Daniel pried his son\u2019s grip from the windowsill. \u201cI told you to stay down,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s not safe.\u201d Gnarled impressions of carpet pressed into Daniel\u2019s bare calves beneath William\u2019s weight. They sat on the floor, William in his lap, tucked in the shadows behind the sleeper sofa. The full moon\u2019s light shone through the windows despite blinds, curtains, pillows, and furniture.<\/p>\n
How many days? He\u2019d lost track. More than twenty.<\/p>\n
Daniel stroked his son\u2019s soft black hair. William\u2019s breaths were quick, shallow. Emerging from the basement was risky, but Daniel couldn\u2019t see Susan from the basement. She\u2019ll be back soon. His wife had run after Annabelle, who\u2019d escaped. She promised.<\/p>\n
William\u2019s feverish, first-grader eyes looked up at Daniel, then kept rolling until white. \u201cThe moon wants to see me.\u201d The boy jerked in a near-seizure, back locked in an arch.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know son,\u201d Daniel said, embracing William tighter, biceps aching from days of restraint. \u201cBut the moon isn\u2019t good for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isn\u2019t good for anyone. What did they call it? Supramoon. Fucking thing wouldn\u2019t set, wouldn\u2019t dim, wouldn\u2019t let the damn sun come out. Just shine and shine and\u2014<\/p>\n
Gunshots.<\/p>\n
Screams in the street.<\/p>\n
Sometimes the screams cut short. Sometimes they didn\u2019t. Daniel couldn\u2019t help but listen to the woman\u2019s long wail\u2014a police siren from the throat blaring an emergency that couldn\u2019t be undone. There were silvery-skinned prowlers in the streets\u2014nightcrawlers snatching moon-fevered children who chased the sky. A week ago, Daniel saw the neighbor\u2019s twins, Reggie and Regina, break through their living room bay windows and run into the streets, heedless of the blood pouring from their arms and faces. The nightcrawlers grabbed the children, whisked them away into the sky, lost in the light.<\/p>\n
Daniel spied a dented, unopened can of Diet Coke on the lopsided IKEA coffee table. Snack-sized pretzels and overturned plasticware littered the carpet. They never did get to watch the Superbowl. Did the Seahawks win? They probably lost. Everything was lost. He wished Susan and Annabelle would come back.<\/p>\n
No\u2014no more wishes.<\/p>\n
Wishes were dangerous. Wish upon a star. Never again.<\/p>\n
William squirmed in his lap. Daniel quietly hummed William\u2019s favorite song from Pinocchio. They sat together for a while, William struggling, Daniel humming and clinching until William finally settled, exhausted. But William wouldn\u2019t sleep\u2014couldn\u2019t sleep now. The moon\u2019s lure was too strong. Daniel didn\u2019t dare sleep either. He stared at the Diet Coke. Diet. Susan and her fucking diets. He wanted sugar, but at least the soda had caffeine.<\/p>\n
Daniel leaned slowly, carefully, arm outstretched, grasping. The can was just out of reach. He shifted, leaning on one hip. The can spun clockwise against his fingertips. So close.<\/p>\n
William erupted violently, flailing elbows and knees. Off balance, Daniel fell backward. \u201cWilliam!\u201d He managed to snag his son\u2019s shirt, but William pulled away, ripping out of it and Daniel\u2019s one-armed grasp.<\/p>\n
Daniel froze.<\/p>\n
William\u2019s skin shined moonlight. The boy ripped the barricade aside and smashed the window, silver running from the cuts.<\/p>\n
\u201cWilliam,\u201d Daniel whispered, terrified.<\/p>\n
William turned. In place of eyes, perfect visages of the moon stared at Daniel. Then the boy leaped out the window, squeaky voice singing the lullaby into the night. <\/p>\n
Phillip E. Dixon is an English Professor from Las Vegas. He holds an MFA in Writing from Lindenwood University, speaks lousy German to his two cats, and spends his rent money on coffee as a good addict should.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Daniel pried his son\u2019s grip from the windowsill. \u201cI told you to stay down,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s not safe.\u201d Gnarled impressions of carpet pressed into Daniel\u2019s bare calves beneath William\u2019s weight. They sat on the floor, William in his lap, tucked in the shadows behind the sleeper sofa. The full moon\u2019s light shone through the …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107907,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14,20109],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-140180","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-publications","category-tcl-46-winter-2023","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140180","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107907"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140180"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140180\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140181,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140180\/revisions\/140181"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140180"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140180"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140180"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}