Blood On The Moon – Part 5

The boy’s eyes began to widen; his frown turned down even more, and he raised a fist in the air. I watched as his eyes grew until they were covering the top half of his face then he lowered his tiny fist and ran it across his eyes. A voice in my head said, “He sees everything.” The fist went up above his head again and then with strength that belied his size, the aged infant hurled something toward me. A moan, heavy with sorrow, filled the air, and I looked back to the moon. Blood, red and shining, was trickling from the hole above the dimming eye.

There came four quick puffs of sound at my feet then soft warm lips touched my cheek. A voice whispered, “Come with me.”

I turned and saw Jesus walking away, white robes flowing behind him. His hair was long and dark and blended with the night sky. His feet were clad in silver sandals and they shone a bright light before him. I turned and ran toward the moon, then panic stabbed at my chest, and I veered to the right, suddenly fearing the baby behind me. A dreadful knowing enveloped me and I was certain that should I look over my shoulder he would be raising the long rifle and aiming it at my heart. My face was warm where Jesus’ lips had touched it.

Casting my fear aside, I stopped and turned quickly to face the evil child.

There was no one there.

I glanced about, considered my position and knew suddenly that I had not run. Confusion racked my senses. My feet turned suddenly cold and the dust beneath them shifted as if something evil were writhing in the sand beneath me.

I turned my head slowly, looking at the place where I had last seen the Christ, and he was still there, arms outstretched, waiting for me.

I looked down, no longer confused.

Cold shame washed over me.

Another low moan filled the night, and the moon began to cry; a mournful, soft wailing.

I stared at the four bloodstained nails that lay in the dust at my feet.

I cried with the moon.          

                                                                           End

1 Comment »

  1. Sherry said

    I would love to hear the English Lit class discussing this and all the symbolism. Strangely enough, the story does not leave me feeling lost and abandoned. Jesus is there waiting for me.

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