Moonstruck
by Asher Cookson
Horrific Scribes Extremity Rating:
Tonight the stars will align. The moon will turn rust red as it crosses over the sun, glowing against the inky sky. As darkness falls the planets will slot into place, and if only for a moment, they will be visible to those wise enough to flee the city lights. The stargazers will breathe in magic, wishing on stars without knowing what wishing really means.
In the North side of the city a woman will lock herself in a bathroom. The dormant dust inside her will hum as it comes alive. It will sing. To her. To the sun, the moon, the stars. It will be deafening.
The woman, Nora, will press her red face to the cool tile, the relief fleeting and far too fickle. Her spider-webbed veins will glow green, the same sickly shade spilling from her mouth as she empties herself into white porcelain.
On the other side of the bathroom door her girlfriend will sit with her back against the wall. Nora’s skin will be toxic to the touch, and all Edita will be able to offer is soft words muffled by the wall between them.
Nora will long for hands in place of words, fingers brushing the damp hair from her forehead and gentle lips on her burning cheeks.
She will take what she can get.
“It’s okay,” Edita will say, “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”
Nora will feel so alone.
She will not share what she feels.
“It’s going to pass soon. We just have to get through the night.”
She will not remind her that this is far from temporary.
Another eclipse will come, and another night will be spent heaving stardust into her toilet. More hours will be wasted curled on the bathroom floor. For weeks her ribs will ache from the strain, and her throat will be raw, and she will repeat this cycle until they put her body into ground. Over and over, she will empty herself until she is hollowed and wonder how long until she has nothing left to give.
The song will crescendo, a violent scream beneath her skin, a secret kept between her and the stars. She will feel the pain to her marrow, all-encompassing and unrelenting. Her whines will turn to whimpers, turn to pleading into her elbow to quiet the sound. She will not let herself be any more of a burden for Edita to bear.
As dawn blooms. she will succumb to exhaustion and collapse into a heap on the floor.
Edita will dutifully speak until her tired eyes fall shut. Powerless and paralyzed, she will twitch herself awake and let her worthless words spill from her mouth.
“It’s okay, Nora. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”
Nora might even believe her.
“It will all be over soon, my love.
Soon soon soon”