The Moon and the Fog(Title likely to change)

Named After an Artist?

  Some will tell you the hardest part to a story is the beginning, some will tell you its writing the end. To tell you the truth, its not for the writer to find any part difficult. It's for the reader, the knowledge in opening the pages you will find desire, longing, and much too often you'll find love. You'll find characters you relate to, characters you despise, and characters you would call a friend. A story is like a fog rolling in from the distance. At first you see clearly, but with time your view becomes obscured. Hopefully by the end, you have clarity again, though now its a different kind. You exit with new eyes. With this explanation out of the way, erase your expectations of the story I have for you.    

My name is Midnight and I live in an unimportant town with unimportant things. Perhaps I am being too drab about it. We have places that everywhere has, a pizza shop, a grocery store, and a weekly flea market. The only two places that matter to me however are the record store and Bowie's house. Now, I know you're wondering who is Bowie?Bowie is a girl that lives on my street in one of the many decrepit homes. She insists on wearing David Bowie shirts, her name sake. Her parent's named their daughter Bowie, I still refuse to believe it.   

 I met Bowie at the record store a few winters ago. She had lived down the street from me for years and I had never seen her. She had an awkward way of standing, with the knees tucked in. Wearing glasses that pearched just a little high up on her nose. I was never any good at introducing myself to anyone or striking up a conversation. As soon as i saw her shirt, I knew I had to talk to her. The reason I did was also my starting point, she was wearing a Bauhaus shirt. While not an unknown group in my online circles, I would bet money no one in town knew them."I really like your shirt." I managed to mutter.At first I was unsure if she knew I had been speaking to her. She seemed stunned someone could be."The design, right?" She ever so softly responded."That and the group. Bauhaus is some of my favorite stuff" I replied confidently."You actually know them?" She quizzed."In The Flat Field is a personal favorite." I said."Burning from the Inside is beyond that and feels more personal for them." She smiled ever so slightly.   

We spent a good amount of time there discussing various artists and albums, she even gave me a few from the stack she purchased since I had not heard of them. I was elated to find out she lived only a few homes from me. Once we started spending time together, we couldn't stop. Our hang out sessions were giant personal concerts for us. She would come to my place almost every day, always with an album I didn't know. I always attempted to keep up with her and buy albums she didn't know. I didn't know what else we had in common, but I knew I just enjoyed her presence. Even if all we did was listen to old albums and watch the rain.    

After a month of this our conversations started to evolve beyond the music we had recently discovered or things that had happened in the neighborhood recently."Midnight, I want you to know you matter. Even in this small town you feel you don't fit in, you matter." She said quietly.I didn't feel like I could respond. When someone you've felt swept away by speaks those words out of the blue, what do you say? She saw my contemplative look and smiled back like she understood. As the current album ended I looked at her and caught her gaze."You matter, too, Bowie. Even in this small town" I finally responded.She looked like she had a small glimmer in her eye, but with the moon shining through the window into my dark room I couldn't tell."Thank you, even if it did take you some time to respond." She laughed.I couldn't help but laugh with her, she had contagious laughter. After a few more albums it was time for her to leave and we said our goodbyes.    

I laid awake most of the night. Unable to stop thinking about what Bowie had said to me. Of course over the years people had said they loved me. Family and close friends usually, but never someone I had met only a month ago. Especially not someone who didn't know much about me aside from my musical preferences. By 3 AM my thoughts had not left the nights events. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer I had to know why she had said that and why to me of all people.    

She had to be awake this late, right? She mentioned a few times she could never sleep at night, surely she'd be up tonight. As I approached her small house I noticed only a dim red light on in what I assumed was her bedroom. I stood at the door working up the courage to knock for a few moments. While knocking I began second guessing if it was reasonable to show up at anyone's house this late, even Bowie's. Those worries were calmed as soon as she answered the door. She smiled when she answered. "What are you doing here, Midnight?" She asked a bit surprised. "I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking about what you said to me last night. I'm a decent person sure, but I don't do anything special. Sure I can name some obscure artists and sometimes even albums by them but I..." She cut me short, embracing me. In that moment the world stood still and it spun faster. She made a gentle shushing sound in my ear which sent chills down my spine. "Come inside, Midnight, we'll talk about it."