She picks them up with a mixture of astonishment and confusion. As she cautiously moves toward the trunk, her shoe meets the familiar jingle of her missing keys.
With the help of a heavy-duty flashlight as her only weapon against the unknown creature, she exits the car, hand raised above her head, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Unbeknownst to her, the figure has closed the distance and slowly drags its rangy hand across her window. Having dropped her phone during the panic, she reaches around under the car seat in an attempt to find it. The car doors begin to unlock without her permission and the frightened lady desperately tries to keep them locked. She looks around frantically to see where the figure went but finds that, much like her keys, the figure has mysteriously disappeared. The woman gets into her car and locks the doors while attempting to call for help. This time, illuminated by street lamp, she can see that the figure stands tall in a brown trench coat, sleeves filled by long limbs that end in hands with white, spindly fingers, tipped with sharp black claws. After looking around her feet and under her car to no avail, she sees that the figure from earlier has followed her into the empty lot. When she bends down to get them, she finds that they have disappeared without a trace. It is there, in true horror trope fashion, that she drops her keys before she is able to fully enter the car. Despite not being able to see any real details or features, she is concerned nonetheless by its menacing demeanor.She hastens her pace as she enters the parking lot and heads toward the safety of her vehicle. She is stopped in her tracks when she sees a gangly silhouette standing across the street. The Moonlight Man, directed by Danny Donahue, takes this feeling of paranoia and visualizes it in under three minutes.Ī woman is walking down a desolate street at night, a look of idle worry on her face. Most of us have had to make the quick-paced walk to our car after a late shift at work, scared to turn around and find someone else's footsteps matching our own. Silence builds into an orchestra, and a simple shadow becomes a hellish beast.
In the quiet of night, a distance of mere feet becomes miles.
Our imaginations have a way of playing the most devious of tricks on us when we are at our most vulnerable.