The Moon Druid
An Amanda Moonstone Short Story
By Dan Wright
By Dan Wright
No matter how many times I look at the moon, it never ceases to amaze me how beautiful it looks.
I’ve lived on this world for over eighty years. Eighty years. Or was it ninety? It’s been so long I can’t remember. I can barely remember anything anymore. Who I was, where I came from originally, my family. I seem to remember a daughter once. Or was it a son? Did I even have any children at all? A husband? My memory is so tired now. So very tired. It’s a struggle to remember anything. A struggle to do anything.
All I remember is the moon.
I do remember the first time I looked up and saw the moon. It was a clear night, just like tonight. I saw the moon sparkle in the blackness. It was so beautiful the way it illuminated the sky. As I looked at it I remember not being afraid anymore – though, I don’t know why I was afraid in the first place. The beauty of it all – amazing.
My mother used to say that the moon was the eye of Jeova himself, looking down on us all – so that he could keep an eye on his loved ones. His people.
Was it my mother that said that? Didn’t I say I wasn’t sure if I had a mother? I can’t remember. Did I even imagine that?
The moon looks beautiful tonight. So bright. So warm. So inviting. I can feel my eyelids becoming heavy as I look at it, but I do not want them to drop. The moon’s light warms me, invites me into it’s glow. It’s so strong that I struggle to gather breath. I’m not sure I want to fight it anymore.
I feel something wet rub against my nose. Turning to my side I see Argo – my faithful moon wolf. My companion. He’s been with me for the best part of a year now. My only friend.
I remember our meeting as well – one of my clearest memories. The moon was as bright as it was tonight and I was strolling through the forest. I found Argo, but before he was a wolf – before I saved him. He was left for dead by men – suffering many injuries that no human could survive. The poor thing would have died had I not been there. My magic saved him, turned him into a moon wolf and healed his wounds. As he lay he kept on saying two words. “A. Man. A. Man.” I didn’t know what he meant. What man could he have been talking about?
I rub his furry head softly, his forehead so soft, like the gentlest pillow. Argo curls up close to me and my arms wrap around his warm silver fur. His whines are so sweet and I can hear the sadness in them. I can’t help but smile as he moves closer to me. “It’s all right, Argo,” I whisper. “You’ve got your own life to live now. And who knows – maybe someday you’ll meet this man that you mentioned once before.”
I look at the moon one more time, its gaze so inviting and warm. Did I just say that? That’s all right – I don’t have to remember anymore. All I have to do is lie back and look at the moon. It’s hard to breathe now, but I don’t have to do that much longer. I’m sleepy. I could just lie back and sleep for all eternity. The moon looks brighter now – as bright as the day I first met Argo. It welcomes me with its warmth and I want to feel it.
I can breathe again. But only for a few moments. The moon looks closer than before, like it’s growing. Or maybe it’s pulling me closer. Strange as it is, the closer I get, the colder it feels. The warmth I expected is nowhere to be found.
I see someone. I cannot see his face, for the blackness covers him. A dark, cold blackness like nothing I’ve ever seen before. A terrible darkness, smothering me, pulling me closer to him. I start to panic – I want to scream, but I can’t. I want to run away but my body doesn’t move. The closer I get I feel the darkness devour me. This can’t be right, this can’t be what I was promised.
I turn to the moon once more, hoping for it’s warm embrace – but then I see the darkness surrounding it, trying to swallow up the moon. But then I realise to my horror that the darkness isn’t trying to swallow up the moon – the moon is part of the darkness.
The moon is its face.
I’ve lived on this world for over eighty years. Eighty years. Or was it ninety? It’s been so long I can’t remember. I can barely remember anything anymore. Who I was, where I came from originally, my family. I seem to remember a daughter once. Or was it a son? Did I even have any children at all? A husband? My memory is so tired now. So very tired. It’s a struggle to remember anything. A struggle to do anything.
All I remember is the moon.
I do remember the first time I looked up and saw the moon. It was a clear night, just like tonight. I saw the moon sparkle in the blackness. It was so beautiful the way it illuminated the sky. As I looked at it I remember not being afraid anymore – though, I don’t know why I was afraid in the first place. The beauty of it all – amazing.
My mother used to say that the moon was the eye of Jeova himself, looking down on us all – so that he could keep an eye on his loved ones. His people.
Was it my mother that said that? Didn’t I say I wasn’t sure if I had a mother? I can’t remember. Did I even imagine that?
The moon looks beautiful tonight. So bright. So warm. So inviting. I can feel my eyelids becoming heavy as I look at it, but I do not want them to drop. The moon’s light warms me, invites me into it’s glow. It’s so strong that I struggle to gather breath. I’m not sure I want to fight it anymore.
I feel something wet rub against my nose. Turning to my side I see Argo – my faithful moon wolf. My companion. He’s been with me for the best part of a year now. My only friend.
I remember our meeting as well – one of my clearest memories. The moon was as bright as it was tonight and I was strolling through the forest. I found Argo, but before he was a wolf – before I saved him. He was left for dead by men – suffering many injuries that no human could survive. The poor thing would have died had I not been there. My magic saved him, turned him into a moon wolf and healed his wounds. As he lay he kept on saying two words. “A. Man. A. Man.” I didn’t know what he meant. What man could he have been talking about?
I rub his furry head softly, his forehead so soft, like the gentlest pillow. Argo curls up close to me and my arms wrap around his warm silver fur. His whines are so sweet and I can hear the sadness in them. I can’t help but smile as he moves closer to me. “It’s all right, Argo,” I whisper. “You’ve got your own life to live now. And who knows – maybe someday you’ll meet this man that you mentioned once before.”
I look at the moon one more time, its gaze so inviting and warm. Did I just say that? That’s all right – I don’t have to remember anymore. All I have to do is lie back and look at the moon. It’s hard to breathe now, but I don’t have to do that much longer. I’m sleepy. I could just lie back and sleep for all eternity. The moon looks brighter now – as bright as the day I first met Argo. It welcomes me with its warmth and I want to feel it.
I can breathe again. But only for a few moments. The moon looks closer than before, like it’s growing. Or maybe it’s pulling me closer. Strange as it is, the closer I get, the colder it feels. The warmth I expected is nowhere to be found.
I see someone. I cannot see his face, for the blackness covers him. A dark, cold blackness like nothing I’ve ever seen before. A terrible darkness, smothering me, pulling me closer to him. I start to panic – I want to scream, but I can’t. I want to run away but my body doesn’t move. The closer I get I feel the darkness devour me. This can’t be right, this can’t be what I was promised.
I turn to the moon once more, hoping for it’s warm embrace – but then I see the darkness surrounding it, trying to swallow up the moon. But then I realise to my horror that the darkness isn’t trying to swallow up the moon – the moon is part of the darkness.
The moon is its face.