The night the moon fell, I was taking a late night stroll in a large field with my beloved. The air was soft, the temperature was perfect. The lighting was just right.
After a long day, it was just what we needed. Conversation was absent but the silence welcome. With our hands entwined, we strolled across the plain trying to release the day.
As we settled in on a patch of cushiony clovers to watch the night sky the moon began to grow. The surface appeared to change. No longer rock, but skies of clouds covering masses of gray. To our shock, the growth increased exponentially. The speed alarming.
It wasn’t until the Earth trembled and quaked that it became clear; the moon had fallen to Earth as a child would into its mother’s arms. Dust and debris filed the air framing the living moon with the deduction of its mother.
My beloved and I looked to another, but words couldn’t find their way as the rumbling continued. So we just stood there, watching with concern and wonder at this impossible event unfolding before us.
Your Beloved Author,