Dreams Beneath the Sleeping Moon

It was a night more lonely and fleeting than any other, filled with the knowledge of ignorance long past and wisdom only a lonely young man possesses. Now I know that I knew nothing then, on that beautiful night too precious to let slip away. And now I can only look back with a painful longing to return to such times, where everything was still new and the summer seemed endless.

When I was twenty, I continued to perform at The Gilded Lyre Tavern, and it was where I still laid my head at night. The quaint town of Summersong remained the same, yet it was changed in many ways after that wonderful bygone summer. It was the night of the Sleeping Moon, and the sky was bright with the cratered orb’s silvery glow, cast against an ink black backdrop glittering with countless stars.

After my performance at the tavern, I slipped out of my window and into the night. A violent bone chilling wind howled past, with no promise of a pleasant spring on the horizon in its freezing grasp. The moon, a beautifully looming presence, cast a cold pale light on the old stone bridge before me, giving the gray cobbles a cool shine in the night.

As I walked along the stone path, a cloak draped over my shoulders, I stared up at the colossal moon above, lost in its mesmerizing hold as it gazed down on me. I felt the grinding sensation of pebbles underneath my worn leather boots as I walked to the apex of the gentle curve of the bridge. I stopped there, gazing upward all the while.

But this time, there was no passing stranger to bump into, and I remained in my star-crossed reverie for a long time. The moon was the second most precious and beautiful thing I have had the fortune to cross paths with, the first being Demi, that perfect girl from that long lost flawless summer evening. As I stood there, I remembered meeting her many summers ago, in that very spot. How we collided in a tangle of falling books and bashful mumblings before we truly saw one another.

The rush of sound as the wind whipped across my face and whistled in my ears was deafening. No creature stirred; only the rustling grass and the babbling river provided some reprieve from the piercing silence buried beneath the gale force gusts that lifted my cloak as I remembered Demi’s delicate grace, her perpetual state of beautiful and endearing disarray. It was as if she took all the warmth and life out of the world when she left that summer morning long ago.

I remembered her smile, and her skin sculpted of marble. Her wind tousled hair adorned with delicate wildflowers. How bright the evening was, and how every other moonlit night dulled in comparison from the moment I met her. I remembered how beautiful everything was. Her poetry. Her. I could see her bright clear-sky eyes before me when I closed my own, how they lit up when I wrote her a song. I remembered her in the light of a new day, the beauty it brought, though I wished the sun would sleep just a little longer.

As I took a deep breath of cold air and exhaled, I realized that I had awakened from that dream so long ago, and I was left with the bitterness and darkness of a harsh winter ahead. I was left completely and utterly alone. I knew this, long before I set foot outside beneath the Sleeping Moon, but I knew that sleep would elude me that night, as it had every night since that summer evening.

My eyes settled on the bridge’s edge, where I always searched for Demi, convinced that if I prayed hard enough, she would appear. When I made my way over to the vacant edge and swung my legs over the moonlit water below, I remembered how reluctant I had been to say goodbye in the light of day. I adopted the habit of leaving my lute in my room at the inn since then, and hadn’t bothered to play out there, not since that night with Demi. As I sat there, kicking my legs absentmindedly and staring at my somber reflection in the water, I wondered if she was out there, sitting on an old stone bridge somewhere, thinking of me, humming her song. At least we were beneath the same moon, I thought. Wherever she may be.

And so I spent that whole winter’s night there, lost in thought and silence on that old stone bridge, beneath the light of an enchanting yet melancholy moon. Nothing compared to the beauty Demi possessed in that light; there was something so mesmerizing and endearing that I still cling to in my memory, even in the depths of my despair. But when the sunrise inevitably came, it brought no exceptional beauty, and I did not care whether the moon stayed or went. Eventually the sun began to crest upon the horizon, upon the place where I sat the whole night through, clinging to the slightest hope that things would be different this time.

The sun found me right where the moon had left me, and the golden rays cast everything into a familiar and ordinary glow. The river shone like liquid ore, the ripples glistening with the light of a brand new day. The morning songbirds woke the slumbering world from its dreamlike state, and a stillness fell upon my small corner of the world as the winds dwindled to a light whisper and the bare branches and the frostbitten grass ceased their wordless sounds in the light of the dawn.

And though I wasn’t waking from a magical dream, what I was waking to was just as beautiful in its own right. Even without Demi, with her wind tousled hair the color of daybreak. Her eyes the color of the clear blue sky on a blissfully lazy and cloudless afternoon. As I watched the day wake in silence, I cherished old memories of a night long past as I pondered what the day would bring.

If anything.

I threw my cloak over my shoulder and swung my legs over the side of the stone bridge. I stood there, silently staring down the street where I had last seen Demi, uncertain of what would come next. After a handful of long moments, I sighed and turned on my heel towards the inn.

I cannot recall how long it snowed that winter, but if my longing and broken adolescent heart recalls properly, it had to be the entire season, through the Mist and Crystal Moons. And all I could do was play and pine as I solemnly listened to the cold empty howl of the wind, longing for the day that the winter storms would finally cease. When the clouds finally did clear, winter was a memory long past, and spring was settling upon the world.

It was the night of the Raspberry Moon, and the cloudy sky was bright with the cratered orb’s blushing glow and a fading twilight sky glittering with countless stars. I slipped out of my window at The Gilded Lyre and into the night. There was a sweet flowery breeze that sang as it danced past, with the promise of a pleasant and endless summer in its subtle touch. The moon, a beautifully looming presence, cast a pink light on the old stone bridge before me, giving the gray cobbles a flowery glow in the night.

As I walked along the stone path, my lute thrown over my shoulder and my spirits lifted, I stared up at the colossal moon above, lost in its mesmerizing hold as it gazed down on me. I felt the sensation of warm stone underneath my bare feet as they arched to meet the gentle curve of the bridge, gazing upward all the while.

In the bright spring months, I had come to enjoy coming to my usual place, where I could serenade the wind and the fireflies once again now that the world was back in full bloom. I must admit, to this day I am truly fond of the spring. Its sheer tenderness and beauty as things are born and as life blossoms is quite a breathtaking sight in the breaking day when the sun starts to shine. But even in the evenings it was a sight to behold. I must also admit that in Demi’s looming absence, the beauty that the season brought was enough to make my heart ache a little less.

I settled into my seat on the bridge’s edge, tuned my lute, and began to strum as the final light faded from the sky. I lost myself in memories of my mother, of Demi, and of the symphony of nature all around me. The fireflies danced above the surface of the rippling water to my hopeful tune. And when I played the final chord, the sound of the rustling cherry blossoms in the trees began to fill the air with sweet whisperings. The verdant river grass swayed softly and quietly as the river babbled excitedly beside it, and the birds and crickets created a harmony with the beautiful spring night. It paired well with the cheerful notes I played, that lifted the heavy burden of longing and heartbreak that I usually carried.

And that was when I heard the most beautiful sound.

“The winter comes and goes, always slower than soon,” the voice sang, quietly at first.

“And the cold leaves me praying for spring to bloom anew…”

I turned to look over my shoulder as she stepped closer, into the bright moonlight. She smiled.

“As Maytime brings me back to that sweet summer mood…” she continued, closing the distance between us and standing before me.

“She’ll just as soon be gone again, gone with the Summerstorm Moon.”

Suddenly the rush of sound as nature assumed its order around us was deafening. I felt the color rush to my face as I stared, dumbfounded by this fair and familiar stranger who robbed me of the ability to speak. My tongue was too tied, too twisted to utter so much as a word. The young woman tucked a hair behind her ear and smiled. She hugged a tattered leather bound book to her chest, her pale eyes focusing on mine.

My mouth gaped for a moment longer before I broke into a wide smile.

“Demi,” I exhaled, voice weak and raspy.

“Hello, Kellan,” she said quietly.

She was the same as the day she left.

And I have still never seen anything so beautiful.

“So you remember me then?” Demi said with a polite curtsey, giving me a playful grin as she did so. She placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Vaguely,” I replied, returning her playful smile with a knowing one.

Demi let out a sweet laugh.

“‘Tis good to see you,” she said. “Tell me, are you out here to enjoy such a marvelous night under the moon as well? I simply could not resist the temptation myself.” Her playful smile was replaced with a sweet crooked one.

“I was just about to serenade the wind and the fireflies,” I said, gesturing for her to join me. She eagerly obliged.

As our legs dangled over the moonlit water like an age old memory, I pulled my lute back over my shoulder and began to strum. Demi leaned back on her hands, kicking her feet as she closed her eyes and breathed in. Her exhale was filled with sweet contentment as she turned to face me.

“I’ve missed this,” she said.

So had I.

Desperately.

The delicately carved instrument made of rosewood felt light with the weight of recollected memories as I played, and I had to fight the urge to break into a huge smile. Bright eyed, I stared at the rippling water of the river below, and I took in the night around me. The fireflies danced above the surface to my upbeat tune while Demi listened and smiled wordlessly. When I played the final chord, the sound of the rustling cherry blossoms in the trees began to fill the air with wordless sound. The long and waving river grass whispered softly back as the river babbled quietly beside it, and the birds and crickets created a harmony with the night’s spring song. It paired well with the happy notes I played, that held the lightness of hope and bliss that filled my heart.

Demi placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, eyes smiling.

I smiled back.

“I have indeed missed this too,” I finally said. “You took the beauty of the night away with you when you left. I have not played a single night beneath the stars since you’ve been away. It has been a long while since a fair lady shared my company.”

Demi’s smile softened slightly, and her eyes grew sad.

“I’m sorry,” she said. As she looked up at the moon, her pale locks blew in the breeze. “I thought that there was a world out there for me to discover, an enchanting place beyond the horizon I had yet to find. But all my searching proved fruitless, and I found myself longing for the only home I’ve ever known. Here in Summersong.”

Her gaze met mine.

“With you.”

She had looked and sounded so sweet and carefree as she bared her soul before me and the Raspberry Moon above. And in that light, I could see Demi for what she truly was.

Beautiful.

Demi looked at me with her bright eyes, and after a long moment of staring at one another, we didn’t turn away.

“I never forgot the song you wrote for me,” she said quietly. “And the first thing I noticed was your absence on beautiful nights such as these.”

“And I haven’t forgotten your sweet poetry,” I replied, “Or the radiance you possess beneath the light of the full moon. How bleak the world seemed while you were gone.”

I reached for the songbook on my right, thumbing through the pages until I found what I was looking for. After setting it back down beside me, I turned and took Demi’s hand, pressing the small wildflower she gave me into her palm.

Demi moved closer, resting her head on my shoulder. I watched her rippling mirror image smile at mine as we settled into sweet silence.

And so we spent that whole spring evening talking into the late hours on our old stone bridge, beneath the light of an enchanting pink moon. Demi still possessed a certain beauty in that light, something so mesmerizing and endearing. And familiar. And when her beauty transformed with the coming sunrise, I was happy that the sun came, as it inevitably began to crest upon the horizon.

As we watched the day wake in silence, each of us cherished the memories of another night together and pondered the promise of what the day would bring.

And I knew at that moment that I would forever be reluctant to say goodbye.

“I suppose a new day beckons,” Demi said as she sat beside me, kicking her feet as she met my gaze. I made no move to drape my lute over my shoulder.

“Indeed,” I said.

We sat there, silently gazing at each other, but that familiar rush of uncertainty never came. After a handful of long moments, I found a reply to fill the expectant silence.

“Where are you off to now, m’lady?” I asked, smiling at her knowingly.

Demi’s expression changed, and she beamed at me, eyes bright.

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I thought that I might stay.”

My heart soared.

“I see,” I said, mouth curling upward. “Might I have your company after my performance tonight then?”

“You may,” she replied, leaning over to squeeze my hand.

“Should you have any trouble finding me, I will be in the back.”

My expression softened as I squeezed her hand back.

“Demi,” I said, “It will be impossible for me to overlook such a beautiful face such as yours in a crowd now that I have laid eyes upon it.”

I leaned in, and when her lips met mine, the kiss was filled with the sweetness of spring and of endless new beginnings. And as I watched her disappear into the noise and the crowd of the town square, I knew that I would see her again. She would remain through the innocence of springtime, and when the summer came and went, as fleeting as before, I didn’t fear what the fall or winter would bring.

I cannot recall a time where the rain and cold weren’t so dreary, not since my Demi came back to me on that sweet spring evening. But each season comes and goes as before, promising a time of things that are new, and I no longer dread them. And in the ebbs and flows of nature, life and love, I have learned that some things come and go, but some return and they remain. And the one thing I know for certain is that for the first time in my life, I don’t have to say goodbye.