New paintings and regular art updates.
Our writing group is sending poems and stories to a new quarterly publication in the local area. I have sent in a poem about roses and a short story in. I’m not sure if either will be published so I’m not going to give much detail here.
The roses poem is about if you had synesthesia and could for example hear what a rose is like. The short story is about a lunar eclipse. Is that enough detail? Wish me luck!
A story written for a prompt “moonlight” for a writing group I’ve joined.
In the past the shadow of Earth would gradually spread across the face of the Moon, it was time for mayhem, time for fear.
But these days people don’t consider the changes that could happen during full moon, or even more so – a lunar eclipse.
Blood red moon due. The TV news channels were full of it. The weather man explained when you could see it. Start at 2.32am, mid eclipse 4.17am, and the end at 6.23 am.
If there was a clear sky people would go out and look. In the dark of the night they would dress up warmly and try and the marvellous sky bourne event.
But in the dark things were scampering, hiding close by, hidden in trees and bushes and tall grassland. Things that changed at the full moon, ready to capture and ensnare. The blackness of night was increased during the full eclipse, when the brilliant moon was dimmed.
It was 3am when she decided to view this lunar delight. A flask of tea, a warm coat and scarf, strong shoes to stop her turning her ankle in the tussocky grass…… A good torch with new batteries. Out the back door- out the gate and into the alleyway… She moved through the misery air. Feet slipping on the frosty ground. Down the path into the feild edges. She was watching where her feet fell but chanced a quick glance upwards. The moon was pinkish, a darker shadow to one side.
As she walked she heard shuffling sounds in the grass. But she took no notice. Out into the main feild. Quietness. The eclipse was doing it’s thing gradually reddening. A blush on the lunar surface. Moonlight but crimson, like blood.
She sat on a wooden bench and poured herself a cup of tea. Strong, no sugar. Sipping it she tried to sit comfortably, head up, neck craning to get a good view through entangled tree branches. ‘Snap’ a twig crunched. Turning her head she saw a glimpse. A WEREWOLF’s Smile…..
The Moon will be eclipsed by the Earth tomorrow morning and there will be a blood (red) moon due. That means that as the Earth moves between the Sun and the Moon the light rays from the Sun are refracted by Earth’s atmosphere. Blue light is scattered more but red light continues towards the Moon and illuminates it. (in a similar way that at sunset the sky can turn red).
Moonlight has been important in my life, from the Moon landings from 1969 and seeing it in its various phases. I remember being in my bedroom sitting on my bedroom window ledge as a child and reading books by moonlight. I loved being able to read even though we had to turn the lights out. I used to enjoy it.
My hubby bought me the Moon yesterday. He knows I love astronomy. It’s a light that is domed so it looks like one side of the moon. It has a remote control and goes through phases as you press one of the buttons or scrolls through them if you press the other button, slowly waxing and waning as you watch it. It’s not astronomically accurate, just a rough surface with vague craters and marès painted on it. It’s only a nightlight, I put it in the bedroom and tried to read by it but it’s just too dim. But good for getting up in the middle of the night because it’s not too bright so it won’t wake my hubby up. X
Moonlight like ice, glinting frost, I wish we had cold weather. Walking round a frosty graveyard looking at ice crystals on bushes and grasses. Little pawprints trailing across the lawn, glittering as a stray moonbeam passes through wilting leaves.
A gravestone sits sideways to all the other ones. Because it’s occupant was said to be the local witch, wise woman, healer, giving remedies that were beyond the wit of man? Perhaps that moon shone down on her once, on her cottage surrounded by herbs, witch hazel, foxgloves, woody nightshade.
Don’t move, just listen, hear the rustle of bat’s in the belfry, feel the crunch of ice under your hand. Its All Hallows Eve. Perhaps this is a dream about Molly Leigh, the Burslem witch.
Four am, the brightness of the moon illuminated our kitchen, little sparks of light twinkled in the rain drops on the window. Suddenly the room dropped into darkness as a thick cloud passed across the moon.
You OK? A voice from upstairs.
Yes, I called back. Just the moon.
It’s dark now, come back to bed, it’s cold, you need your rest.
As I walked into the living room a shaft of moonlight cut through the dark.
Noooo….. I could see my hand changing again, my jaw stretching, my fangs reappearing….
I opened the back door.. It would be a long night…..
The building was old. You could tell that by the wooden shutters over the windows, more like prison bars than anything else. Not a scary place to walk past in the daylight, but on the odd occasion that she walked past it at night she made sure she walked fast, just in case.
In case of what? No one knew much about the building, but it was attached to an old windmill and there was a tall wall leading off into the distance where the building ended. Just one gate, made of old and rotting wood, that was half way down the length of the wall..
When she had walked past before she could swear she had heard snuffling like a dog, and something scratching at the gate. As she walked past her clicking heels would speed up to get her past. A rush of adrenalin enough to make her heart pound.
Tonight the alleyway was lit by a dim street lamp at either end. Slipping from behind the clouds a full bright moon gave extra illumination. Tonight the cobbles were wet, with a gleam in the light of small puddles reflecting back the moon.
No choice really, walk along the alley and cross the road to the car park, or walk half a mile round the one way system. At that moment a dreary drizzle started. It was the alleyway tonight. The quicker to get home and get warm. Her feet clicked and splashed as she walked along, she almost twisted her ankle on the cobbles. She passed the old shuttered window and heard, what exactly? Snuffling? Panting? She hurried on. Almost at the gate, just over halfway along the alley, point of no return. A sudden rushing sound, like a dog running, then a howl. She froze, there was the sound of something large hitting the old gate. She pulled off her shoes and ran….. The howl followed her…..
Fly me to the moon was Stella’s favourite song. She’d heard it as a child and whenever she saw the moon she would either sing that, or sometimes twinkle twinkle little star.
It was 3am and the moon was a half circle, flying high, dancing in and out of broken clouds. A few moonbeams made it into the kitchen as she switched on the kettle and waited for it to boil. She was careful to pour the liquid into her coffee mug. In the dim light she didn’t want to spill it onto her toes.
There was a flash, she looked around and saw, nothing. The world looked the same.
There was another bright flash. This time she was a meteor streaking across the sky. Far brighter than a normal shooting star. And there was another. These are fireballs, she thought. They must be high up. The shadows they cast shot across the kitchen rapidly. One particular one was so bright she thought it was going to hit the house. It made the windows rattle.
Then it just stopped. She waited minutes for another one. Nothing. No sound, no wind, no huge explosion. What had they been? In the morning none of her neighbours had heard or seen anything. She went to work, came home, made a coffee.
Turning on the six o’clock news.
“seven space vehicles have landed near Washington” “no response from them” “civilians are warned to keep away”.
She wondered what would happen next?
Mallaband-Brown