She awoke under the dark starlit sky. Gasping her first cold breath, puffs of smoke bursting from her lips as she steadied her pounding heart. She rose, soaked to the bone, clad in nothing but her own milky skin and long twisted pale hair.
He stood there, offering a hand wrapped in rags, bright eyes crinkling from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. She smiled, returning the gesture he hid beneath layers and layers of cloth, and took the offered appendage.
(Once upon a time, the Moon was very lonely. For longer than she could remember, she had illuminated the night sky, alone save for the dazzling stars. But the stars, for all their golden glory, were cold and distant. Ignoring her every call and cry. Why? She did not know.
No matter what the Moon did, she remained alone, shunned by the very ones who should have understood her. Still, she called out, despite the silence ringing back at her. For a long time she continued, speaking just for the sake of something, growing more and more despondent.)
The woman beamed as she followed behind her companion, one hand held tight in his, lead through the shadows unfamiliar and frightening. Still, her companion never let her trip or stumble, guiding her as easily as if they stood under the blazing sun.
She bit her lip, laughter threatening to burst, but she knew she had to be quiet for now. Her other hand clutched the rough fabric of her borrowed coat closed as they ran, numb fingers twitching. Everything hurt. Her senses burned with the rush of input; sounds, tastes – the differences made her head spin. Every touch sent her senses alight with scorching white pain; the feel of his coat was almost as cruel as the dirt and rocks and even the grass pressing against her feet felt like hot blades stabbing into her pale flesh. But still, she pushed onward, even as her mind burned and swirled in dizzying spirals, knowing he was there to catch her if she fell.
Being down here was agony, and she loved it.
(After so many years, the Moon stopped giving her silent neighbors any more of her attention. Instead, she focused her sights on the world below; the one for whom she shone her gentle light. And what she found, made her shine brighter than ever.
Little creatures; humans, dancing beneath her light, creating their own in return. She liked it when they did that, because despite the distance; their light was always warm and welcoming.
For a time, her loneliness was sated, and she filled her long quiet nights with the human’s warmth, their laugher and sorrow and passion. For the first time, she did not feel alone.)
They burst from the treeline, racing downhill through tall grass beneath the dim light of the distant stars above. Almost there, almost home, she chanted. Pushing herself faster and faster, nearly side by side with her companion. Sprinting, unimpeded until they reached a wooden cabin, the doorway a dark gaping maw that they didn’t even hesitate to leap through. Now, wrapped in her companion’s arms, the woman laughed. Laughed loud and long and with ringing power as they fell into the soft comfort of his darkness.
(Until one day, inevitably, the Moon decided watching wasn’t enough.
She realised she was still so alone, for the people never spoke back to her, never called to her in conversation like she did them. She was just a dim source of light to the life below. Suddenly, those orange lights weren’t so warm.
But the Moon would not give up, the life below was still so much better, so much closer than the wretched stars. She would not give up, she held out that someone, someday soon, would call on her.
They had too.
Then one day, someone did.)
On her back, the pale woman stretched, curling in the softness of her companion’s bed, waitingpatiently with her eyes closed as he went around lighting candles and his fireplace. Casting the room in warm gentle light.
Along the walls hung grand tapestries and artwork. The warped wooden shelves held a multitude of treasures glittering gold and silver, gems shinning with pride from their chosen places. Anything heavier sat slew across the floor, forgotten amongst the various thick volumes of books stacked high, appearing ready to collapse at the slightest shift in the breeze.
The air tasted of smoke and the tang of magic, several vials and powders remained open upon a nearby desk, threatening to spill their contents across the pages laid across the polished wood surface.
Finally, he turned, casting aside his hat, boots as he approached her. The woman smiled, reaching out and nearly pulling the man onto the plush bed beside her. He fell with a gentle thump and a breathless chuckle.
(Atop the tallest mountain beneath her light, stood a man. Wrapped in dark flowing clothes, his face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat while fabric wrapped around beneath his eyes.
“Moon!” Called the man. “I am the greatest Thief in the world; I have stolen from countless Kings and Queens, I have tricked monsters out of their possessions and swept treasures from beneath the hands of gods, and now I have come to steal you.” He boasted, eyes bright as he stared up at her.
“You sad little creature.” The Moon sighed. “You cannot steal me. I am untouchable, and I am far too large for you to contain. Even if you catch me, your land and people would not allow me below.”
“Does it matter what they will allow?” Called the Thief. “You are the Moon; you light paths of shadow for weary men, your will commands the tides, you, who are worshiped by men and gods alike. Who would dare say what you can and cannot do?”
The moon said nothing, for once, she was silent.
“I will steal you.” The Thief insisted, pressing a fist to his chest. “I swear I will.”)
The Moon grinned, lips pressed against her Thief’s cracked lips, stealing his breath and warmth as they lay against the furs and pillows and other soft things he’d stolen for her. She settled her palm against the rapid thump of his heart, warmth blooming in her own chest as her pulse matched his.
The things he’d done for her comfort she never dreamed she’d be able to repay, but when she pulled back and looked into her Thief’s bright eyes, saw the time clawing across his face, the weakness growing ever more noticeable under his skin, she saw only satisfaction blazing in his gaze. Perhaps her Thief did not care.
Perhaps it was enough that she was His.
(Years passed, and the Moon forgot about the Thief who swore to steal her. She held no fear, no delusions the man’s plans would actually work. Yet, a small part of her wondered, what if she could be stolen? She wondered what it would be like to travel as his treasure.
There would be no silver glow upon the land, no light to guide the weary through the dark, yet, the human’s often used their light to see, instead of hers. Would it really matter if she was stolen? Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Would anyone try to put her back?
The Moon began hoping for the Thief’s return.
And return he did, with magic in his hands and words she had not expected on his lips.
“Let me steal you,” The Thief asked. “I have long heard your songs, your cries for companionship. Is it worth it to stay alone up there in the cold?”
“No.” The Moon said. “But would I be happy with you? Would you keep my loneliness away?” She asked, soft and afraid, bursting with hope.
“Yes.” The Thief said. “I take care of what is mine.” He said, his gaze outshining her light.
“Steal me away.” The Moon begged, and so the Moon was stolen. Right out from the gazes of the stars, from the gazes of the men staring up into the now frighteningly dark night sky.)
The Moon smiled, and gave everything to her Thief without hesitation, without regret. She had been stolen by a Thief, but not once had she felt trapped, or alone. Nor would she in the years to come. Yes, she had been stolen. Yes, she was His, but he was also hers. And neither of them would have it any other way.
(They say a Thief stole the Moon. Stole her light for himself, stole away the safety of the night. Now that she was gone, the Moon was suddenly very important indeed. Even the stars, who had callously ignored her, searched with all their being. But the Moon was never found.
Eventually, the Moon returned, happy and brighter than ever. Never a word was spoken about her absence or how she returned, but every once in a while, the Moon disappeared, stolen again and again only to be put back. The world moved on, and legends sprang up of a Thief so daring he stole the Moon not once, but many times, and despite the pattern of the thefts, he was never caught. Returning the moon only to steal her once again, no matter what anyone did to keep her in the sky.
They say a Thief stole the Moon, in truth, it was the Moon who stole a Thief, and used him to escape her loneliness.)
Rachel Racette, born 1999 in Balcarres, Sask. Love writing characters and creating new worlds. Always loved books of fantasy and science fiction as well as comics. The world is beautiful and terrifying, it is a world of imagination.
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