One Shots

Moonlit Undertones

It's the stars, isn't it. The way they shine for their family, gleaming with an angelic white aura so beautiful and bright. Sometimes I look up from under the autumn leaves to see the moon so vivid against the navy sky. It eclipses the sun. It eclipses me. I couldn't imagine a world without it—a simple naked space rock that causes me to feel so small upon my niche in this infinite world.

But the moon cries. It weeps for its love. So do the stars.

While we measure the distance between them to be mere centimetres from our own eyes, in reality, nothing could be so far apart than the longing cries of the lights of midnight. The epitome of melancholic lonesome beauty, lost to wander the great nothing with nothing but the light from their own shadowed eyes.

I feel the stars. I feel them under my skin, careening with my blood, my heart, my brain. Every atom in my soul tells me to follow the stars, to find a lonesome guide in the deep night.

I look up.

The dying leaves around me sway. The wind howls, the moon breathes. I breathe.

I carry on, past the point of darkness, to you—my moon.