Sally and The Moon

It started off as a joke. We were driving home from a lovely date on a Tuesday night. Tuesday was always date night, a middle of the week time when neither of us had plans, and it was cheap tickets at the local cinema also. The moon was larger than usual. Actually, it was probably the same size as it always is but it certainly looked bigger. It was glowing somewhere between yellow and orange. I imagined the Sun on the other side of the World forcing its rays upon the Moon that we could see. “Oh you terrible Sun”, it would say, “I am meant to only shine white and grey yet I can’t resist your brightly lit charms”. It was certainly strange to see the Moon in this state. The mist of a black cloud would float past it now and again, giving it an eerie look, like it had decided to grow a patchy pubescent beard but disposed of it almost instantly after seeing how shit it looked. “That moon looks amazing tonight, but also very creepy” I said to him as he drove me home. “Yeah, amazing”, he responded. “You know what I heard”, he continued, “It’s coming to get you!” He then broke into his signature infectious cackle, like a child being constantly amused by its own stupidity.

He was always amusing himself at my nervous disposition, making good-natured fun of me at every possible opportunity. I would always laugh too as laughter is what brought us together. He liked to make people laugh, and I liked that he made me laugh. As much as I admired his physical attributes, when we broke up it was always the laughter that I missed, and despised the silence that replaced it. If I ever mentioned something looked creepy or sinister his stock answer would always be “It’s coming to get you”, said in a high-pitched voice and always followed by a chuckle direct from his belly. Most things wouldn’t bother me, like the time he told me that Pennywise the Clown from Steven King’s “IT” was waiting for me in the back seat of my car, although I did have to check upon entering the vehicle. There was something different about this night, something about the Moon which had latched onto part of my brain. I had no fear that it was actually coming to get me. Surely if that happened it would take out half of the World as well, but that didn’t stop me thinking about it. The image of this moon would always be imprinted on the inside of my eyelids, waiting for me to shut them at night.

Then he died. You don’t expect to hear bad news on sunny days. TV and Movies would suggest that heartbreak can only be delivered under a raincloud and grey skies that would depress even the happiest of idiots, yet there it was as I stood looking out of my window when I took the phone call from his father. I remember not crying, and feeling bad about it. All I remember from the conversation was “steered from the road” and “it was too late”. All I remember was the sun shining as it sucked all the enjoyment from the World.

I suppose the funeral was as good as could be expected. I tried to talk with his friends as they walked by me but all I could see was black ties and blank faces. The Sun was shining that day too. He always said that he wanted to walk in front of his own Funeral car, a grin on his face as he marched to his rest suspended by strings in a macabre life-sized marionette show. Upon reaching the graveside he would rip away his trousers to let the whole World know he would be buried in his “Invincible Iron Man” undershorts. I never could quite work out if he was serious or not, and this was part of the intrigue he gave while we were together. Never malicious, always mischievous. He was laid to rest by the sounds of Chopin, Prelude 15, “Raindrop”. It accompanied a trailer for one of his favourite video games, and was very fitting. If anything about that day ever could be.

The next few weeks were filled with numbness, like I had fallen asleep one day and forgot to wake up. I felt most definitely awake on this particular night when I visited the Chapel of Rest. The room was covered in wood panelling and despite the varnish all you could smell was the cold of death in the air. I was dressed in black, but a yellow and orange veil covered my face. I didn’t notice this till I looked down into the open coffin and laid my eyes upon him through a rusty tint. His eyes were closed, he looked peaceful. I stood there for a few moments not knowing what to do with myself, and wondering if he would spring back to life like a zombie and lunge towards me. I immediately thought about how ridiculous that sounded in my head and in an attempt to lighten my own mood I gazed across his still body wondering what underwear he had on. As I chuckled to myself I noticed the beginnings of a grin creep across his face.

I opened my eyes at this point in shock. Had it all been a dream? I was in my bed, in my room, and wearing my pyjamas. I sat up quickly and my mind began to catch up with itself. I frantically tried to recall what my subconscious and I had just witnessed but before I had the chance I noticed a similar glow covering my body, the same as my dreamed veil. I was being bathed in a dull fire, my skin displaying the embers left behind before it extinguished completely. I turned my head over my shoulder slowly, my eyes wide, and I saw it staring back at me. The Moon was as large as the night we first noticed it together, that same colour was filling my room. It got closer. I got to my feet and took a couple of small steps towards the window and opened it. It was growing in size as it seemingly flew ever closer to me. As it appeared to be scaling the rooftops of nearby houses I realised that this couldn’t be the Moon, it must be much larger in real life. Were my eyes cheating me? I had woken up, I couldn’t still be dreaming? I stepped back from the window fearful that it would crush my house and me along with it, but it slowed and eventually stopped. I cautiously approached my open window once more and stared in sheer amazement at the sight before me. A smile appeared across its face, and opened. “Hello, Sally” it said, “I’ve come to speak with you for a while.”

I questioned my reality once more as it was now not only my eyes that were deceiving me but also my ears. Despite all of this that was supposedly happening, and how impossible it was, I felt strangely comforted. It was now glowing a brilliant white, with patches of grey streaking through its face. Its smile was welcoming, and its voice sounded deep and commanding, well-spoken but softly subtle. While the air would usually be cool on a dark night I was surprisingly warm. With this feeling surrounding my well-being I opened the window and stepped out onto the canopy below which sheltered my front door. “What do you want to talk to me about?” I asked. While I felt quite comfortable I was understandably nervous about addressing a planet. “We can talk about whatever you wish, my dear girl,” he answered. “A perk of being the Moon in the night sky is that I can hear everything and everyone, and fortunately I am a very good listener.” I thought about what I wanted to say next but found that I was tongue-tied in my own head. His voice was quieter than I imagined. Up until now I only thought of the Moon as a cold rock that appeared over a cover of darkness. It was a signal of spoiling my fun as a child as when the Moon came out it was time for bed. My opinion, however, was changing.

I slowly sat down with my legs crossed; the canopy was dry and leafy. While I got the impression the Moon in front of me was patient it looked at me expectantly so I said the first thing I could think of: “You’re not as big as I expected.” Its smile grew larger as it let out a quiet laugh. The smile looked so familiar. It stayed quiet for a few seconds and to interrupt this I spoke again. “I mean, you are pretty big but I was taught from a young age that you were near the same size of the Earth. So how can you now be 100 feet tall and wide and floating in front of me outside of my house?” He gazed upon me with eyes that looked like craters formed over 1000s of years but the smile never shifted or broke. “I think the answer is obvious, don’t you?” he replied. “This isn’t real, is it? I’m imagining this while I’m sleeping, aren’t I? It must be impossible” I answered very quickly, the thoughts in my head now spilling out of my mouth. “Some of what you say is indeed true, and I’m sure you could’ve guessed this from when I first began to travel to where we are now,” he said knowingly, “but just because you might be dreaming doesn’t make this any less real”.

A few moments were needed for me to process what I had just heard. There was only one way I thought I could be sure of whether this was real or not. I definitely wanted it to be real. I got to my feet and reached forward with a trembling hand and an open heart. The Moon seemed to know what I was thinking and rotated towards me, as if to lean its non-existent shoulder in my direction. As I touched the Moon I felt exhilarated and excited, overjoyed at the fact that if I could touch it, it must be real. It looked solid and cold but felt soft and warm on my hands. I reached out my other hand and took hold. Before I knew it I was scaling the Moon until I reached the top. The craters looked up at me and it asked me to sit. It wasn’t until I noticed my house getting smaller that I realised we were rising into the sky.

We spoke for what felt like hours as we drifted slowly through the air. It was like a first date except comfortable with easy conversation, no awkward silences and no expectation of sex at the end of it. So nothing like a first date at all, really. He told me his favourite films were a mixture of sci-fi and comedy; he enjoyed rock music but also classical strings. We glided gracefully over houses and fields and rivers as I opened up to him about my childhood dreams, my teenage ambitions, and my first love. He was right, he was a good listener. I got the feeling that he wanted to hear what I had to say, and I was going to say everything I could. I felt liberated by my new friend after weeks of having little feeling towards the World and I wanted to enjoy the experience of life once again. However with the experience of life comes the experience of death. As the Sun started to rise I noticed the first signs of that orange colour appearing on the Moon, like a pretty girl’s cheeks blushing from a boy she likes paying her a compliment for the first time. I was instantly reminded of my dream, the Chapel of Rest, the smile starting on my boyfriend’s face, the shock as I was startled awake. I hadn’t noticed we had stopped. I looked down and it was there, and as the Moon started to descend I felt my chest tighten. He landed and said quietly “Don’t worry, you know why we’re here”. He was right.
I climbed down his face and stood on the wet grass, a cool breeze brushed against my face and pyjama shirt causing me to hold it down. The grave was before me. I knew it was his as I closed my eyes to hold back the tears which were brewing inside. The grave was etched “Never Malicious, Always Mischievous”. My new friend told me “It’s ok, it’s what we are here to do”, and I began to cry. There was no more shock in my system, no more tightness in my chest as I sobbed. The water from my eyes gushed down my face and I felt relief. From my experience this night I realised that I had to get passed the feeling of emptiness. Move on from this but not forget him either. I couldn’t spend my days in an awake coma, hoping that one day the weight of grief would just subside. The enlightenment made me feel slightly embarrassed that it took a chance meeting with the Moon for me to realise this. “Don’t be foolish”, he said as if reading my mind, “Don’t ever think that this was a happening of “chance”.” I placed one hand on the gravestone and smiled, and placed my other hand on the Moon before we rose up into the sky once more. “The Sun is rising”, he said, “and I must be going”.

We arrived back at my home and I jumped back onto the canopy outside my room. I turned with my arms outstretched and although I knew I couldn’t reach the whole way around a planet it was important that I showed my affection and gratitude. I realised, with his help that the finest way to remember my lost love was to laugh and smile as much as possible. Just because I wanted to keep moving forward with my life did not mean I would have to forget where he was. With one foot inside my room I turned and told the moon about the first time me and my boyfriend had experienced him together, the colours and the size, the fact that he was coming to get me. The Moon smiled once last time. “He was right. I was always coming to get you”. It sounded so different, so comforting coming from him, like a verbal hug had just wrapped its invisible arms around me. The smile disappeared and he flew away just as the morning was greeting my neighbours with a new day.

I lay down on my bed and slipped under the duvet. While my eyes were sore I closed them with ease. I was safe in the knowledge that the Moon had come to get me, and that it would always be watching over me from the night sky.