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The Man and the Moon by Samantha Edmonds

March 12, 2019

He knew I’d be too large to pull down all at once, so he decided to take me in pieces. He arrived at the top of the mountain with rope and blade, bags and buckets. This close to me, he realized I was not as expected. I was more. He might need bigger buckets, better bags than the 99-cent Kroger reusables. He was surprised to feel my brightness radiated cold, not hot like light traditionally was, but he found he liked it better. I supposed it soothed the burning in his chest.

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In Fiction Tags Samantha Edmonds, The Man and the Moon, fiction

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