The moon rose, pale and puzzled, unsure of where it belonged in the sky. Stars kept their distance, blinking slow, unsure if this was the same companion they knew. The world below didn’t notice—most were asleep, safe in their patterns. But those who dreamt with their eyes open felt a change. The air lost its rhythm. Shadows began to stretch sideways. And the moon, unfamiliar to itself, simply hovered.
The Waters That Refused to Mirror
Rivers once loyal now ran dark. Lakes rippled with indifference, and oceans ignored the pull of the tide. The sky had lost its confidante, and nothing could find its bearings. Reflections were empty or wrong—faces blurred, buildings vanished, time ran both directions. The moon called out in light, but light without memory is only silence.
Even the brightest things lose themselves when no one remembers their name.
Whispers from the Hollow Craters
Old tales say the moon holds the sorrows of all who've looked upon it with longing. Tonight, they whispered back. Craters hummed with forgotten wishes, sighs from lovers too far apart. Some say if you tilted your head just right, you could hear it asking, “Who am I, if not seen?”
