The Bloody Moon

2 min


‘TRANSssssssFORMmmm….’ A small string of light emanated from the wand like an electric current. Derek moved forward anticipating to fly. He fluttered his hands like wings, but to his dismay, he couldn’t.

 ‘Hah Derek, you failed again!’ Derek froze hearing the crafty voice from behind.

‘Grrrr… how did he find me here?’

 ‘How do you know I failed… I was just looking at the flowers.’ Derek tried to camouflage.

  ‘Derek… Derek…and his lame tricks!’ Oliver started teasing him. ‘I heard you saying Trrraansfrommm. Boy, that will not help. If you want your magic to work you have got to trust me with what I tell.’

 ‘And what will that be?’

 ‘When the moon is not silver but red like blood. Drink the drops that trickle from it.’

 ‘When will that happen?’ Derek’s curiosity arose.

 ‘The night after two days will be the one when the red moon will show. Watch out for the sky, if you want to fly.’ Oliver walked away plucking an apricot from the tree.

 Derek stood perplexed. He was not sure whether to give attention to Oliver’s words or not.

 That night he could not sleep. He kept staring at the waxing moon outside his window. ‘Was there any spell to change its color, he wondered. What if Oliver is planning a trick on me?’ But somehow his desire to fly was so deep that he wanted to put all his trust in whatever Oliver said to him and go ahead.

 The night turned into day and day turned into night and Derek kept pondering about the bloody moon.

 The day arrived when the red moon was prophesized. Putting on his cloak he stepped out. The night was unusually cold. The sky was shining brightly with heavenly bodies. The moon was round and full. It looked bigger than usual.

Derek was full of anticipation for the drops that would fall at midnight. He was ready with his urn to capture them. He recalled the folklores about how drops were collected from the moon. Never had he imagined that the song was actually a way of passing the knowledge. He rehearsed playing the song in his mind so that he doesn’t go wrong.

The clock struck twelve.

 Time had come. Derek started humming the song he remembered and followed the musical instructions.

 The moon was gradually turning red and spreading its glow like fire. The cold breeze suddenly became warm. There was some kind of stillness in the air. Derek stood mesmerized.

 “GENUS REPLETE MEAM”, he said on top of his voice, pointing his wand towards the urn, bending on his knees.

 Within seconds the urn was filled with red drops. Derek looked at it with awe. How pretty they looked. Without wasting any time, he gulped down the drops.

 Whizz! Boom! Whoossshhh…

 He was flying zig-zag in the air… towards the moon itself.

 ‘Wait… did Oliver tell me how to stop flying?’

 Glossary:

Genus replete meam: fill my urn (Latin)

***

Photo From: Unsplash

This is an entry for the event #twelve #Five00-10 at ArtoonsInn Writers Room.

Find the event guidelines here: https://writers.artoonsinn.com/five00-10/

Event sponsored by The Archaic House

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Shristee Singh
Currently residing in Hyderabad, Shristee Singh hails from the city of nawabs Lucknow. Writing for her is not a race but a journey... a song which comes from the soul! Playing with words is her passion, Shristee Singh can write on any fashion! Songs of the soul she sings, writing with beatific wings!

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