April 22, 2025
By Desmond Kale

I just got out after serving 18 months.
Breaking and entering, disturbing the peace, trespassing—the works.

But here’s the thing: I never stole a damn thing. Not a TV, not a wallet, not even a snack.
I just… showed up.

Wearing a werewolf costume.
Full moon or not, I’d find a remote house, middle of nowhere, 2 or 3 in the morning. Slip in quiet. Find a shadowy spot. And wait.

I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody—I swear on that. I just wanted to see it. That look on their faces when they woke up, sensed something off, and finally locked eyes with me, standing there in the dark. That heartbeat of silence before the scream? Pure electricity.

I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it started as a thrill. Maybe it became something else. Maybe I just liked reminding people that the world still has some weirdness left in it.

They called me the “Moonlight Creep.” Local papers ran wild with it. Made me sound way more dangerous than I ever was. But yeah, fair enough—I broke into people’s homes in a Halloween costume. I deserved the time.

Now I’m out. No more costumes, no more trespassing. I’ve got a job at a car wash and a one-bedroom apartment that smells like Pine-Sol and freezer burn. I’m just trying to live quiet.

But sometimes—late at night—I still think about those eyes staring back at me. The fear. The disbelief. That strange, unspoken moment when a person realizes something impossible is standing in their hallway.

And a little part of me misses it.