literature

Moon

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ravenofroses's avatar
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Literature Text

I knew a girl once who called herself Moon. She was an interesting person. A right bitch, but interesting.

I met her first on a bridge at the end of the world, and only after I saw the boiling sea full of Eldritch abominations below us did I realize I was dreaming. Dreaming, of course, because nobody would start that kind of shit without telling me first. It's stated right there in my contract, right after the clause naming me automatic ruler of Australia after the inevitable revolution.

Moon had a lit Virginia slim in her long black cigarette holder, which she tapped once against the railing to dislodge the drooping column of ash before bringing it up to her lips and inhaling deeply. The ash fell into the open screaming mouth of a slug-monkey, which shriveled and was consumed by its kin. Moon smirked and let the smoke curl up from the corners of her mouth.

"I'm Moon," she told me when I tore my attention away from the water.

"I'm Audrey." I paused to take in a deep breath of night air. "That's a stupid alias, by the way."

Moon laughed, the sound tinged with irritation, and took another drag.

"It's what my mother named me," she replied, and I was inclined to believe her.

I asked her what she was doing in my dream not long after. She played innocent at first, trying to tell me how she was probably a personification of my desire to pick up old habits, but the lies were so transparent they hurt. Besides, I told her as I laughed, I never smelled dream-things and I could smell the cigarette smoke. Slims weren't even my usual type, I added, and she looked uneasy at that.

That was my first indication that she was there on purpose.

The second time I met her, we were in a coffee shop downtown. I could smell the coffee beans and the baked goods they served in the little case next to the counter this time and nothing was melting or on fire, so I figured I was awake. Moon had her feet crossed and propped up on one of the low round tables near the back and was sipping on a tall cup of tea, if the little tag hanging off of it was any indication. I took my cocoa from the counter and made my way over to her.

"Fancy seeing you here," she drawled and gestured to the chair next to her.

I sat down and gave her a hesitant smile.

"I come here every week," I told her, like she didn't already know.

I don't know how we ended up at my apartment, but the next day she commandeered the kitchen and made peach cobbler. I watched her from the table, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

By the third time I met her, I was in love with her. The days had melted into weeks, and the seed she planted in that first dream was now a crawling, strangling vine of need.  She smirked over her rum and coke and waited for me to approach.

"Where have you been?" I asked her, and to my shame I couldn't keep the hurt from my voice.

She shrugged and downed her drink, ordered another while I stood awkwardly at her side.

"My work has a tendency to devour my social life," she laughed after the bartender handed her another glass.

I kept to my ginger ale. It was bad enough I loved her; I didn't need inebriation to cloud my head further. She pulled me onto the stool next to her and snickered at my soda, intimating that gorgeous little lightweights like me shouldn't hang around bars alone. Someone could spike my drink, and then where would we be?

She brought a bag of clothes to my apartment the next morning. I rarely saw her; whether it was work or play keeping her away I couldn't tell, but days would go by and she wouldn't so much as check in. It tore at my heart, but when she finally returned with a worn-out smile tacked to her face, I just couldn't bring myself to care. Knowing that my apartment was home was enough.

Until I caught her with an exquisite blonde one morning, of course. Like I said, she was a bitch. Gave me a self-satisfied smirk and didn't so much as apologize. I threw the blonde out, then rounded on Moon with tears and curses and all the usual trappings of a vicious break-up. She didn't say a word, just picked up her bag and left.

I suppose she was expecting it. Everything was packed, even her goddamn toothbrush. She dressed, slipped on her shoes, and disappeared onto the streets. No goodbyes, no well-wishes, no off-hand quips which might have served to fester a slow-burning hate in my guts. Just a smile.

I don't sleep much anymore. Every time I close my eyes, she's waiting for me in some run-down diner or a covered bridge with faded paint. It's only when I've gotten so exhausted I can't function anymore that I know I'll be safe.

I know it's her fault.

I know she snagged my heart for her own dark amusement.

I know she ruined everything.

I know she won't be coming back.

I still love her.
for [link] and their "dreaming out loud" prompt.

it is important to note that i interpreted the prompt as "making dreams into reality."

suggested listening: [link]
© 2010 - 2024 ravenofroses
Comments19
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distantcricket's avatar
Nice voice. I like the flow. Overall I totally dig the piece.

I loved the structure up until the change in format for the last five lines. Your voice came loud and clear, and I expect that perhaps my eyes want to see what my brain "hears" -- almost as if your fading away, smaller font perhaps. :shrug:

The only other thing that comes to mind regarding any additions or changes (as I would not take anything away), is perhaps another set of verbal exchanges towards the end. The first two really helped me /get/ Moon as separate from the speaker.

Loved the imagery, and pretty much echo what others have commented. I believe the only thing I could add to the praise would be "I can see it in my head when I read what you wrote."