The Devil and the Moon (Part 1)
She asked him to do something amazing, merely because he said he could, with casual disregard somewhere between irritating and glamorous
So he plucked the moon from the sky
The fact is, he changes by night and by season
On cold nights he has wings on his dog eared Airwalk sneakers
And while the angels looked the other way, shielding their pink round cheeks from the assailing wind
He casually walked up the sky, in front of her, skirting the light from star to star, like a drunk wending his way through an alley
And when he reached it, he plucked as casually like a bum picking up a dollar
and hid it in the hip pocket of his raggedy tweed jacket
He high stepped back, more quickly vacating the scene of his purloining
He returned to her side grinning. The poor thing seemed very small now in jutting from his coat, casting unpleasant shadows on his face, making his pallor sickly turning blue white and green in turns
She noticed the sky had gone very, very dark
“And what shall we do now?” he said, his voice a quiet drum. “What parlor trick are you to put me to next?”
“Put it back,” she almost whispered pleading, still somewhat disbelieving.
But he remarked that if she wished it back in the sky she could take it from him and walk up there to replace it herself. She knew she couldn’t.
“Then walk with me,” he said.
She had no desire to be there with him. Now colder and darker than she could ever remember a January night being, she wanted to be home under a blanket watching something cheerful on TV with a warm drink in her hand. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave him, not as long as he had that poor thing held captive in his jacket. After all, if she didn’t make him put it back, who would, or could?
By taking the moon, he had changed the night completely. Those near enough to home went there and locked their doors, but those left outside had become victims and wolves.
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