This writing is for the Writing Group, whose March 21st topic was:
Moon. Take that however you want.So this isn't what I had been intending to write. I was going to write for a story I started years ago for an online Whitewolf contest, but stopped after my story concept didn't get pas the first round. I thought I had stopped writing for it because of disappointment over that and not having the motivation to pick it back up later (especially when other topics/stories became more relevant to me). But as I was thinking on what short scenes I wanted to do for this subject with each of the characters, it become more difficult for me to put together what I had in my mind. Then I hit upon a completely different scene idea which I really liked. But still I couldn't bring it out. This morning I finally realized my overall issue: the story's main plot line had been forced into a direction I hadn't originally wanted, for the sake of the writing contest. So continuing with a story I already felt was in the wrong place just wasn't sitting well with me, even though I could come up with ideas to further it. I couldn't come up with a new plot that would fit well with the Moon scenes I was thinking of for this assignment, so instead I went with something completely different when this idea struck me while procrastinating on this assignment and reading interesting history on the internet.
Like all beings, I do not remember my birth, but I know my Mother. She is beautiful and radiant, and takes good care of me. She shields me from the harmful things that travel around and would mess with me if she wasn't there. She shows me how to weather the bugs that fly into us try to hurt us, but I haven't figured out how to grow the layer of skin she has that keeps most of them from leaving marks on her like they do on me. Mom always keeps a hold of me so I don't go wandering places I don't understand, even when she sleeps. She leaves me in the presence of my Grandmother then too, just to be safe.
I have lots of family, which is good because friends are really hard to come by out here. Mom routinely takes me around to see the other members of our family so I don't feel lonely. Sometimes she and I even play hide and seek with my Grandmother. But I don't get to see my cousins much because Mom's smaller siblings, the ones Grandmother keeps closest to her, didn't have any children, and Mom's largest siblings who had lots of children don't come by all that often. Well, maybe one of Mom's closer siblings had children, but I don't remember much about that Aunt before she died. So if she did, those cousins are long gone too.
Sometimes I worry about Mom dying too. My Aunt spread out after she died, her body simply falling apart in its lifelessness. Over time Mom's features have spread out also. But she's always kept herself together so I try not to think about it much. Besides, her wild white hair has always moved wherever it felt the need to, flowing, curling, twirling, tangling up, and smoothing out, yet it hasn't messed up any of her vibrant blue and greens. I think she lives her entire life that way. So long as I stay within the few rules she's set, I can do whatever I want.
Still, I would like to go exploring myself. To see where those strangers to our neighborhood that go zipping by come from. A few of them do return regularly, so I've learned about what's out beyond home. But learning and seeing for yourself are such different things! The older I get the further away from Mom I manage to go, but even then she has me come back closer every year (which she calls a day) to make sure I'm alright. Sometimes I tug at her a little too hard, but it's just because I get excited and forget what I'm doing. Or to get her attention. Grandmother does the same thing, but with her fire instead of her hold on us.
Very recently Mom has been doing brand new things. I don't know if she's trying to check on me more directly or if she's preparing me for something. But it's the first time I remember her ever throwing tiny pieces of herself at me. Most are smaller than the bugs that leave marks, though Mom's pieces sometimes pinch. Sometimes they don't. And sometimes they just fly by, like she missed me but not on accident. Six times there were even moving pieces out of those that attached to me, and even stranger, they then left me and went back to her! Though those moving pieces were early on in this stage of hers and haven't been back since. Mom's also been throwing pieces of herself out at most of the others in the family too. I wonder what it all means....