![]() ![]() It illuminated the night’s sky, like the gas lights in our streets it made everything visible in the harrowing darkness. It came down in an attempt to make me feel shame and regret, now confident and strong enough to call to me directly, furious that I did not answer. The moon was greater than before it did not appear a small figure in the night’s sky it was angry because I hadn’t answered it. Mocking me for my research and ideas as they often had.īut it was night, the sky was black and vacuous. I felt as though they were talking about me. Trying to ignore anyone beneath their social status. My senses were fleeting and I could not make out a single voice, as they had all merged into one the women walked with school children and made their chat with other women, laughing and snickering. As to what they talked about? I did not know. Child on pony-and-cart of course but also men who went about their day, smoking pipe with tobacco, reading the papers and chatting with other men. She seemed to have been woken already as she was absent from our bed.īut it wasn’t just the odd child or two the street was filled with people. I rushed to window in my fever state to give them a lashing, as my wife and I needed our sleep. The children outside must have been nothing more than an undisciplined bunch. I assumed that I had woken from a fever dream – a dream that I could not remember, and when I tried, it only gave me head pain and a cold spine. I sprung from my bed like a grasshopper only to notice that it was still night time. Laughing uncontrollably like I hoped my child would one day. I awoke to the regular sounds of young children being pushed by pony-and-cart through the street. I went to bed knowing that I would one day own the moon. But it was fine, for the moon could not see me there. I crept through and snuck under the silk sheets, feeling hot and pressed under them. She slept even with the burns of a thousand suns on her face (acquired when the bakery she used to work in caught fire). The House of the Seven Gables, which was a strong talk in Morham even with the men, lay at her bedside, almost finished. I went to my bedroom where my wife slept soundly. But I would study this moon, I would overcome its desire and find out what it wanted. ![]() Rushing past the Morham University and into my warm, two-story house where even the moon could not penetrate. Except for a tavern that would always have wench and degenerate stumble through its broken doors only to laugh and fall in their own filth. I would stare into the thick, tall, thrusting fields of food and flower only to look away quickly, and walk almost to the point of running. Entering through into a field of barley and sunflowers, I walked swiftly as I tried to avoid the moon’s ego. I passed through groves that would shroud me from the moon temporarily until I could move to the next grove and through the next orgy of trees that would hide my guilt and my duty. A weird infant baby blue were the crying eyes of this celestial being. Constantly, it stared at with me bulbous eyes, blue the iris seemed to be. The whistles of the wind protected me as I tried to avoid the moon’s guilty gaze, like a scolding mother or a desperate friend. The trees that encased me didn’t move as I scurried back. I laughed to myself that she had left me for the sun, and then moved on my way back to the sleeping city of Morham. The moon seemed to yearn for a mother – but it was time to go. My ears produced a high squeal like the cry of a newborn baby. It would sway from one side to another, eventually getting heavier and heavier. I knew it was something greater.Īs I had stared at this moon, my eyes unblinking and my face unturning, I had realized my head started to feel like feathers. Scholars and astronomers would often speak of how the moon was nothing more than a chunk of dirt and rock in the sky, but that was a lie. Forcing me to observe the rough smoothness of the sphere. The more I resisted its fiendish pull, the angrier it would get, and then use its force to pull me back to stare at it. The way it wanted me, like a nagging childhood friend asking to play on a hot summer’s day.īut the moon would often cry, become angry and pull at me even harder. The way the moon spoke to me, the way the moon smiled, cried, and laughed with me. I had the overwhelming desire to retch and turn away, but I couldn’t. I never enjoyed the idea of doing so, and even as I looked into the shining sickle within the sky… I was disgusted. I must say, it is entrancing to look up at it. I know why it wants me, but I am not sure if I should go. The way it shines upon me with its many faces… it’s just trying to lure me into its malicious void of white fog. ![]()
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