FOLKTALE WEEK 2021
PROMPT #1: MOON
From what Marta could tell, there was no point in arguing about the absence of the light in the night sky. The Gods had made their choice about the light source in the finite hours and had clearly favored the day.
The adults in this small island town, however, continued to discuss the black night and its potential. Stories about a thing they called the Great Moon were told once a year at the Luna Festival to anyone that would listen. Stories of rhythm, repetition, and all of the things that flourished under its care.
Marta smirked and postulated. “These stories,” she said to her grandfather, “what is the point? They will never come true. Even if there was a large star in the sky at one point in time it is gone. Lost forever.”
“Magical birds,” they would say, “with beaks of glitter and feathers of gold.” After decades of a desolate night sky the tales aged into evanescent stories told once a year. They became stories of the ages marked as fables. No one, not in this lifetime or the one before, had ever seen the Great Moon.
Marta smirked and postulated. “These stories,” she said to her grandfather, “what is the point? They will never come true. Even if there was a large star in the sky at one point in time it is gone. Lost forever.”
“Sometimes hope is the only thing we have,” said Grandfather, “The Great Moon provided light during the night and consistent movement in the water – a true sign that we are all connected. One day I will explain more. But for now, let us go.”
Marta and her grandfather walked to the edge of the sea and disappeared into a house that blended into the darkness.