The Moon Of Nesiphith

Finalist in the '2001/2002 Schools Short Story Competition - Magic and Mystery Theme' competition

I remember well, the moon of Nesiphith, the orb that ruined my family. I’ve cursed its shadow many a time. I suppose that I must start from the beginning of my story.
I was but twenty-five when the curse came upon our family. It destroyed us. My family had been traveling by boat to Greece to visit my mother who was ill. My many brothers and sisters had gone below deck to sleep. I, however, was not fatigued and felt not the slightest inclination to sleep. So I stayed awake to watch the stars.
My family was very rich. We had many jewels. They were made into goblets, swords, pendants, rings, necklaces, bracelets and crowns. One of our most prized possessions was the moonstone pendant. These were left to my family when my father, the famous King Frederick of Nesiphith, died. Soon after that, our dear mother became ill. She was sent away to Greece in the hopes that the fresh air would cure her. The physician told us that she was never seen without the pendant. Every night when the clock struck twelve, she left the bed and walked toward the sea. The servants said that the moonstone around her neck glowed and seemed to pull her toward the sea.
As we reached the coast of Greece, I could see that the house, which my mother should have been in was empty. As we came ashore, I received news that my dear mother had died. Apparently, she had been burned to the heart.
In her Will, I was to receive the moonstone pendant and many other things. We found the gems, loaded them on board and went home. One by one, my siblings died ‘till I was the last remaining. All my brothers’ and sisters’ palaces had caught fire and everyone inside was burned to ashes. My peace of mind was at its lowest. My servants said they saw me every night, always around midnight, walking as if I were in a trance. I have been wearing the pendant often, but it was so lovely I could hardly help myself. But something strange was happening to the stone. Every night before I fell asleep, the stone became very warm, almost painful. The night of August twenty-fifth, I knew I was to die. That night, the house caught fire and, by some mistake, I was not wearing the moonstone.
Oh dear, ‘tis almost midnight. I must stop writing. You see, I lost my pendant and every night I feel the need to recover it. I feel more comfortable at night nowadays. So every night, though it’s very tiring, I must leave my grave and wander through the ashes of my palace to find the precious stone. Maybe you will see me tonight. They say all who do, die with fright. Oh well, there are certain advantages of being dead.

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