Under The Moonlight Is Where Dreams Are Made

• Cindy Thang, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2010

One windy September night, as I sat on the lone, stone cold, mahogany bench in the middle of the local park, a captivating girl sat beside me. Her green eyes were as dead as night while her fair skin glowed under the moonlight.

I tried to make small talk but as soon as I opened my mouth she opened hers.

“I have no dreams and I don’t dare too so that is why I only sit here when the sun is gone. The sun symbolises happiness and happiness comes from achieving. I don’t dream so I don’t achieve” she barely whispered.

She never dared to dream. Up until today I had not heard of such a saying. Everyone I knew had a dream or a goal but to not dare to dream seemed too extreme.

I had to ask her why she never dared to dream, to which she replied.
“Life is meant to lived not dreamt about. My past, present and future are bad. I have no dreams because I have no hope.”

Whilst this beautiful femme was talking she was twirling her dead straight auburn hair in a manner a bimbo would. She was so alluring in the way she spoke and the way she moved.

I questioned her, “if life has been so bad, why don’t you try to make it better?”

To which she simply replied “I am not one to be loved. Not one to be cared for.”

I told her that she was stunning to me.

She stated, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

To which I responded “the moment I saw you, I felt lust. The moment your green eyes cast across me, I fell in love. I want to care for you.”

“So does the rest of the world” she retorted.

This whole time we conversed she stared up at the shining, crescent moon. The glow of the moon made the park seem almost magical rather than spooky, as most people would see it. Usually in the day the park was bustling with frantic parents and joggers. It was hard to hear the person next to you but at this hour you could dust fall so although everything that came out of her mouth was barely as loud as a whisper I heard all of it. The way she curved her ‘c’s and hissed her ‘s’s.

“What’s your name?”

“Isabel”

As the sun started to rise, she walked out of the park and through the alleyways. I watched her skip through the darkness. I knew I would be sitting out here for another solid hour, being the insomniac I am but during that hour I had a chance. I had a chance to help Isabel.

I played the events of the night on repeat, in my head, remembering all that she said.

I made a note of her significance and vowed that one day, I would give Isabel a will to dream.