Moon Daisies

I lay in a drowsy languor; the sun wasn’t far off setting and had painted the sky a pink and peachy-gold with broad brush strokes. I breathed in the grass scented air and closed my eyes. Jonathan had already gone back into the caravan, but I couldn’t bear to. It was too warm, too comfortable on the brushed-cotton tartan rug that held memories of Scotland and stargazing.

I would wait for the stars to appear before moving, I decided.

Someone’s television was too loud; canned laughter and a man’s voice speaking in a decisive tone filtered through the fibreglass walls. I could hear Jonathan too; hear the rumble of the kettle boiling and his tuneless whistle, the clink of dishes as he washed up our tea plates.

Glowing with contentment, I melted into the earth.

I must have nodded off for a short while, because when I opened my eyes the sky had turned a deeper shade of blue, and the caravan light was a homely glow through the screen door. Jon had put on some classical music; it was something I recognised, one of those pieces that he often listened to, but I didn’t know the name of. He was probably reading, a glass of red wine near to hand, and I smiled to myself picturing his slight frown as he concentrated on the words. He didn’t see pictures when he read, he just understood the words and what they meant. I’d been shocked when he told me, I’d thought everyone transformed written words into film.

Venus smiled down at me, along with a finger-nail crescent of a new moon. Just a few more minutes, I told myself.

The TV had been muted, there was only the violin reaching its heart-breaking crescendo, filling my insides with a yearning for - something - a fingertip caress or a slow smile.

My eyes opened again, starlight caressed my skin, and I felt small - it was a big sky. An owl filled with ancient knowledge, called out into the night. It sounded like the grass was growing.

I suddenly longed for the comfort of bed and the regular breath of Jonathan next to me. The thought of him filled me with enough of an incentive to get up and go inside.

Before I could move however, a sudden whisper, floating in the air, pulled my attention to the band of trees that bordered the caravan park and I turned my head to see who had spoken. At first, I could see nothing but deep shadows and the silhouettes of the leaf filled branches against the sky, then, the whisper came again and movement caught my eye, not at the height of a regular person, but low down, as though someone were crouching.

At first I thought it might have been someone cleaning up after their dog, but I soon realised I was mistaken.

The thing was about two foot tall, with pointy ears rising like demon horns on the side of its too large head. Its arms were too long, its legs too short, and I watched in a horrified silence, as it wandered out, from the protection of the sycamore and elder, onto the grass. Its bulbous eyes reflected the stars and the lights of the caravans. It was chanting something that I couldn’t understand, something that raised the hair on the back of my neck.

And then, the chanting ceased, and it stared at me. My heart vibrated in my throat and tears sprang from no-where. I couldn’t even call to Jonathan to come and see it, or help me, my voice had frozen.

I lay as still as I could.

The creature stepped closer. It was wrapped in some form of dark clothing and in the twilight its skin looked mottled grey and green. It stopped in front of me and a musky smell, reminiscent of night-scented Jasmin, damp soil and nettles drifted towards me. His wide, thin lips curved upwards at the sides, further than they should have done, and I gasped, feeling vulnerable.

At my noise he suddenly stepped back, bow-legged and unsteady, and put a finger to his lips. “Hush now, child. Please, don’t be alarmed. I’m looking for the moon daisies.” His voice was low and raspy, like gravel being pulled by the tide, and his mouth curved again under his long nose, showing a sudden gleam of dagger sharp teeth.

I let out a squeak and moved as though to get up.

“Hush!” He urged, putting his hands up in surrender. “I don’t mean to scare you. I just want the moon daisies.”

I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth and jerked my head in a tiny nod, confused and scared at the contrast of appearance and manner. “Moon, daisies?” I managed to say.

“Yes, I think you are, on them.” He gestured with long thin fingers, his tone apologetic.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” My voice was a tight whisper. “I’ll just, move.” I was unable to take my eyes off him. He looked like he could easily rip my face off, or dig my heart out, with one scoop of his sinewy fingers - ‘or his teeth’ - my brain added.

I somehow managed to get onto my hands and knees, ‘Would I be able to move faster than it?' I thought, my eyes flicking to the solid bulk of the caravan.

Before I could make a decision I saw another creature creep into the clearing, its bald head wrapped about with ivy leaves, and a cry escaped my lips. Suddenly, my arms and legs didn’t want to work properly, and safety was too far away.

“We just want the moon daisies.” She was miniature crone with a voice like tearing paper. “We need you to move your thing.” Again, long fingers gestured, pointing to the blanket.

I nodded and swallowed hard, willing myself to stand up. The goblin things watched me with their unblinking, glittering eyes as I towered over them with shaking legs. I bent down to lift the fabric and clutched it tight in my arms.

Suddenly, the crone pointed and clapped her hands. In the middle of the flattened rectangle of grass, a circular patch of heart-shaped leaves began to expand, as though filling with air. Slender stems emerged from the earth, quivering and curling as dark green tendrils reached, inch by inch, towards the sky.

All three of us watched - they in delight, me in disbelief - as hundreds of buds swelled and burst open revealing long, thin, delicate-white, glowing petals. Delicate and thin as the new moon, with a scent so intoxicating I forgot my fear and leaned towards the blooms, breathing in deep, gulping down the taste of it. I could hardly describe it; it was sweeter than honey, and thin like the air just before sunrise on a frosty morning, with an afterglow like warm whisky. It tasted like sunlight through leaves, soft, like rose petals and totally intoxicating.

I fell back down to my knees and crawled towards them, as if I were drowning and they were my lifeline. Just as I reached them I heard one of the creatures say. “Oh dear. I think you’re going to have to…”

I awoke with a start as Jonathan’s wine scented voice entered my consciousness. His hand was a comforting, familiar weight on my shoulder. “You’re going to have to come in now.”

An owl called. The stars trembled above us, and our blanket was cushioned under my head. I sat up suddenly, remembering the creatures and stared into the belt of whispering trees and then at the patch of grass where the flowers had been.

“We both nodded off,” he said, as he hauled me to my feet, “it was the owl that woke me up.”

I could see a vague outline of a rectangle in the grass but there didn’t seem to be any sign of the circular patch of the miraculous ‘moon daisies’.

“Have you lost something?” He asked.

“I, no. I don’t know. Just a minute.” Again, I fell to my knees, and I ran my hands over the damp grass, feeling the short, and soft stemmed, regular daisies furled up in sleep. “There was some, weird scary things,” I said, “like goblins, and then some flowers grew, and they were - just - beautiful…”

"I dreamed I was on a boat. We’d finally saved up enough money for it. It’s probably this place has bewitched us both, what with this lovely night air and it being midsummer and all.” Jonathan took in a deep breath and then laughed quietly, helping me back to my feet. “It’s just gone midnight, you know.” He added, and when his arm encircled my waist, I realised I was cold.

“Here.” He picked up the blanket and draped it around my shoulders.

I thought I caught the faint echo of an enigmatic aroma, drifting from the folds of the fabric, then, my dream faded, and reality took me in its embrace. We walked slowly back to the caravan, filled with contentment and drowsy languor.