Under the Moonlight

2

I lived all my life for what is worth solely just writing, avoiding the drawing of the implications life has to offer on me, perhaps I've grown, or maybe I have forgotten entirely, until I decided, of course, to climb up the mountains of the Appalachians and got lost ultimately.

I wasn't really that type of person who immediately panics once one realizes they're off the tracks and was lost, as I still got my pen and paper with me!

And so I ventured through the trees and the shrubs of the mountains, together with my trusty old bag.

I got my water with me, and thanks to the Appalachian climate, I never got the need to become dehydrated, as the environment in itself is humid and temperate.

I spent my first evening being lost watching the sunset on the tip of one of the many mountains across the range. Of course, who wouldn't appreciate a little bit of nature in the most peaceful way possible? Away from the daunting responsibilities in the civilizations below and the commitment you had to give just to earn a salary, mind me, I don't want any of that!

I tried to do many of the things I was forbidden to do back in the smirks of civilization, which were dancing, singing, and of course, drawing... In this faraway setting, I believe no one can judge me for what I do; no rules to be followed and no standards to be met by men.

As I was biding my time, enjoying the lurks of nature on my shoe while my eyes closed, someone suddenly greeted me, it said:

"What is that on your paper?"

I froze in dead silence as I opened my eyes and looked at the person in front of me. Completely dumbfounded, I looked anywhere else to see if it was I that she was mentioning, as I've never expected one to have been here at the same time as me. But to much avail, there is no one.

She stands there examining me as if I was a lizard before getting eaten by a frog; all small and slender, her looks are also like none of what one would've expected being lost at a mountain top.

Of course, if you saw someone being lost nowhere, the first thing you'd ask is:

"What are you doing here?" I asked her without hesitation.

She stood there as if she didn't understand me, then afterthought, she replied:

"What are YOU doing here?" she asked me back with great curiosity.

Her tone is as if she had lived here for years, even though I barely see someone living on top of an actual mountain. I barely see any cabins around here, even on my way! But as I set myself aside, I chose to answer her question anyway:

"Well, I'm practically lost, and I was just biding my time up here, drawing sunsets and anything that could bring me pleasure without the fear of judgment."

In her astonishment, she eventually approached me like how a dog would if it were given a treat as if she had met no other person in years! Given this time, I could say she is a lot younger than I am. I'd assume we're years apart even, but of course, I doubt we wouldn't get along.

As she got closer to me, I tried my best to hide my drawing book by my side, as I was afraid of being judged for what I used to do when I was a child, but of course, she eventually got the hang of it right after she sat by my side, looking at the drawings I had done from a while and in the past.

In fear of being called out, I tried to cover my ears and close my eyes.

She immediately grabbed my right hand as she removed my index finger from my ear, then heard the words I'd never forget:

"I like your drawings...!"

And there I was, moved by her words as I slowly opened my eyes to take a look at the page she was mentioning.

I tried to invalidate the comments she made on my drawings, but to much avail, she denied it as well.

"How are you saying those words to yourself? I'm already the one who's giving the compliments to you!"

And there I realized maybe I was going a bit too much on myself, with all these harsh judgments made from the civilizations below, perhaps, I slowly turned into someone like them.

I chuckled out of nowhere as I remembered that she must have known some other great illustrators of my time, then she asked me:

"What are you laughing about?"

"You must be ridiculed if you think my drawing is great... Have you ever even met John Striebel? Or perhaps, Gus Edison?"

But to no knowledge, she didn't reply, as she was left blank by all the gibberish I had mentioned just now.

"John, who Gus what?" she replied to me, muddled in her own thoughts, trying to figure out who I mentioned just now.

At this point perhaps, I assumed she really lived here, unknown of the civilization and people like me below the mountains, but in any way I know, I tried not to talk about it, as I, myself, am avoiding the likes of civilization.

"Scratch that off," I replied to her as I shook my head.

She shrugged it off anyway and proceeded to look at the sunset.

"In my place, the sun was a much bigger view than here." her odd statement left me in question, where is she really from?

And so after a moment of doubt and silence, I asked her that question, but to my curiosity, she only replied:

"That one," she replied with her hand pointing up above the sky, to which in my cognition, was pointed at the moon.

"The moon?" I tossed my head out as I was dumbfounded by what she said just now.

"Oh, is that what you call it here?" she said to me in uttered inquisitiveness.

"We call it the moon, yes." I nodded as I looked up at the moon, slowly becoming visible as the twilight emerged from the sunset.

"That's great to know that it was called the moon here." the girl sighed in relief as she had felt wondrous.

"Why is that?"

"Cause, the moon sounded like a reverie,"

I was left with no words as I slowly repeated the word to myself.

Then that night, never did I think that the word moon would sound so good and soothing to my ear as if I had just heard it the first time.