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The Moon Flower

The Moon Flower

2 mins 250 2 mins 250

I stared up the rocky path, I had climbed it many a year ago, spending the day chasing after butterflies and beetles. A few days ago, on the other side of the island, I was enjoying a rare meal, when I overheard a conversation that led me here. The herb store’s owner was telling his friend that there were rumours of the Moon Flower being in bloom this week. 


Dawn had barely begun when I started hiking up the familiar path fringed with wild flowers aplenty. On the way I picked anything that caught my attention; a coloured stone, small berries, gnarled root, feather, placing them in one of my coat’s pockets. Soon, the sun’s light faded away and fireflies emerged by the dozens. Using the small cracked jar I found last week to capture the fireflies for light, I continued moving, not wanting to miss an event that occurred in the light of the first full moon of the spring season every four years. 


I had taken but a dozen steps when a bat flew out, causing to trip and fall on my side. I went rolling down the incline, brambles pricking my clothes as I shielded my head as much as I could. Suddenly, my foot snagged against a root and I stopped moving. The glass jar went flying out of my hand and landed somewhere to my right with a splash. Surprised, I looked up to see the clear water of the mountain lake shining under the moon. Remembering the flower, I stood up with a groan of pain, hobbling towards the edge of the water to watch the rare occurrence. 


It was said that those who saw the Moon Flower in bloom would be blessed with good fortune, and it was easy to see why. The flower slowly opened under the moon light. The petals’ inky black and navy blue faded to an angelic white, shot through with streaks of wine red. The sight was so ethereal, even the birds stopped singing. Moments later, it began to close, the petals withering and falling down. My heart was full of joy for having witnessed it, and the birds started their song once more.


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