Dancing on the Moon

A Story by Honey

I remember everything clearly. I was a child back then, but I used to dream of greater things. I wanted to live on the moon. I'd wake up sometimes, in the middle of the night. The only thing that stirred was the grass outside, and I felt like I was the only living thing on earth. I felt alone, as if there had been some sort of an apocalyptic happening while I was asleep. I wanted to go outside into this world of simple silence and grace. Instead, I would crawl over to my bedroom window, and stare outside for hours, watching the ghostly white moths flit around in the light. I would sit and wait for morning to come, and watch the cold white light fade into a, somewhat warmer, yellow. I grew slowly, but soon I found myself able to leave the cold, dark house I was locked in for so long. I was free, and yet I was grown, and I felt like life was not as fabulous as it used to be when I was younger. I noticed the ugly things in life, and only the ugly things. I didn’t take the time to feel the beauty of the world around me. That is, until that night. The moon was full, and I trod on the lawn in front of the oppressive house, now empty. I twirled around, feeling the breeze lifting my hair, and I felt like I must have been dancing on the moon.