#NASC: Luna McGooklebury
Every day in July I am writing bad fiction about strangers I see in the street. Yes, I know that makes me an unpleasant person.
Ok so this one ended up stranger than I expected it to be, but the words sometimes have a way of taking you by the hand and leading you where they want. Also, I haven’t written fiction, inspired by real events or not, in quite a long time. Walking home from work tonight, on a warm evening on the 1st of July, I spotted a large-ish older lady wearing an emerald 3/4-length crushed velvet jacket and a pale blue scarf. Fucking hippy, I thought. She must be sweating like a glassblower’s arse. I think it goes without saying that “Luna” is a name she chose for herself.
Luna pressed on, along the too-light streets. She could feel the drab sunlight of everyday life sapping the life force from her. The long sunny days kept her beloved stars from her, allowing them out late at night only to snatch them away from her early in the morning. The unnatural warmth of summer was a smirking reminder that the sun was jealous of the beauty of the stars. The heat of her anger made beads of sweat run between her pasty buttocks.
She wrapped her crushed-velvet coat tighter around her ample frame, re-wound her scarf around her neck. She would refuse the sun at all costs. She could feel her burning fingers all over her body, trying to get in, trying to seduce. She bit down a snarl at the sheer effrontery of the wanton whore and her anger caused more sweat to bubble up from within her.
She must refocus. She must reattain her calm. She fondled the crystals in her pocket. After seeking their permission, she had sealed starlight into them with a spell of binding and strung them on a silver chain. They were a comfort and a strength to her, especially at times like now. The stars cared nought for wrath, she told herself. They love only serenity and peace.
She crossed the road to the park, taking off her flip-flops and walking barefoot through the freshly-cut grass. She reached her favourite meditation spot, in the shadow of an old oak. A dog had shat in it. Luna breathed deeply. The sun mocks me, she thought, but I will not be angered. Like the tree, I will bend with the wind and grow stronger. Luna sat down, cross-legged on her spot on the grass, dog shit be damned. Getting the dogger out of my beautiful coat is a pennance she would gladly pay. She sat there, feeling the lascivious heat of the sun diminish and finally, released from her sultry grip, her beloved stars appeared. She watched their light as it reflected off her emerald coat.
Soon, it was pitch darkness. Luna loved the evenings. The calm coolness was enticing and tonight her stars were in full view. She would worship them as she never had tonight. She heard footsteps approach, felt the presence of others. She opened her eyes and stood up. They, like she, were naked. Their pallid, amorphous bodies drank in the starlight.
“Sisters”, Luna greeted them. “Shall we?”