book called “the moon is beautiful isn’t it” and I hope y’all like it this is the introduction with chapter one

Warning: purging, cannibalism, cult

The Moon is Beautiful isn’t it?

Introduction

The orphanage, known as Eadaoin Orphanage, housed children from infancy to eighteen. But this was no ordinary orphanage—every child there was known to be not quite right, their minds fractured in ways most wouldn’t understand.

At age ten, the children were assigned their first mission: to kill. Their orders came from their caretaker, Alford , though the orphans knew him only as Sir Chamberlain. He ruled the orphanage with an iron grip, and among the children, favoritism was everything. The one who carried out their mission with the most skill and brutality became his favorite—a title coveted by all.

Most of the orphans had been taken from abusive or unstable homes, stolen away from misery only to be molded into something far darker.

To strip them of their past identities, each child was given a new last name. The girls were assigned Lain, Garza,, Raven, or Haku. The boys bore names like Banks, Hale, Yang, Williams, and Martinez.

In Eadaoin Orphanage, survival wasn’t just about staying alive—it was about proving you were useful.

Chapter one: the newcomer

Everyone gathered in the dining hall as Sir Chamberlain introduced a new orphan, Natasha. She had long black hair that framed her face, her brown monolid eyes dull with exhaustion. Her olive-toned skin, the color of oak sapwood. She wore the standard orphanage uniform, standing at about five feet tall with a balanced frame—not too thin, not too heavy.

Though she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks, no one seemed concerned. Everyone her age looked tired.

“Hello, I’m Natasha Lain. I’m fourteen years old. It’s nice to meet you all.”

Her voice carried a soft, melodic ring, and for a moment, the other orphans seemed intrigued.

Later, during freetime, a girl approached her with a friendly welcoming energy.

“Hey! I’m Janet Lain. Looks like we’re grouped together. Hope you’re settling in okay.”

Janet’s gothic style set her apart, her dark attire and sharp presence contrasting with the warmth in her voice. She had a reputation—brutal when necessary, yet the sweetest girl to those she cared about.

“Thank you, Janet. I’m having a good time so far,” Natasha replied.

“You know, if ‘Natasha’ feels too long, you can call me Sha or Tasha,” she added.

“Oh, thanks for telling me! If ‘Janet’ is too much, you can call me Jane.”

With that, Janet smiled and took Natasha under her wing, leading her toward the library, their voices fading into the hum of the orphanage.

With the boys

Roman Banks ran the whetstone along the edge of his hatchet, the rhythmic scraping filling the quiet.

“The new girl seems interesting,” Jaxon Williams remarked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Roman barely looked up. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, man.”

Jax tilted his head, smirking. “You never talk about girls, you know that? Starting to think you might be gay.”

Roman froze mid-sharpen. “Huh?! Bro, what?” He shot Jaxon an incredulous look. “I’m not gay.”

Jax shrugged, completely unfazed. “I dunno, man. You never check out the girls like the rest of us.”

Roman scoffed. “ I dated Natalie. And Valerie.”

Jax grinned. “Yeah, dated. Past tense. Maybe you just wanted a cover story.”

Roman groaned, rubbing his face. “Hop off.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’—”

Before Jax could push him further, his biological brother, Louis, walked in. “Jax, Toby—quit flirting and come help set up for dinner.”

Jax grinned wider. “See? Louis gets it.”

Roman just sighed, shaking his head as he set the hatchet down.

With everyone

Natasha stood in the kitchen, helping prepare food alongside the other 14- and 15-year-olds. Around her, children bustled—some setting tables, others carrying trays, cleaning, or cooking over steaming pots. It all looked like a normal orphanage dinner. At least, to the untrained eye.

When the meal was finally served, the younger children, those nine and under, ate without a second thought. Only the older ones knew the truth. The meat on their plates wasn’t from an animal.

“This orphanage is… weird,” Natasha thought, watching the others dig in. She had never been in an orphanage before, but even if she had, she knew this wasn’t normal.

Before anyone took a bite, they prayed. Not to Jesus. Not to Buddha. Their heads bowed in eerie unison, murmuring words of devotion—to Sir Chamberlain. Their god.

Natasha followed suit, folding her hands, but her mind buzzed. When the prayer ended, she picked up her fork and stabbed into what was supposed to be a sausage. The casing split open, and a thin trickle of crimson oozed onto her plate. She stared at it for a second, her imagination twisting reality into something darker.

Then, she took a bite.

Her stomach turned instantly. Her body screamed at her to spit it out, to purge it from her system, but she forced it down. Pinching her thigh beneath the table, she clenched her jaw and swallowed.

Once dinner ended, the routine continued. The children cleaned up, and at 9:30 p.m., they filed into their assigned rooms, grouped by last name.

Natasha shared a room with Janet, Natalie, Kate, and a few other girls. 15 beds in total. The others fell asleep quickly, the steady rhythm of their breathing filling the quiet space. But Natasha lay awake, her stomach churning.

She couldn’t keep it down.

Carefully, she slipped out of bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom. The moment she locked the stall door, she dropped to her knees. Sliding two fingers down her throat, she gagged, her body convulsing as she emptied her stomach into the toilet. The taste was bitter, metallic, unnatural. Tears pricked her eyes. Her hand, slick with saliva and remnants of her meal, trembled as she reached for the flush.

She washed her hands. Brushed her teeth. Splashed cold water on her face, trying to erase the evidence. But the burning in her throat lingered.

As she turned to leave, she bumped straight into Sir Chamberlain.

“Child, aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” His voice was calm but held an edge of authority.

Natasha stiffened. “Oh, um… yes, sir. I just needed to use the bathroom. Please forgive me.”

Sir Chamberlain studied her for a moment, then offered a thin smile. “No need for apologies, Natasha. In fact, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Natasha hesitated. “Of course, sir.”

“Come with me to my office.”

She followed him down the dimly lit corridor, her pulse quickening. Inside his office, the air was thick with the scent of old books and something faintly metallic. He gestured for her to sit.

“There’s something about the orphanage you haven’t been told yet,” he said smoothly. “It’s time for your first mission.”

Natasha sat up straighter. “What is it, sir?”

Sir Chamberlain slid a photograph across the desk. A girl with black hair, hazel eyes, and light skin stared up at her.

“Her name is Danielle Stone. I need you to kill her.”

Natasha picked up the photo, studying the girl’s face. She looked… normal. Just a regular kid.

“…Okay, sir.”

Sir Chamberlain nodded approvingly and handed her two items—a machete and a lighter. “I expect you back within four hours. She lives in town, near the school you burned when I found you.”

Natasha gripped the weapons, her fingers tightening around the machete’s handle.

“In your closet, you’ll find dark clothes. Wear them.”

“Yes, sir.”

She stood, leaving the office. Once back in her room, she opened her closet and grabbed a black hoodie, gray cargo pants, and a pair of worn-out Converse. Pulling the hood over her head, she adjusted the fit of the machete in her hand.

Then, without another word, she slipped out of the orphanage and into the night.

The forest surrounding Eadaoin Orphanage stretched for miles, swallowing everything in darkness. She moved carefully, every step crunching against twigs and leaves beneath her feet.

Crunch… crunch… crunch…

She kept her ears sharp, listening for any sign of movement. The weight of the machete in her hand felt heavier than before.

But there was no turning back now…