Full Moon Week With Corvina

Horror stories

They say the full moon is a mirror. That it reflects not just light, but truth—unforgiving, wild, and strange.

This week, the moon rises swollen and bright over the crooked trees and rustling fields, casting long shadows where secrets hide. And if you listen—really listen—you might hear them whisper.

The veil may not be thin, but something else is. Sanity. Restraint. Politeness. All the things we button up so neatly come undone under that cold lunar glow.

This is the week of strange dreams. Of sleepwalking souls and dogs howling for no reason you can name. The week where the witchlight flickers just past the tree line, and even the skeptics feel something watching.

Spells cast now are soaked in moonlight, tinged with a power that doesn’t ask for permission.

They will bloom or bite. Sometimes both.

If you’re wise, you’ll write your intentions in ink and salt, speak only what you mean, and never—never—look directly into a mirror after midnight.

And if something knocks on your door after dark, don’t answer. Not this week. Not under this moon.

Because once, long ago, someone did. And they were never quite themselves again.

Happy full moon week, darling souls.

Light your candles. Lock your doors. And watch the sky.