I'm finding that I want to write more and this is just something I came up with while looking at the moon last night. It was rather brilliant. The following is fiction. And practice.
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It seemed amazing how the midnight sky was illuminated by the full moon. Staring, I could almost see the craters that pocked the surface of the celestial satellite. Pulling back my focus, I was able to see the lunar halos that shone almost as brightly as the moon itself. Some believed that the halos meant that bad weather was approaching. Fortunately, there was not a cloud in the sky to really substantiate the myth.
I continued to stare. Something about the light just caught my attention. How many others were looking at the moon tonight? How many were melancholy, content or even happy right now? How many people were thinking about their lives while gazing upwards? How many wanted to die?
It's just a moon, a planetary body in tow slowly pulling away from the Earth. It affects our world in many ways. Some believe it affects even our moods and personalities. But, still...
The light of the moon bathed the park and surrounding areas. Shadows danced as the breeze made the tree branches sway and the bushes tremble. I walked along the empty park path which aligned itself next to a steep drop to the ocean below. The only hindrance being a small, unimposing wall. It was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the crashing waves below.
I walked with no real purpose. There were no sights to see, there were no people to watch and there were no interests to be had. In the distance, the light from a historical light house swept the sky. I had a destination, though, and I was coming upon it quickly.
I continued to look up at the moon. Its light was strangely comforting. Looking closer at it, it looked as though it had its own countries, its own continents, it’s own cycle of life. It’s known that there are no inhabitants on the moon. But, what if there were? Would they be looking back up into the sky at Earth, wondering about the same things I was wondering about? Did the Earth’s rays shine brightly on the moon? Would they be melancholy, happy, indifferent?
I reached the point in the park where I needed to be. Benches, picnic tables and barbecue stations surrounded me. The smell of wet grass permeated the air. The small wall was easily scalable and soon I was looking over the precipice to the crashing waves below. The soft light mixed with the shadows amongst the rock formations, fooling my mind into thinking that imaginary people walked the rocky shores below. I could picture their gazes upon me, their beck and call for me to join them. The silence of the night also played tricks on my hearing. I could almost hear their voices telling me it was okay.
I sat at the edge, tired and broken. Cheeks wet from the tears that had fallen down my face. I couldn’t stop looking at the moon. Its glow was soothing, its presence comforting. I was not alone in the world as the moon was my connection with others. They were receiving the gift of its comfort, bathing in its light and finding its surface features, too. There were others out there as tired and broken as me. But they weren’t sitting on the edge of oblivion. They were on their porches, at their bedroom windows, in their backyards. And soon, they would be safe in their beds, dreaming of the next day, the next moon. They would be dreaming of their futures. The only thing I dream of is not dreaming anymore.
I inched nearer to the edge. Rocks that were once at my feet were now on their way to the surface below. Why am I here? What drove me to this point? Was this it? Fear of living was now conflicting with the fear of dying. Did the others before me feel the same? Did they have second thoughts? Did they even think? I wish I knew. Their spirits didn’t comfort or console me. I was left to deal with my fate alone. I just hope I choose the right path and that it leads me to where I have to be. Until then, I will gaze at the moon, knowing I’m not alone in that.
I continued to stare. Something about the light just caught my attention. How many others were looking at the moon tonight? How many were melancholy, content or even happy right now? How many people were thinking about their lives while gazing upwards? How many wanted to die?
It's just a moon, a planetary body in tow slowly pulling away from the Earth. It affects our world in many ways. Some believe it affects even our moods and personalities. But, still...
The light of the moon bathed the park and surrounding areas. Shadows danced as the breeze made the tree branches sway and the bushes tremble. I walked along the empty park path which aligned itself next to a steep drop to the ocean below. The only hindrance being a small, unimposing wall. It was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the crashing waves below.
I walked with no real purpose. There were no sights to see, there were no people to watch and there were no interests to be had. In the distance, the light from a historical light house swept the sky. I had a destination, though, and I was coming upon it quickly.
I continued to look up at the moon. Its light was strangely comforting. Looking closer at it, it looked as though it had its own countries, its own continents, it’s own cycle of life. It’s known that there are no inhabitants on the moon. But, what if there were? Would they be looking back up into the sky at Earth, wondering about the same things I was wondering about? Did the Earth’s rays shine brightly on the moon? Would they be melancholy, happy, indifferent?
I reached the point in the park where I needed to be. Benches, picnic tables and barbecue stations surrounded me. The smell of wet grass permeated the air. The small wall was easily scalable and soon I was looking over the precipice to the crashing waves below. The soft light mixed with the shadows amongst the rock formations, fooling my mind into thinking that imaginary people walked the rocky shores below. I could picture their gazes upon me, their beck and call for me to join them. The silence of the night also played tricks on my hearing. I could almost hear their voices telling me it was okay.
I sat at the edge, tired and broken. Cheeks wet from the tears that had fallen down my face. I couldn’t stop looking at the moon. Its glow was soothing, its presence comforting. I was not alone in the world as the moon was my connection with others. They were receiving the gift of its comfort, bathing in its light and finding its surface features, too. There were others out there as tired and broken as me. But they weren’t sitting on the edge of oblivion. They were on their porches, at their bedroom windows, in their backyards. And soon, they would be safe in their beds, dreaming of the next day, the next moon. They would be dreaming of their futures. The only thing I dream of is not dreaming anymore.
I inched nearer to the edge. Rocks that were once at my feet were now on their way to the surface below. Why am I here? What drove me to this point? Was this it? Fear of living was now conflicting with the fear of dying. Did the others before me feel the same? Did they have second thoughts? Did they even think? I wish I knew. Their spirits didn’t comfort or console me. I was left to deal with my fate alone. I just hope I choose the right path and that it leads me to where I have to be. Until then, I will gaze at the moon, knowing I’m not alone in that.
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