/   /  By Emma Birches
Stone Soup Magazine
September/October 2006

Bella Shraiman

The clock struck twelve. Everybody was asleep. Everybody, except for me. As the chimes resonated throughout the house, I soundlessly threw back the covers and crept out of bed, not bothering to put on my shoes or throw on a jacket. I tiptoed out into the hallway, the rug muffling my footsteps. Down into the kitchen, the spotless white tiles glowing eerily in the darkness, and out the back door, shutting it carefully behind me.

Moonlight looking at the moon

Moon, in all her splendor sailed through the sky, drifting serenely with her retinue of stars

The cool grass tickled my bare feet, dampening them with the midnight dew that glistened in the moonlight. I surveyed my surroundings. Beyond the little yellow home where slept my family, rose the mountains, majestic as they stood, green and black, like pillars supporting the vault of blue velvet that was the sky.

To the right was the cliff, falling steeply down to the beach and ocean below. The distant lapping of the waves and the soft whispering of the wind as it swept the waters filled my mind and soul, a sweet lullaby, lulling the world to sleep. The moon lit a silver path across the ocean, a roadway to the heavens.

And up above it all was the night. Moon, in all her splendor, sailed through the sky, drifting serenely with her retinue of stars, amongst the fleecy clouds, now a hazy purplish-gray in the darkness, circling in the endless orbit, which forms the core of life itself.

I must have been a strange sight as I stood there, head tilted up, arms reaching to the unreachable, hair floating behind me in the cool night breeze, glowing in an of it all. I crept back to bed, drunken unearthly light, in my blue plaid pajama with life and dreamt a dream of dreaming pants and white tank top, feeling a part dreams.

Moonlight Bella Shraiman

Bella Shraiman, 11
Goleta, California

Moonlight Jena Ritchey

Jena Ritchey, 13
Albuquerque, New Mexico

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