Tag Archives: moon

Private Darkness

Private Darkness

Felicity prided herself on her unflappability, and yet she was still shocked, one night, to see the moon being eaten away slowly, as if a gargantuan turtle were nibbling on the lettuce leaf that was the lunar disc.

“The moon is disappearing!” she screamed.

“It looks the same to me,” a passerby said, glancing up. “Full moon tonight.”

No one else say it. They insisted the moon was full even as Felicity watched the last silver sliver disappear from view. She watched the stars go dark as God’s spilled inkbottle continued gobbling up the sky.

The next day, the sun did not rise. The streetlights went off at their normal time and Felicity groped her way to work, using her phone as a flashlight. People eyed her strangely as they strode by.

From then on, she lived in a world of darkness and time became only a number on her watch. She began only going out at night, when artificial lights were lit. One evening, she was walking to the store when she heard someone scream, “The moon! It’s disappearing!”

Felicity smiled. It may be the end of the world, but at least she wasn’t crazy.

“Anything is bearable, when one does not have to endure it alone.”   – R.W. Guy

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The Wish Gate – Visual Fiction

I am on the road at the moment, taking a trip for work and writing this post on my phone. So, please  forgive the occasional spelling mistake. I am in the coastal city of Samcheok, in Korea, across from their actual wish gate.

image

Jack had passed the Wish Gate earlier in the day. It was the sappy sort of tourist trap he usually avoided. Couples were lined up, waiting their turn to go stand under the arch, make a wish, and ring the bell. A photographer was making a killing selling portraits to the masses of young lovers. Jack stayed on the bus and got off instead at the beach.

Now, however, as he walked back to his hotel from the beach late at night, the gate had taken on a whole new aspect. He walked over to it, now standing alone and empty, abandoned by the lovers and profiteers. A sign to the left instructed him to step up, make a wish, and ring the bell. “What’s your biggest wish?” the sign inquired.

But Jack didn’t have a wish, not a big one, at least. He thought of the people who had been there during the day: those who wanted love and those who wanted money. He did not have much of either, but somehow to Jack they both seemed trite. Money flowed in and out; as permanent as the sea-soaked sands on the beach. Love–at least the infatuated, ephemeral kind the couples he had seen represented to him–was no comfort to him either. What else was there in life to dream of: fame, power, happiness?

The moon rose above the ocean and broke through the clouds right in the middle of the Wish Gate. To Jack, it had never looked so achingly beautiful. He suddenly had an urge to go there. Not the actual moon–that was more dead and barren than life on Earth–but the thing that the moon and all the unknown longing in his heart represented. He longed for that one Real Thing amid all the emptiness of life, as lovely and seemingly unattainable as the moon in its field of infinite nothing.

Jack stepped under the arch. “I wish to find a wish,” he said, and rang the bell.


Moon Cycle – Friday Fictioneers

copyright Anelephantcant

copyright Anelephantcant

Moon Cycle

No one ever told me just how big space is. I mean, I can see the moon every night. It’s right there. So why is it so hard to reach?

I had an epiphany one night after I’d taken some mysterious pills I found on the road: why not make a bicycle-powered spaceship? It’d save on rocket fuel and once you’re in zero-gee, it’s like going downhill the whole way.

I made it through the atmosphere, but now I’ve been pedaling for a week and the moon doesn’t look any bigger. Maybe I should stick it in a higher gear.


Old Moon, Young Moon

(Inspired by a comment thread with RoSy)

The Man on the Moon felt old. He had looked down on the Earth constantly for thousands of years and had witnessed all of human history. He had risen and set over countless nations and rulers, and the comings and goings of billions of human lives. And still he looked down, his weathered face more ancient by far than the oldest thing that moved or grew on the surface of the Earth.

The Boy on the Moon, obscured on the far side, felt young. He looked out into the vastness of space and laughed with delight. Compared with the shining stars and whirling galaxies that he saw, he was nothing more than a newborn baby, mere seconds out of its celestial womb.


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