I saw it every night of my life, until I was nineteen. I always knew when it was time to slip quietly out of the house and creep into the middle of the field, a blanket in one hand and a lantern in the other. The world would get eerily quiet, long after Mama and Papa and Josie went to bed, and the trees would begin to whisper. They would sway softly, even when there appeared to be no breeze, and the grass would ripple and dance under an invisible conductor, beckoning me to join them in their revelry. But I didn't slip into the field to close my eyes and listen to the song of the trees or to watch and feel the humming of the grass. I went to see it, the thing that had leaped and swirled through my dreams and daydreams.
The thing that would drag me into deep thought at random points in the day, during breakfast when Mama was babbling about her garden or when Josie was trying to interest me in the tricks that she and her little Pichu could perform. I would stare into space for a moment and the images would come flooding back of what I witnessed every night, the silvery-blue and white lights that softly danced at the edge of the forest, reflections hopping from leaf to leaf and from grass blade to blade. The breezes would pick up and the clouds seemed to move quicker overhead, beckoning the creature away from the trees and onto the farthest edges of the field where I crouched.
The tall, diamond-shaped structure on its head would appear first, poking up over the brush. Then the creature would turn its head both ways, checking for witnesses. Did it ever see me when I pressed myself to the damp ground, smothering the lantern? I don't know. If it did, it never gave a sign. It walked more out into the open, its head held high, it's small, bright eyes lifted up to gaze at the moon, as if it were a long-lost friend. The long, violet mane that spread out behind it flowed like a stream, constantly moving and changing position. The glow came seemingly from the core of the creature itself, shining out and bathing the bright blue fur, highlighting the intricate white patterns that twirled themselves around its body.
It would sit in the field for a while, its head always tilted upwards. During that time, I barely moved and breathed as quietly and calmly as possible, my eyes wide as I once again wondered if what I was seeing was real or merely a dream that recurred every night. It couldn't be a dream though. Because when the creature finally got up and stepped gracefully back into the forest, I knew I couldn't be imagining the glow that gradually got lighter until it was no more. I knew I couldn't imagine the longing look in its eyes when it eventually lowered its head to re-enter the forest and bid good-bye to its old friend, the moon.
I would lay there for a while longer, listening as the trees picked up their rustling song again and the grass began to dance once more, albeit a bit more subdued. It was as if the whole field missed the presence of the creature, the comfortable glow of its soul as it held its silent conversation with the stars and their mother. Eventually, though, I would uncover the lantern and slither my way back into the house, back up the stairs, and back into my bed. And then I would dream about the very scene I had just witnessed, except in my dreams the creature spoke to me instead of the moon, and the things it showed me were beautiful. Sprawling mountains, even taller and more vast than the ones surrounding my home of Blackthorn. It showed me the very bottoms of the oceans and allowed me to hear the rumblings of ancient beings that slumbered fitfully, allowed me to catch glimpses of tiny deep creatures that had yet to be discovered. I heard the cries of giant birds as they spun around each other high in the sky, far above the detection of any humans. They flew farther and farther, and they would continue to do so until the end of time.
When I was nineteen, I paused one night before venturing out into the field. Something was very different about this night, but somehow eerily the same. I peeked out of the upstairs window and saw that large, puffy clouds were covering the moon and her children, their twinkling could not be seen on this evening. Would the creature still come if it could not see its beloved? There was one way to find out. As I took my first step outside of the fence and into the grass of the field, the blades seemed to close around my foot. The trees were not singing this night, but they appeared to lean towards me, watching my every movement. Everything was silent except for my soft footfalls in the grass and the sound of my soft breathing, which seemed so incredibly loud to me. I had no blanket with me this evening. Something had told me to leave it.
Halfway through the field, I tossed the lantern aside and felt a weight lifted from my shoulders as the tiny, flickering light inside went out. It was completely dark now except for the grayish glow of the moon trying to escape from her cloud prison. I faced the treeline, standing tall, closer to the forest than I had ever come before in my life. Even in the daytime, I had avoided the leafy refuge for fear that I would desecrate the spot and the creature would no longer come.
I waited for a long time, but there was no silvery glow in the branches of the watchers. Still I stood, though, my arms hanging loosely at my sides as I stared bravely at the biggest mystery I had ever known, the forest and its beautiful protector. Except the protector was nowhere to be seen.
My legs were numb by the time I realized that I was still standing in the field. And the moment I realized it, I saw the faint glow. Could it be? Or was it just a sliver of moonlight that had managed to escape its jailors? No. The glow was getting brighter. The bluish light seemed brighter in the gray-toned night and finally I saw it, the diamond of the creature's head as it shook away the brush. It stepped out completely without looking to make sure the way was safe. My mind was blank. I could not run if I had wanted to, but the truth was that I didn't want to. I just stood there, blinking slowly.
Then it looked up and the small, quick eyes met mine. I felt my eyes widen, but I did not flinch, I did not move. How could I? The creature had me entranced immediately. It tilted its head at me, as if wondering how I mustered up the bravery to stand tall in front of it. It swerved its head up and saw that its queen was trapped in the billowing sky and shut its eyes for a moment, as if paying homage to a fallen comrade. Turning its head back to me, I realized that it was waiting for something. Should I speak? I stammered softly, "Hello.. I'm Malen.." I stopped suddenly, then looked up at the stifled moon. "I am sorry," was all I said, and the creature understood. We were both sorry. But she would be free soon.
The creature turned around as if to walk away but paused just before it disappeared into the brush once again. It spun its head around one last time and fixed its tiny, precious gem eyes on me. It bowed its head deeply, and when I blinked in surprise, it was gone. My mouth dropped slightly and then I stumbled backwards a bit before dashing back into the house, scooping up the now-cold lantern on my way back.
I did not dream that night.
And I did not ever see the creature again. Of course the moon returned, and the trees sang once again, but the creature never emerged again from its den. That was when I was nineteen.
Now I am old, and my memory is not so good. But I still remember the creature and the sharp eyes, its friendship with the moon and its sorrow at its imprisonment. I remember how the trees exalted and the grass shivered in delight for this creature.
And I know that I will soon see it again. It will come for me and show me the beautiful sights once again, the vast mountains and the slumbering ancients in the ocean, the gargantuan birds swirling over our world, or the next world, or a world we've never seen before. Perhaps I will see those worlds. I will go with no lantern and no blanket and perhaps one day the trees will sing of me and the grass will hum happily when I approach.
We will speak with the moon, this creature and I.