C. T. Suddeth

Beware the Full Moon

Charles Suddeth

We raced, Fetna and I, far above the earth, the winds whipping our long hair.

Our broomsticks flitted just above a mountain peak as night descended upon us.

We soared higher and higher, sawing through cottony clouds.

“This is the life!” I shouted.

Fetna laughed. “Higher. If you dare.”

We tilted our broomsticks up, soon looking down upon dark-tinged clouds.

Then I beheld the gorged moon, as full as could be. But where was the Man in the Moon?

Drawn by seven heavenly goats, a celestial chariot approached us. Long beard, blazing eyes, arms as thick as trees, it had to be the Man in the Moon.

I was too far from my hearth, from my familiars, from my loved ones. I longed to cook pease porridge in my cottage. “Let’s head for home.”

Fetna cackled. “A coward you be!”

The chariot drew ever closer, so close I could smell the goats’ fetid breaths, their bleating breaking upon my ears, as the glory of the chariot blinded me.

Shrieking, I shot toward earth.

“Weakling!” cried Fetna as she steered toward the chariot.

A cloud of light swathed her.

THE END