HumpDay Quickie #83

Posted: November 4, 2015 in Hump-Day Quickies
Tags: , , , ,

The Moon Mask

by Voima Oy

Once there was a woman who wanted the moon for a mask, to hide her face behind its changing faces.

She lived in a place of perpetual night, where the darkness deceives the look of things. Here, owls become foxes and wolves become men. The wind bites with sharp teeth, and the stars look on.

Because she was a witch woman, she lured the moon down from the sky.

“Now I have the moon for a face,” she said. “I will catch that hunter, too. His bright young body will shine in my house. We will keep each other warm for the winter.”

The hunter spotted her in the distance and followed her light through the trees, his dogs barking at his feet.

At last, in a clearing, they came face to face. “Are you chasing me,” she teased him. The dark of her hair was like a raven’s wing across the moon at 3 am.

“”Who are you?” he said. ” Let me see you.” Was it the shimmering of the sky that made her figure flicker?

“I am the light you see in your dreams, Mighty Hunter. I am the fresh tracks in the snow, the trail of black blood on the ice. Come with me.”

The hunter felt the wind grow colder. The dogs began to whimper.

“Who are you really?”

“You ask so many questions. Let me ask you one. Are you a brave man?”

“I am brave enough.”

“Are you brave enough to face my true face? I don’t think so.”

With that, she turned toward him, and he could see the empty space where her face should be, the black whirlpools that were her eyes. The hunter tried to run away, but the wind in her hair whipped through him. The dogs howled at the moon.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s