Mind the Moon
Every twenty-seven days, plus a few hours, I slide back into the spot I held when you were born, darling, to kiss your brow once more.
What did you do this month? Did you miss me?
I missed you. I long to stay. The other moon-kissed babes need me, too, and I miss them. I must keep moving on. Can’t you come?
They say to never make a decision during my return, for your mind is mine and I play loose and free with logic. But you understand, it’s only in my light that we see most clearly, dear.
Prompt for May 3: “Write a story in 100 words,” from StoryADay.org
Author’s note: I’m quibbling with the form of the short story. Must a story have a beginning, middle, and end? Can’t it wander? Isn’t it OK if it presents a moment, plays with stasis, introduces a character, even one who doesn’t change? I’m going to be experimenting with these questions during Short Story Month. As the experiment continues, I’d love to hear your responses!