The Hunter’s Moon
Magic is what makes the universe pulse. It is what makes a life a life. Some are more gifted at being tuned to the cosmos than others. You could call me one of those people who have always heard how the universe whispers. That’s why there is always magic at the tip of my fingers.
Literally now. I cast a spell to bring light into the darkness. The glowing orb swirled on my fingertips as I made my way through the darkening forest. The Hunter’s moon would soon step out from behind the clouds. I had destiny waiting for me.
My skirt rushed against the undergrowth, sounding like a million whispers. On any other day, I would stay and listen to the forest full of voices, hear all the spirits and the elves, but today, the fate of the world rested on my shoulders.
With every full moon, everything could tip into chaos. The old prophecies stated that now, November the thirteenth, it would all end. Most of the time, I didn’t believe prophecies, as existence was a fluid state affected by even the tiniest pebble in the stream. So for something determined to happen would be short of a miracle. But this time, I had to push back my theories of chaos and accept that there had been signs of the doomsday. Every day, more and more discord found its way from the major stages to the hearts and minds of the common folk. I had witnessed more than one fight today for meaningless reasons. People were bitter, self-centered, small-minded, and full of hate. That didn’t used to be so. It was as if the whole world had suddenly been poisoned.
And I knew where it would start, where that darkness seeped in. It was something my mother knew, something my grandmother knew, something my great-great-grandmother knew. Generation after generation, mothers were tasked with pushing back the darkness.
And as I suspected, the tentacles of utter hatred swung in the air. They tried to escape past the barrier my line had set there to tame it. The enchanted stones had moved an inch from where they usually sat.
I took a stand just outside the circle. Instantly, the tentacles shot toward me, but the stones still held them at bay.
“My heart, my mind,” I started. “My soul, your soul. It is not time. You are to walk back where the ancient gods lie. This is my realm. That is yours…”
The tentacles crashed against the invisible barrier. Darkness needed only one crack to sneak in and infest all and everything. Just one doubt, one callous thought, one greedy action, and it would claim its own.
That was what they did. The clearing outside the circles burst into a cacophony of offerings to my better and worst natures.
You can be rich.
You can be beautiful.
We will give you anything you want.
You can rule the world.
I sighed, wondering what kind of simplistic creature comes up with these thoughts. If they wanted to appeal to something I wished for and wanted, then they were looking in the wrong place. But I would not offer them any points.
“My barrier, your barrier, it stands. Under this moon, I seal you back in.”
A wail rang out, and the stones rolled back to their spots.
The tentacles disappeared, and the forest turned less dark. The little spirits that had been hiding in the trees, in the bushes, and behind the stones stepped out. I sat on the ground, letting them come to me and help me charge the stones to their fullest.
The Hunter’s Moon shone over me, reminding me why phases mattered.
—
This story was inspired by two events that were to come. There will be a Hunter’s Moon soon, October the twenty-sixth; also, the scientists in the 60s predicted that November the thirteenth this year there will be a doomsday. So we live in exciting times. Also, I wanted to honor the season we are having, my mind occupied by the spooky and all things witchy. What I got today was a contemporary fantasy quest written in the objective third person. As I began writing the story about magic and how it exists in all, I knew I wanted to use first person, not third. I took liberties. I’m happy where the story took me.
On a personal front, or as the writer’s front, my book sales are grim. I can see the pattern, and I need to put something new out there soon. I know my next installment of Glorious Mishap will take time, but the sci-fi dystopia novel is done. I just need the cover. I’m still undecided on how to publish it. Should I go with Amazon, or maybe gradually post it on my Substack page? I wish I had clear thoughts about this, but I don’t. There are so many pros and cons to both ways. Darn mind, and how indecisive it can be.
Thank you for reading! Have a magical day, and see you tomorrow ❤
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