Remembering The Moon

Remembering The Moon [+ favourites]

I started writing this morning, it may be the beginning of something, I have an idea where it could go but thought I would share it with you guys...

The clearest and brightest night that ever existed will be emblazoned in my memory until time dissapears into infinity and space becomes the playground of our future selves - mankind or whatever we will become when we have destroyed this beautiful planet and probably most of the life on it as well.

That night I saw the universe through another's eyes, an innocent soul whose whole being was intent on finding me. In one night my eyes would see a miracle and a vision of such angelic purity that my heart would never again be able to contain its earthly beat.

As I was sitting in the garden after a hard day's labour on my new patio, cigarette in one hand, lager inthe other, my eyes drifted to the clear, dark sky. Stars seemed to be blinking into existence just for me, saying, "tonight is a new era, a time of new beginnings and clarity!"

My breath once drawn in seemed to refuse to exhale and my eyes focused on a small group of stars that appeared to draw me deep into their beauty, their mystery.

I drank in the intoxicating air of the south coast as it drifted lazily across the two rows of houses separating me from the sea.

Eastbourne pier would be alive with activity tonight, but I could not bare the thought of the noisy club music and drunken revelors or the gaudy, blinking slot machines stealing my hard earned wages. I could not even bare to smell the greasy kebab shops and fish and chips that pulled in the punters on a summer's night like this. Not even a pleasant evening's walk along the promenade with its multicoloured row of pepetual christmas like lights could tease me from my spot.

I considered myself a hardworking man, not a day sick in ten years! I payed my council tax, I lived life to the full, but something was missing. Something that meant that this night was calling me to stay home alone in the garden, gazing at the starlit night with a feeling growing by the second that something was going to happen.

I scanned the skies but returned to the group of stars that again compelled me to stare - why could I not pull my eyes away?

A movement, very slight, very subtle pulled my attention to the left. My eyes automatically followed the unconscious cue and tried to focus in on the slight distorted pattern of stars.
Was something flying towards me? My heart started to quicken its beat and my arm hairs started to prickle, a feeling as if a slight electric charge in the air sharpened my senses and I smelled...What was that? Some sort of perfume or just the smell of the sea air that was arousing me? And then a sound, very quiet, in the distance, a sigh and a weeping on the wind...

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""
[  Edited by Decius at   ]

I sat like that for a while longer, my breath held in anticipation of something, anything to break my reverie and remind me of real life. I continued staring into the gloom, trying to focus on what? A shimmering in the air? A hope of some answer to the question of meaning in my simple, benign existence?

I let out a slow, warm breath, the smoke from my cigarette curled out as if escaping an ancient dragon's wrinkled nostrils. The smoke for a second restricted my view and as I squinted to see through the smoky haze, a sudden snap of a branch at the end of my 180 foot garden made me whip my head around.

Now it was my ears straining to catch another sound. The smoke seemed to annoy me now, it was in my way, polluting the purity of the moment. I dropped the cigarette, stamping it out and absently kicked it into the newly dug bed, then I furiously tried to wave away the smoke eventually giving up and carefully stepping through this eerie curtain separating real life in an Eastbourne garden and whatever was lying in wait at the end of the lawn, past the untended vegetable patch, I ventured cautiously towards the rustling that was now prickling my curiosity, but I felt like a cat whose heckles were raised - the fight or flight responses were waiting to kick in.

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

I had floated like this on my back for such a long time that I could not remember when my journey had started. It seemed as if I had always been out here alone, drifting, floating, swimming through a void of black, cold, soundless nothingness, with only my thoughts to keep me company and vague, distant memories of a home and parents teaching me to value my life and preparing me for a journey, this journey in fact.

I turned on to my front and felt the coolness caress my body. There was no point in trying to make my way quicker, speed did not matter, it was a journey that had only one destination for me and now I think back on that moment, I was like a homing pigeon. Some secret force guided me and direction had no meaning but no boundaries either. Sometimes I would go left, sometimes right, but with no real point of reference, only blackness all around in every direction – it was an in-built genetic navigation system that pulled me, guided me, compelled me to go wherever it was I had to go. You may call it fate, but whatever cosmic plan it was, it led me to him, and I knew he was waiting for me too.

Suddenly I started moving faster, pulled by an invisible, intangible cord, light started to pound my senses and it was as if I was being born again. I screamed as I suddenly seemed to lose all buoyancy and I was now falling and tumbling, my arms and legs flaying in all directions as I tried to gain back some control over my own movements.

And then I did regain the control, I was now soaring over an unknown, alien landscape. Faster and faster I flew, below me trees, seas, cities and mountains whizzed past as my physical body followed its magnetic pull towards its absolute perfect other half, my soul mate who had called me by my every being from the other side of the universe. My senses tingled, my journey was over, I had found him, but he didn’t even know I existed.

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

The rustling faded and a very slight whimpering, like an injured puppy came from the farthest corner of the garden. Behind the greenhouse was something that every nerve in my body was telling me I was meant to find, but still I hesitated. The noise stopped and I could literally hear nothing now but my heart beating loudly in my chest and my own swallowing as I gulped away this stupid primal fear and my rasping smoker’s breath quickened as the stress of the unknown reached critical. My hands were shaking with fear and the sweat was pouring off me now and dripping off my nose, but I was far too scared to wipe it away or clear my eyes which were now far too blurry to get a good look.

I stood hovering over the bush trying to get up the courage to peer behind it in case some wild animal jumped out at me, but I knew in my heart that this was no wild animal. The bush rustled again and I leapt back instinctually, then mentally kicking myself for being a complete coward, I wiped the sweat from my eyes, stepped carefully forward and parted the bush.

What I saw was no wild animal, but a very slight and bloody girl. Her long dark hair was tangled in the bush and her arm and face were caked in blood which had also helped to tangle her hair even more into a matted mess of hair, blood and twigs making her look like some fairytale tree nymph out of a bedtime story I remembered from childhood.

But her face, even through the blood was just so beautiful, I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a little sigh in awe, wonder, but also in something else…recognition!

(hope you are enjoying it so far and are intrigued enough to keep reading)

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

please don't stop, we await your next installment...

Yeah. Im really liking it. You have a great way of keeping the reader in suspense.

I do not know why you said you felt intimidated in your other post on writing?

You're really good.

"When I was a child I flew! Then as an adult- I watched others soar."

I'm glad you are enjoying it but I'm afraid that's all I've got for the moment - I'll try and write some more when the kids give me some time - I'd do it tonight but I'm watching Most Haunted and my hubby's coming home from a business trip, he's only home tomorrow and then he's off to Poland so you might have to wait till Tuesday!!!

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

The strange but also bizarrely familiar girl cowered in the dirt, naked and trembling. She looked up at me through wide, terrified eyes. Why was she here in my garden? What trauma had befallen her?

I tried to smile reassuringly and slowly and as unthreatening as I could, I held out my hand to help her up, she was shivering uncontrollably now. She pointed to her hair and I could see it really was quite entangled in the shrubbery. How on Earth had she got like this?

I took off my shirt and gently laid it around her slight and delicate shoulders and as my hand lightly brushed her trembling flesh an intense feeling shot through my whole body, like an electric shock. I whipped my hand away as if I had been burnt and for some reason after that strange connection between us she smiled and her trembling stopped and she was suddenly much calmer, even peaceful.

She looked deep into my eyes; it was as if we had always known each other. Finally I remembered I had a voice,
“Who are you?” I croaked but she didn’t answer and started fumbling with her matted hair. I helped her work it loose as best I could, mostly it got torn but she didn’t make a fuss and finally she was free of the bush. I helped her carefully to her feet and when our hands met I thought I would faint at the intensity of the sudden strange feelings I had for her. Why was she so familiar? Who was she and how did she come to be lying naked and bleeding in my garden?

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

Wow! I am intrigued now and hope you realize I thought about who this child could be all through supper, lol.

Good work, and keep it coming...

The poor girl was clearly in a sever state of shock and as I started to lead her back to the house I saw her gaze drift upwards and I followed her line of vision, she seemed enthralled by the moon.

All of a sudden her legs gave way revealing just how weak she was so I scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way into the house. And all the while I was thinking, what’s happened to her? Do I call the police, an ambulance, what do I do?

By the time I got to the house she was sound asleep, so I laid her on the sofa and covered her with a throw, finally collapsing in the armchair and all I could do was stare at her.
She seemed to be fairly young, early twenties, maybe twenty-two, twenty-three. She was deathly pale, almost ghostly white as if she never saw the sun. Her hair was as black as space and this contrast with her pale skin left a stunning impression. Her eyes although closed now had been as blue as a bright, clear sunny sky and even though she was dirty and bloody from the cut on her head, I could tell she had no blemishes on her skin, no spots, moles, freckles, bruises, scratches, scars or anything that I could tell, she could have been moulded from a single piece of pure white alabaster! It was clear that she was something extremely special. A strange thought crossed my mind – ‘Snow White was sleeping on my sofa!’

I had intended to phone the police, but sitting there in that chair, gazing at the young goddess in front of me, I simply drifted off into a peaceful slumber and when I awoke she was gone.

I jumped out of the chair, my eyes scanning the room quickly, the throw was gone and a few muddy footsteps led to the hallway. I searched the house from top to bottom, but all I discovered was that she had taken some clothes from my wardrobe and some food from the fridge. I couldn’t believe my bad luck; she hadn’t even left a contact number!
An angel had dropped from the sky, I had held her briefly in my arms and I had lost her. What a fool! I could only hope and pray that I would see her again.

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

I've decided to go for it and see if i can keep going, who knows how long it may be. Anyway I'm going to call it 'Remembering the Moon' and the first chapter will probably be something like 'Mysterious Moments' or something like that.

OK lets see if I can write chapter two. See you later.

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

CHAPTER TWO – Moonbeams and Memories

It was a Sunday and I wondered around the house like a lost soul tidying up with a strange compelling urge to clean up my act! Maybe the messy house of a bachelor frightened women away.

It had been exactly one week since my mysterious meeting with the girl in my garden and the moon still haunted me when I thought of the way she had looked at it. At work I had tried to concentrate, but everything I did seemed to lead to thoughts of her.

After lunch I sat in the garden to enjoy the rare sunshine, pleased that my garden was starting to look like a garden and not a building site. My eyes kept drifting to the bush in the far corner and as I closed my eyes, her pale face and the moon almost melted into one memory in my mind’s eye and the cool moonbeams disappeared as I opened my eyes on the warm rays of the sun kissing my face.

I shook my head to clear the vision and caught sight of a strange flash of light from that same bush as the sunlight hit something. I almost leapt out of my chair, running at full pelt down the garden, I tried to keep my eyes on the exact spot but as I reached the bush a cloud covered the sun and the flashing stopped.

I moved in to closely inspect the area she had been caught up in and found a few strands of her hair twisted amongst the twigs. Was it just me, or did they appear much thicker than strands of hair should be? I unwound them from the spiky bush and held them up to the light to examine them. No! I shook my head to myself, they couldn’t be human hair, her hair, they must be something else, maybe some kind of thread.

I put the strands in my pocket, that couldn’t have been what had flashed in the sun, so I slowly scanned around the area of the foliage, pushing back the thick greenery to look amongst the beds.

I was just about to give up the search when the cloud broke and a sunbeam shot past my shoulder and I saw something glittering in its path out of the corner of my eye. I turned to the source and found a strange object caught between two rocks – a feather! Not your common or garden bird’s feather, a long, white almost swan-like feather but glittering with a silver sheen. That was what the sunlight was catching? How on Earth had it got here? And what sort of bird in heaven’s name could bare such splendid plumage? It would have to be a huge beast of a swan and it almost appeared to be sewn through with a silver thread!

I held the feather up to the sun to get a clearer look; it was absolutely perfect. It was the sort of feather you would expect an angel to adorn. No she couldn’t be! Was she? That was just impossible, my imagination running wild because of her beauty; she couldn’t have been a real, live angel, but what other explanation?

I took the feather back to the house and fumbled around in the kitchen draw for a sandwich bag. Carefully I put the feather and the hair or cotton or whatever it was in the bag and sealed it, my hands shaking as I found a tote bag to put it in. Tomorrow I would take them to be examined.

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

Luckily my brother was in forensics and promised to take a look at my strange find and I knew that he would keep it a secret between us. We were as close as brothers could get and I would trust him with my very life.

He had of course looked at me very suspiciously and interrogated me endlessly as to where the specimens had come from, but I kept shtoom and told him I would tell all once the results were revealed to me. He looked me deep in the eye, laid one hand on my shoulder and said,
“Little brother, you can trust me. But come on, just between us for curiosity’s sake where did you get them?” I smiled at him in a knowing way, with just the slightest twinkle in my eye,
“I promise I’ll tell you the whole story once you’ve examined them properly ok? I’m not sure I know myself yet, but I have an idea and I want to be sure, so just do your stuff bro’ and then we’ll see.”

He shrugged his acceptance of the curious situation and took the bag from me and held it up to the light. The silver sheen on the feather flashed and he took a startled step back in astonishment,
“Whoa! That’s some feather!” I nodded,
“It sure is, but what sort of a bird is it from, that’s what I want to know?”
He shook his head slowly and tuttted,
“Well it can only be a swan’s feather, but I’ve never seen one with silver in it like this, and the shape and size just isn’t right, is it?” I shook my head now,
“No! That’s exactly why I want you to do a proper testing on it. Look I’ve gotta run, I’m late for work, but ring me as soon as you know something will you?”

I left my brother’s office in a bit of a daze, thoughts of angels and starry nights buzzing around my brain and just as I started towards the car, the heaven’s opened and there was a downpour. By the time I got to work I was soaked to the skin from the walk from the car park and the storm was well and truly in full throttle, thunder, lightening, the whole kit and caboodle!

I stood in the reception dripping and cold now because I hadn’t brought a jacket and just as my boss passed me I sneezed, followed by a rather wheezy cough. She took one look at the state of me and laughed,
“Go home Michael. You look and sound terrible; you’re no good to anyone in that state. Have a couple of days to get rid of that cold and then come back ready to work ok?”
I sneezed again and nodded then miserably turned around and walked back out into the rain and back to my car. By the time I got home I was sneezing uncontrollably and I was shivering in my soggy clothes, my hand shook as I put the key in the door and I was too full of cold to notice the feather on my doorstep as I dragged myself up the stairs, peeled my soggy clothes off and jumped in the shower.

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

I vaguely remember stumbling out of the shower, drying myself half-heartedly and collapsing onto my bed, rolling and wrapping myself in the comfy, cool duvet that did little to cool the burning fever I was starting to feel, nor did it muffle the effects of the trembling that had over taken my body. And then I was asleep and a new strangeness to my life stepped in to join the mystery of the garden visit.

I lay there asleep in my bed, aware that I was asleep and doubly aware that I was dreaming. I knew I was in my bed and my consciousness was drifting somewhere else. I felt it (my consciousness) start to drift upwards out of my bed and out of my body and then I was looking at my body asleep in my bed, shivering and sweating with the fever of a flu that had completely taken hold now, and as I looked at myself there asleep in the bed I wondered about what a weird dream or experience this was. I looked around the room, it all appeared as it did when I was awake or in my body or whatever the hell I wasn’t at the moment.

Then I realized that I felt oddly detached from my body and its sensations, I couldn’t feel the effects of the flu, I wasn’t hot or cold or thirsty or in need of the loo or anything, I just was…

And then I started to float upwards towards the ceiling, I looked out of the window and all of a sudden I was outside and I could feel the cool air somehow but not the rain that was still falling.

It was dull and overcast, quite dark for the time of day actually and the seagulls were screaming as usual, but today, now, I was in another state of awareness, they didn’t grate on the senses as they usually did with their constant squealing like demented banshees in the skies. Now they appeared quite a part of the natural order of things.

I drifted higher above the streets and I could see the sea not a stone’s throw away and as I seemed to want to go that way, I just did. And there I was over the beach, the pier in the distance, the promenade busy with people despite the naff weather. People were still walking their dogs, joggers were still jogging, the rain and sweat mixing and dripping off their noses, and there were even a few buggies with rain covers as desperate mothers or nannies power walked the little darlings to get them to have their regimented mid-morning naps.

I floated lazily along the front and I came to Treasure Island with its fun-sized sand pit Island surrounded by the pretend paddling pool sea that I had fun childhood memories of splashing about in. I remember as a small child playing pirates on the pirate ship that lay shipwrecked in the centre of the island, climbing up the rigging and walking make-believe foes along the plank and digging for treasure in the sand pit. What a shame it wasn’t there anymore. Now its all ball pools and indoor monkey-puzzles that cost the parents an arm and a leg and still seem to do nothing to burn off the youths’ over active energies. Long gone are the days of hours playing in the streets, disappearing to the parks unattended and only returning filthy and happy for dinner or Doctor Who on Saturday evening.

The rain splashed down in the unused pool filling it with little round rings expanding out and interacting and interfering with each other (much like people in day to day life) making strange patterns on the pool’s surface. The sand that inevitably found itself moved from the sandpit island into the water was sloshed around by the rain leaving a dirty mess that would have to be cleaned before the children could paddle in it again.

The patterns the raindrops made in the pool fascinated me and I lingered a while longer almost hypnotised by the sound of the rain hitting the pool and the ever expanding splashing circles.

Something caught my eye then, a flash in the sky over the sea. The rain started to calm to a delicate drizzle and I felt compelled to fly out over the sea, which was pretty choppy in the wind. The waves crashing over the breakers gave me a new focus to concentrate my disjointed senses on.

I looked to my left and right trying to gauge where the best waves were crashing and I caught sight of the alternative fitness centre where my sister-in-law did a yoga class. The waves were exploding over the breakers spewing up enormous frothy sprays, crashing over onto the promenade and almost reaching the windows of the building. I saw a dog walker caught unawares run past too late, soaked to the skin from the spray. I moved my body-less consciousness in close for a better view.

It was then that a flood of childhood memories came cascading into my mind just like the crashing waves, an eerie feeling of de ja vu. I had experienced this type of dream before, often as a boy, but they were night time visions, of calm, starry, moonlit nights spent flying back and forth over the beach and ocean and the town of my youth.

And memories of a voice travelling on the moonbeams, calling me, wishing to be with me. The moon suddenly expanded in my mind’s eye as the ultimate memory of youthful innocence and teenage fantasies of a girl at the other end of the moonbeams calling me, telling me she was coming and we would be a whole again. Twin flames, soul mates separated at the Dawn of time to be reunited once more.

I snapped back to the present and saw the flashing again like the sun catching raindrops on a window in its glare. What was it? A seagull in the distance? No it wasn’t the right shape, it was too slender, the wings too massive a span. Could it be her, my angel, her silvery wings reflecting in the sun as the rain clouds started to part?
I willed myself to get closer to her but as I started to move in her direction I was suddenly aware of being pulled back at speed to my house and my sleeping body. I must be waking…no this can’t be right, its not fair, I need to catch her, to see her, to speak to her, find out who she is!

The beach and the experience melted as I found my way back into the house and then my body. I lay there, darkness behind my eyelids and I felt like my body was suddenly very alien to me. I couldn’t move, I was paralysed, my chest, heavy as if a great weight was pushing down on top of it.

And finally the feeling of helplessness lifted and I was fully me again, just a man full of the flu, head pounding, nose running, throat burning and aches every which way. I wanted to get up and write down the dream before it faded for good, but I just didn’t have the energy and drifted back off to sleep, this time to just a black nothingness that would leave no lasting memory or impression.

""Each child holds the world in an open hand to mould it into any shape they choose.""

I particularly enjoy the way you weave what seem to be fragments of your personal experience in together with sheer supernatural fantasy.