by Iris Flower

Created on: September 10, 2009

Twas the moon

It calls to me every night when it is full. I lay my head down to sleep in the comfort of my room. Only to be awakened by the pure white energy. I swear I am dreaming tossing, turning in bed. I must go where it is calling me, walking, running to somewhere in the night. I feel the mist of grass under my feet. Wet dew dampens my gown. The chill of night air caressing my skin.

It is there in front of me, like a heavy cloud of fog I reach to touch but cannot grasp. I feel its presence so very near, catching my breath in anticipation, calling me forward I run trying to reach it but it escapes me again and again. Spinning in slow circles as I dance to the quiet music that the wind and night animals make as I pass by, the sound of my soft laughter adding to the anticipation. I come to the edge of a cliff, the dark abbis calling my name. My toes hang over the edge, my arms spread out like a bird as my head reels back and feels the wind blow, it pulls and tugs on my gown. The thrill of danger so close.

I see it, I can see the shape of an arm reaching out to me, it grabs my hand and pulls me close, refusing to let me go, it snags and pulls. Hard as I may try be free, it refuses. I give in and draw closer, finding the body attached to the arm, my eyes closed as together we fall down, deeper into oblivion it seems. I can't catch my breath as we continue to fall and I hold tighter to the arm . We fall so fast I feel sleepy, so very sleepy. I close my eyes and feel myself drifting and losing consciousness. As I start to drift I see a light coming closer from behind my eyes, a warm, bright light that seems to call to me now, the closer the light, the warmer my body feels, the chilled air is turning hotter, birds begin to chirp loudly. It's the light, brighter now, making me squint from its brightness; I open my eyes to look at it. But wait, I am not falling now, I am laying on the ground, as I look around I see that I am under a tree and its branches are tangled in the sleeve of my gown.

Like many other mornings, this is not the first time I awaken to the company of birds and tree branches entangled in my clothes. I spend the time it takes me to get back to my room, thinking of why it is that I fall prey every full moon. How much longer before I find reasoning; before my mind unlocks the mystery that is my mind? Until then, I know this will happen again, will the moon always have such control? Only time will tell.

Learn more about this author, Iris Flower.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.