HIGH MOON

HIGH MOON

THAT NIGHT FELT UNLIKE THE REST. ALL THE Spirits she knew were asleep -- no, spirits don't sleep, they roam about in New York, for they aren't disturbed by, for they are free from what-they-might-call-as human form manacles, for they have liberties, no restrictions. 

  Might be doing a chore of finding there soulmate? Jacelyn thought. She always thought how on earth people found their soulmates, for she couldn't even find the another sock of the pair. She had heard many of her age claiming they found their soulmate -- she was fifteen -- and the next day those soulmates were fighting and swearing never talking again. Falling sick together and getting hurt or glad together doesn't mean they are soulmates. Or as they say watching one soulmate crying makes the other too shed tears. Almost everyone thought so, but Jacelyn and Jason -- her best friend -- never agreed. They could have explained the crying scene by a relevant reason. One tends to start crying by watching the one next to them doing so. No one never knew why.

   Jacelyn thought all this while she sat cross legged in the backyard, the small backyard of her small home, while a bonfire burned in front her. In the mid summer June, extra heat being added by the bonfire, she should have felt as if she had been swimming across a hot bowl of soup. But despite the surrounding, she felt as if sitting on top of an ice cube. The night was strange. The moon was high, not in the night, but the other way round. The moon was full, still was dim, as if eaten up by a dark gray cloud. "High on weed, eh moon?" Jacelyn mocked the high moon, and realised she was 'the Second Chandler Bing'. 

  In spite of its dimness, the moon cast strange lunar shadows on the horizon. They mostly scared her, but today she felt comfortable, loved as if she belonged with all this, the moon, the lunar power, the stars, the nebulae, the grass, the nature, above all, the dark, the shadows, the everything so angelic in it.

  Talking of the dark, it was the thing that scared the hell out of Jacelyn. She couldn't stay in the dark even for a nanosecond. But today she felt connected to the dark, the shadows, mortality, she felt connected to the SHADOW WORLD. She didn't know what thing dragged the fear of the dark out of her, but it was completely gone. Now it was her favorite. She was in love with the dark. She was now a nyctophile. 

   Jacelyn spent most of her night, shedding tears to the bonfire. She wasn't able to believe that her own sister Calyn, could do this. She had no problem with Chase, but the fact of Calyn not telling her about their commitment made her sorrowful. She shared everything with Jacelyn. She didn't think Neville was wrong, but Calyn should have told Jacelyn such a huge thing in person. But after shedding tears for an hour or two, she realised it was useless. She was pouring knife in her own wound, while Calyn felt nothing. She told herself that Calyn Black cared nothing about Jacelyn Verlac, maybe because Jacelyn was adopted. But she didn't care anymore. Calyn Black can screw herself. 

  Now that Jacelyn thought of sleeping, she didn't feel like doing so. She stood and went inside, the bonfire still burning. She was back within a minute, The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones in her hand.

*******