Scary Stories

Children of the Moon - Richard Meddleton

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Duration:: 14m
Broadcast on:: 05 Jul 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

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No purchase necessary, VGW Group, could be prohibited by law 18-plus terms and conditions apply. Children of the Moon By Richard Middleton Red by Virgil The boy stood at the place where the part tree stopped and the smooth lawn slid away gently to the great house. He was dressed only in a pair of ragged knicker-bockers and the gaping bust in the shirt so that his legs and neck and chest shone silver rare in the moonlight. By day, he had a mass of rough golden hair, but now it seemed to brood above his head like a black cloud that made his face deathly white by comparison. On his arms, they lay a great heap of gleaming dew at roses and lilies, spoiled of the parkflower beds. Their cool petals touched his cheek and filled his nostrils with aching scent. He felt his own smarting hair in there, where the thorns of the roses had torn them in the dark. But these delicate caresses of pain only served to deepen to him the wonder of the night that wrapped him about like a cloak. Behind him, they had ringed the black woods and over his head, multitudinous stars quivered and balanced in space. But these things were nothing to him. For far, Korsalon, that was spread knee deep with a web of mist, they gleaned for his eager eyes to splendor of a fairy palace. Bread in orange and gold, the lights of the fairy revels shown from a hundred windows and filled him with wonder that he should see what wakeful eyes, the jewels that he had desired so long in sleep. He could only gaze, and gaze as the straining eyes filled with tears and set the enchanted lights dancing in the dark. All his ears that heard no more the crying of the night birds and the quick stir of the rabbits in the break. There fell the strings of far music, the flowers in his arms seemed to sway to it, and his heartbeat to the deep pulse of the night. So and raptured were his senses that he did not notice the coming of the girl. She was able to examine him closely before she called to him softly through the moonlight. Boy, boy! At the sound of her voice, he swung round and looked at her with stuffed eyes. He saw her excited look of her face in her white dress. Are you a fairy? He acts hoarsely. For the night miss was in his voice. No, she said. I'm a little girl. You're a wood boy, I suppose. He stayed silent regarding her with a puzzle face. Who was this little white creature with a tender voice that has slipped so suddenly out of the night? As a matter of fact, the girl continued. I've come out to have a look at the fairies. There's a ring down in the wood. You can come with me if you like wood boy. He nodded his head silently, but he was afraid to speak to her and set off through the wood by her side, still clasping in the flowers to his breasts. What were you looking at when I found you? She asked. The palace, the fairy palace. The boy muttered. The palace, the girl repeated. Why, that's not a palace. That's where I live. The boy looked at her with new awe. If she wore a fairy, but the girl hadn't noticed that his feet made no sound to saw her shoes. Don't throw thorns, prick your feet wood boy. She asked, but the boy said nothing and they were both silent for a while. The girl looking about her keenly as she walked and the boy watching her face. Presently they came to a wide pool where a little tinkling fountain threw bubbles to the hidden fish. "Can you swim?" she said to the boy. He shook his head. "It's a pity," said the girl. "We might have had a bathe. "It would be rather fun in the dark, "but it's pretty deep there. "We'd better get on to the fairy ring." The moon had flung queer shadows across the glade in which the ring lay. And when they stood on the edge listening intently, the wood seemed to speak to them with a hundred voices. The man came upon them suddenly from among the silver birches. He had an app-cycle in his back and his hair was as long as the tramps. That sight of him the girl almost screamed and her hand trembled in the boys. Some instinct made him hold it tighter. "What do you want?" he muttered in his voice voice. "The man was no less astonished than the children. "What on earth are you doing here?" he cried. His voice was mild and reassuring and the girl answered him promptly. "I came out to look for fairies." "Oh, that's right enough," commented the man. "And you?" he said, turning to the boy. "Are you after fairies, too?" "Oh, I see, picking flowers. "Do you mean to sell them?" The boy shook his head for my sister. He said, and stopped up rutly. "Is your sister fond of flowers?" "Yes, she's dead." "The man looked at him gravely." "That's a phrase," he said. "And phrases on a devil." "Who told you that dead people liked flowers?" "They always have them," said the boy, blushing for shame of his pretty thoughts. "And what are you looking for?" The girl interrupted. The man made a mocking grimace and glanced around the glade as if he were afraid of being overheard. "Dreams?" he said bluntly. The girl pondered this for a moment. "And you're a knapsack?" she began. "Yes," said the man. "It's full of them." The children looked at the knapsack with interest, the girl's fingers tingling to undo the straps of it. "What's all they like?" she asked. The man gave a very short laugh. "Ha, very like yours and his, I expect. "When you grow old, there, young woman, "you'll find there's really only one dream possible "for a accessible person. "But you don't want to hear about my troubles. "There is more in your line." He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a flagelet, which he put to his lips. "Listen," he said. "To the girl, it seemed as those lotitudes "had leapt from the pipe "and was dancing round the ring like a real fairy "while Echo came tripping through the trees to join it. "The boy gaped and said nothing. "At last, when the fairy was beginning to falter "and Echo was quite utter breath, "the man took the flagelet from his lips. "Well," he said with a smile. "Thank you very much," the girl said politely. "I think that was very nice indeed." "Oh, boy," she broke off. "You're hurting my hand." The boy's eyes were shining strangely and he was waving his arms in this may. All the wasted moonlight, he cried. The grass is quite wet with it. The girl turned to him in surprise. "Why, boy, you found your voice." After that, the man said greatly as he put his flagelet back in his pocket. "I think I will show you the inside of my knapsack." The girl bent down equally while he loosened the straps but gave a cry of disappointment when she saw the contents. "Pictures," she said. "Pictures," echoed the man dryly. "Pictures of dreams. "I don't know how you're going to see them. "Perhaps the moon will do her best." The girl looked at them nicely and passed the one by one to the boy. Presently she made her discovery. "Oh, boy," she cried. "Your tears are spoiling all the pictures." "I'm sorry," said the boy husky. "I can't help it." "I know," said the man quickly. "It doesn't matter a bit. "I expect you've seen these pictures before." "I know them all," said the boy. "But I have never seen them." The man frowned. "It's the devil," he said to himself. "When boys speak English, "they turn subtly to the girl "who is puzzling over the boy's tears. "It's time you went back to bed," he said. "There won't be any fairies tonight. "It's too cold for them." The girl yawned. "I shall get into a row "when I get back if they found it out. "I don't care. "The moon is fading," said the boy suddenly. "There are no more shadows. "We will see you through to the wood." The man continued and said goodnight. She put his pictures back in his knapsack and then silent me through the murmuring wood. At the edge of the wood, the girl stopped. "You are a wood boy," she said to the boy. "And you mustn't come any further. "You can give me a kiss if you like." The boy did not move but stayed regarding her awkwardly. "I think you're a very silly boy," said the girl. With a toss of her head and she stalked away proudly into the mist. "Why didn't you kiss her?" asked the man. "Her lips will burn me," said the boy. The man and the boy walked slowly across the park. "Now boy," said the man. "Since civilization has gone to bed, "the time has come for you to hear your destiny." "I am only a poor boy," the boy replied simply. "I don't think I have any destiny." "Paradox," said the man. "It's meant to conceal the insincerity of the age, "not to express the simplicity of youth. "But I wonder, you have made phrases tonight." What's our phrases? What's our dreams? What are roses? What in fine is the moon? "Boy, I take you for a moon child. "You hold her pale flowers in your arms. "Hawaii beams have caressed your limbs. "You prefer the kisses of her who lips "to those of that Earth child. "All this is very well. "But above all, you have the music of her great silence. "Above all, you have her tears. "When I play to you on my pipe, "you recognize the voice of your mother. "When I showed you my pictures, "you recall the tales with which she hushed you to sleep. "And so, I knew that you were her son "and my little brother." "The moon has always been my friend," said the boy. "But I did not know that she was my mother. "Perhaps your sister knows it. "The happy dad are glad to seek her for a mother. "That is why they are so fond of white flowers. "We have a mother at home. "She works very hard for us. "But it is your mother among the clouds "who makes your life beautiful, "and the beauty of your life is the measure of your days. "While the boy reflected on these things, "they had reached the gates of the park, "and they still passed a silent march on the high road. "A man was waiting there in the shadows, "and when he saw the boy's companion, "he rushed out and seized him by the arm. "So I've got you," he said. "I don't think I'll let you go again in a hurry." The son of the moon gave a queer little laugh. "Why is Taylor?" he said pleasantly. "But Taylor, you know you're making a great mistake." "Very possibly," said the keeper with the laugh. "You see this boy here, Taylor? "I assure you he is much matter than I am." Taylor looked at the boy kindly. "Tom, you were in bed, Tommy," he said. "Taylor," said the man earnestly. "This boy has made three phrases. "If you don't lock him up, "he will certainly become a poet. "He will set your precious world of sanity ablaze "with the fire of his mother, the moon. "Your palaces will tauter, Taylor, "and your kingdoms become as dust. "I have warned you." "That's right, sir, and now you must come with me." "Boy," said the man generously, "keep your liberty by grace of providence "all men and authority are fools. "We shall meet again under the light of the moon." With dreamy eyes, the boy washed the departure of his companion. He had become almost invisible along the road when, miraculously, as it seemed, the light of the moon broke through the trees by the wayside and lit up his figure. For a moment, it fell upon his head like a halo and touched a knapsack of dreams with glory. Then all was lost in the blackness of night. As he turned homeward, the boy felt a cold wind upon his cheek. It was the first breath of dawn. End of Children of the Moon by Richard Middleton. ♪ High five casino ♪ High five casino is a social casino with real prizes and big Vegas hits at highfivecocino.com. The hottest games right from Vegas and all winnings go straight to your bank account. 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