by the Wandering Author
Selene stared at the sky, transfixed.
A glowing crystal ball hung there, a faceless grey being with masses of hair bending over it, huge paws clutching. Such an eerie sight must have meaning. Perhaps it was a sign or portent. She struggled to understand, until clouds broke apart in her mind, and light shone through.
It was only the moon, piercing the overcast from today’s storm. She must have wandered onto the balcony outside her room, still feverish, and been captivated by its intense, pure light. She’d stood there a long time; the cool air had washed away the unnatural heat within.
She laughed softly to herself. The experience had been strange, but wonderful.
Selene couldn’t resist trying over and over again to view the world in that way, seeing it as if for the first time. She tried to explain her vision to her friends, who laughed and christened her “Moonstruck”.
She struggled to learn, to express what she saw and felt, but they only avoided her. Lonely, she couldn’t put her new gift aside, even to keep her friends. Solitude drove her on, spurring her to reach out to others with words. After a long, long time she succeeded.
Moonlight through her study window illuminated the row of books she’d written, the awards she’d received. Selene, her hair in the shadows pale silver, sat quietly. She recalled that distant night and smiled. Perhaps it was a portent after all, marking the night a poet and writer was born.