It is quiet when the Moon is a waning crescent. Her stories are of melancholy tragedies, and painful memories. An old man saves up money to visit his grandson for his birthday. The wagon fare had shut down suddenly before his departure, so the old man decided to walk to the sea port. He has a sharp limp and a slow uneven pace. Arriving by the pier at sunset, he sees he missed the ship’s departure. With a heavy, defeated sigh he hobbled down an alley to sleep underneath an old tarp. He would wait until the next ship came. He couldn’t miss his grandson’s first birthday. He wanted to see his family.
A piercing bell rang and woke him. A ship had arrived. He stretched his old limbs and made haste toward the dock. “One old geezer, bound for Rensey Port, please” he muttered to the helmsman. He spent most of his time at sea on the top deck of the ship listening to the waves crash into the hull, and scouring the horizon for land. The ship arrived at Rensey in the early hours of dawn, after 3 days at sea. The old man found a coachman and paid him double price. The coachmen, a young boy in his teens, did not question the money. “What town, sir?” asked the boy.
“Gunroy Township. Just a few miles down this road here” The old man was smiling, beaming for the first time in weeks. By late morning they could see the town church’s steeple. It was Sunday, but no one was at the church. When they arrived at the street corner there were many people gathered outside.
THE MOON & HER STORIES
By: Vito Benanti