_Prague, 1949._

_If you reside anywhere near Prague, you probably heard about the Moon Killer. His case was known to have resurfaced the theory of Lunar effect, a theorised phenomenon of correlation between the lunar cycle and physiological changes in humans, some version leaning towards violent tendencies. This hypothesis has been widely disproved in the psychiatric community, since there is little statistical correlation between violence and moon phase for the analysed data. However, in this particular instance, the moon has indeed affected a violent mind, by the simple act of inspiration. _- Dr. Bořivoj Dvořák.

Journal of Vladislav Hrubý

**New moon (1945)**

I was born under a statue of _Mokosha_, bathed by moonlight, abandoned amidst mud. My very first action was a heresy to the goddess of nature: The baby hands clutched around the grass, ripping it from its home as if I was pulling the goddess’ hair itself.

The Jewish farmer that found the infant thought by a fraction of second that the creature shrieking before him was a golem, as the infamous one from _Gustav Meyrink_. He thought for sure, it had a purpose: to protect the Jews, as it had done in the stories. The farmer raised him to fight, and to obey his every command. He would turn into the perfect soldier, that was unavoidable. His fate had been sealed.

I will never forget the day of my first murder. It was 9th of May of 1945, the day when the _Red Army_ freed Prague from the German troops. For every partisan of the _Prague Offensive_ I had been a hero, for the ones I had killed were, in their view, less than humans. Feral animals invading their territory. But for me, this was the day when I was really born, in a circle of dead bodies and obscured by the enemy’s blood. I finally found my _raison d’être_: carnage.

This act had further proven what my father thought of me: I was the golem who protected the Jews. Thought I couldn’t see myself as a protector (for what I had done, I did solemnly for my own pleasure, never for regarding human life), the idea of being a strong violent creature had pleased me deeply.

**Waxing crescent**

I knew I had to plan if I wished to keep my little recreation unknown to the authorities, and ensure it would be as pleasant as I remembered. At least I did not had to worry about my father’s response to it, for he had passed during the war.

One idea haunted the core of my mind: The magnificent _Orloj_ of Prague: a huge astronomical clock that provides time, date, positions of the sun, of the moon, of the earth and zodiacal information. Whenever I would walk in Old Town Square, its presence would bring mystical and whimsical stories to my heart. I was once more a children trying to catch the sight of a _Domovoi_ or a _Vodník_ -both of which I now believe were mere tales invented to prevent children from being naked or swimming during cold winter nights.

There is a famous superstition stating that the neglect and malfunction of the _Orloj_ would lead to dire consequences for Prague. Yet now, in shambles of war, it was reduced to a circular pattern amidst debris. Perhaps I am the terrible consequence.

Oh, if only I could be as terrifying and transcendental as those creatures were! If only I could make people believe that I was much more than a human, an ineffable force of nature, guided by the moon… And as the moonlight illuminated the moon shaped pointer of the clock, I was enabriated by the thought of honouring the moon with blood. Yes, that was my holy purpose, the ultimate form of art and respect! Today, I shall commit murder once more. However, this time it is premeditated, it is art.

I placed the corpse inside the clock scrambles, in a perfect waxing crescent position. It was a love letter for moon itself.

**First Quarter**

My first steps ensuring my new pastime we’re choosing the method and the victim. Even such trivial planning would rouse me from my sleep in feverish eagerness and disquietude. At this point, I must confess, ethical schisms created conflicts in my mind. If my action was to be considered art, I ought to use a beautiful victim, but by doing so I would condemn beauty to disintegrate into rot. If I were to turn the ugliness into something deemed beautiful, wouldn’t I be committing yet another heresy before the moon?

My religious views might seem rather odd for a country composed largely of Christian folks. My guess is that some unconscious anti-catholic mentality had corrupted my surroundings and affected me as result, blaming it for the erasure of Slavic paganism. I must make it clear however, that as unintuitive as it may be, religion was never a motive for my actions. If anything, it would only be used as an artistic theme for the art of murdering. Don’t think for a moment that paganism is vile, for the vileness comes from my own character.

Having that in mind, you should be aware of how delightful it is for a predator to carefully choose its prey. It had not only to show up at the right location (which I shall eventually reveal) but also to be gifted with the utmost beauty. It was a matter of waiting and observing, before such a creature blessed my eyes.

She appeared like a thunder, her voice loud amidst the upcoming monsoon: “Raincoats for sale!”. Her body moved with the same fluidity of the water, as if she were dancing for my gaze alone. It had to be her, I thought as I entered the store and locked the door, thankful for the boisterous rain covering her screams. I left her body near _Charles University_, in a circular well. Her corpse occupied half of it, as the moon in the sky.

**Waxing gibbous **

The act I just performed had been as glorious as I had imagined. But I could not shake the feeling that there was one missing factor. After hours pondering, its nature became evident: The woman was lovely, but my bond to her never existed. It was no different than taking the life of cattle. For it to be meaningful, I had to first supply my victim with meaning.

Therefore is of utmost importance in this situation that I select my victims and create a bond with at least one of them. The designated one shall be handpicked amongst the others to by my _magnum opus_.

**Full Moon**

Some gems caught my attention, one of them corresponding to my definition of the perfect woman. She had an hourglass figure that was harmonious with post-war fashion and had that motherly charm one would see in a _Vlasta_ magazine cover.

I was leaving the _Klementinum Library_ when I found her, working as a baker. It was with zealous enthusiasm that I made her acquaintance, after savouring the best _kolaches_ of my life. Ever since, I have been nurturing the idea of her dismemberment, delighted with the possibilities.

Countless nights I spent at her window, watching the restful sleep. Meanwhile, my murderous impulse was subsided by other four victims. The four murders were almost ritualistic: their bodies were assembled in a circular manner, using poles to make them stand and uniting their hands together as if they had died dancing, similar to the painting _A Dance to the Music of Time by Poussin_.

My showpiece was astonishingly remarkable, and I have never been so proud. The full moon finally rose between the circle, as if conjured by their deaths.

**Waning gibbous**

When the spectacle was finally discovered, a photographer took its chance and tried to publish the image at a local newspaper. However, police interference made sure my art never met public eyes. All of my killings were aligned to moon phases and extremely artistically oriented. Given that in my last endeavour I had proceeded in the full moon, gossip spread about a werewolf and a curfew was established. A reward was offered for my capture, and people began to theorise about my methods and psyche.

Doctor Dvořák was the first psychiatrist to correctly debate the matter of my persona and motivations. “We are likely dealing with someone who has survived the war and reclaims control over chaos through ritualised killing. The murderer must hold a cosmic-mythological worldview which gives coherence to his world. It is possibly a case of psychosis of a obsessive mind”.

I never thought of myself as a obsessive person, except when it came to **that** woman. Our affinity had grown with the passing of time, and by then I had had the opportunity to observe her bathing - unbeknownst to her.

**Last Quarter**

When we first met she was enamoured with a local man. It was only after catching him cheating that their relationship subsided. The cheating itself hadn’t occured naturally, but as a consequence of my actions. I merely paid a courtesan to approach him at the right moment, smooching before his reaction. After that, an argument broke out and she was finally open to my advances.

Without his presence, her behaviour became more flirtatious and dally. For the first time, I would be able to take the victim to the exact location I had envisioned. But her time is still yet to come.

For the last quarter, the bodies I collected were arranged inside _St. Vitus Cathedral, _together in a circular mass. One half of the circle was kept untouched, with the most pleasing beauties on this side. Whereas the other half had its skin removed, their blood and muscles painting it red. I glared at a distance for a while, in awe, before a man entered. But before he would notice the performance, I was far beyond his reach.

**Waning crescent **

My time is short, I am sure of it. It is well known that I attack by night, mostly at culturally significant locations, and soon enough they will able to determine the next location. But there is one factor at my side: I invited the one woman for a walk at _Charles Bridge_ tonight. Thankfully our mutual attraction allowed me to dissuade her from obeying the curfew.

For her body, only the most angelical representation would suffice. Timing was of the utmost importance, for it required the corpse to be found exactly at the moment when the moon was right above the middle of the bridge. To ensure it would happen without interruptions, I sent an anonymous tip to Dr. Dvořák, changing the period so he would arrive after I was done.

**Dr. Bořivoj Dvořák’s memorandum**

_Last night I received a secretive clue regarding the The Moon killer. I had been studying his mind for a while and was expecting him to act soon. It was clear from his artistic views that he had some academic literacy, specially since both the local university and the library were used as a stage for his activities._

_I knew too, that he would use one of the architectural elements of Prague for the action to take place. There were few left, so when a postcard of Charles Bridge appeared at my door with a moon drawing, I connected the dots right away. The hour of the event was written in it, but I couldn’t help but notice that the position of the moon drawing was off for such hour. I decided to arrive earlier at the location, despite the risk._

_When I arrived at the bridge, the woman was barely warm. She was at the top of the bridge’s tower, her hands reaching foward, holding the moon -In a perfect visual alignment- as a divine offering. _

_The murderer tried to escape by jumping to the water, but was unfortunate in its efforts. A ferry passed by the river at that exact moment and his neck crashed with deserved brutality. _