The Moon Fields

The moon broke through the clouds, and the four of them stood there, frozen, waiting for something to happen. They were in the middle of an open field, and it was as if a spotlight had been trained on them. Suddenly, without warning, their skin grew taut, hardened and split. There seemed to be no explanation at first, however it happened the instant the moonlight crept upon their skin — there was a sharp breath of cold, then numbness, as every bit of moisture within their bodies seemingly was sipped up into the dusty mouth of the moon. Skin turned to leather, turned to dust, turned to smoke, then was inhaled. The process was quick, occurring even before they could move into a final embrace. There were no goodbyes, no final words. Limbs moved, then split, then were taken by the wind. Just before the end, one of them caught a glimpse of the full moon and saw for the first time its true face — ashen cheeks, dead black eyes, pursed pink lips — as it blew the final sharp breath that changed their skin and absorbed their blood and dissolved their bones. They would never know it, and their story would never be told, but the lesson here is that there are certain places the living never should go, and when drifting through the Moon Fields, ill intentions or nay, one shall surely be absorbed.

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