The Moon –

I run.  A staggered path weaves between rock, trees and cactus.  My enemy is above.  I feel the eyes scanning the landscape. 

“Shadows are my friend.” I whisper to my fellow creatures of the night. “I will sleep on safety beneath your own nose!”

I want to laugh.  But sound travels to easily here.  Its bad enough I see my quarry.  But it’s myself dug in the hole hunted.   He can’t get what he can’t see.   The plan is working so far.

The clouds thin.  Moonbeams stretch out.  Rays of silver like nails in my coffin.  I hide with my back finding an uncomfortable Saguaro.  I watch the light chase the darkness.   Hope is a thin shadow.

My pulse rises to match a deep thumping heart.  If heartbeats slow maybe I can breath.  But for how long?

I turn my head to look.  

His face smiles back.  An oblivious look or game over expression.  If I could hear him.  I hate the distance between us.  Only in moving do I get to find out who wins this night.

“I would stab at you.  You hide too far away.” I look away from him. “There has always been a man within the Moon.  He stalks us all.   He had always been death. He will always be death.  Tonight, better be someone else’s turn.”

I curl into a ball and wait. 

Written as part of a challenge called Tale Weaver, details available  at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/04/20/tale-weaver-116-the-moon/

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6 thoughts on “The Moon –

  1. Creepy — I’ve been reading backwards and your dark side is definitely showing. I’m posting a commentary po.em — some of denial and spillwords I think. Been meaning to get back to the “master” file of our comment conversations for awhile.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Nothing wrong with the dark side — glares against the light of your photography at times. Cactus flowers spattered with blood.
        Don’t forget to wipe your feet, if not take off your shoes when you come upon those door mats. No, better keep the shoes on — glitters prismatic might be moon dust or shards of glass.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. shards of glass that once held memories that still cling. Glittering promises that remain unkempt. Begging for Moonlight to set them free again

        Like

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