Phases Of The Moon

• Chelsea Mountford, Grade 12, Bray Park State High School
• Short Story
• 2017

Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition

And it was the brisk tingle of breeze, which brushed my skin, hair standing on end. Treading carefully; out and through the frozen aura of darkness. I mustn’t wake him.
I hear the wooden stairs groan behind me.
“Thought you could sneak away so easily?”
My coat flaring at the edges ever in the slightest, my body deprived of motion. The silence captures the whistling wind, taking it hostage. I recognise that voice from anywhere. Looking over my shoulder briefly, there I see him standing.
“I was simply going out for a nightly stroll.”
“No excuses. Come inside, at once!”
I turn around, now in sight; the shadows of his figure hang over the ground as if to resemble the bags from underneath his weary eyes.
“Sorry father, but I have somewhere to be.”
That was a lie. But I had to be alone with my thoughts.
He proceeds to open his mouth, but nothing comes of it. I turn around. My feet begin to mope, sobbing hard at the touch of the ground.
“Percy, my son, be safe.”
His voice lightly carries across the empty night, yet bringing with it the heavy weight of my burdens. I soon find myself wandering aimlessly through the town streets, dimly lit with a dull glow. But that is not of bother. There is something about the night that intrigues me so. Maybe it comes from the comfort of the stars watching over from above, or the cell of solitude the universe provides, or even quite simply from discovering the most pure and beautiful things in the darkest of times. If only I could remain in such a place forever. Reality is merely for the corrupt, and I, I am a dreamer. I stare down the labyrinth of pathways I walk, everything disappearing behind me, unsure of what’s to come next. I glance up to the moon, hidden, in the sea of stars. Something so beautiful, needs not ask for attention. In the distance, a figure belonging to the shadows of night poses on a bench. I find myself in a standstill before curiosity snatches the shoes from my feet. My blood begins rushing through me like river rapids. The intensity glazes my eyes with water, my heart resembling that of a galloping horse. I step carefully, my eyes adjusting to the shape of the darkened figure; as if I were putting the last pieces of a puzzle together. I’m only metres away from approaching, the silence growing louder as it rings through my ears. I glance behind me, questioning my earlier decision before slipping my hands into the pockets of the snow-drenched coat, my fingers search for the comfort of home. I breathe in deep, slowly winding back the thoughts in my mind, inhaling the tranquilising drug of the universe. Pausing abruptly, my focus suddenly shifts to the sight of the empty wooden bench...Where’d they go? I scan my surroundings for shadows, for movement, for sound. Nothing, they’re gone.