Gaze of the Full Moon
Photo by Brigitte Elsner on Unsplash
A persistent thudding noise tugged at the dimmest reaches of his consciousness, pulling him relentlessly towards the surface. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly with a groan.
"Mr. Evans. Mr. Evans."
A girl's voice. Clare, Juliet? Sounded more like Clare. Damn! More problems to deal with. Pulling on a dressing gown he stumbled through the small hallway connecting his bedroom to the front door.
Two girls stood in the corridor outside his flat.
"What's the problem?" he asked.
"Its Debbie on the floor above. Its 2 am and she refuses to turn her music down."
Yes, he could just hear it, a thumping bass that pulsated through solid concrete floors and walls. He was also aware of another rhythm, of warm breath and pale skin, and glimmering moon light. A rhythm that grew, uncoiled, stiffened.
He hesitated in front of the door. The pulsing music pressed against him, challenging his resolve. He knocked and waited. The door opened. The throbbing waves reached out and pulled him in. He was dimly aware of strewn clothes on the narrow bed; the bright moon light streaming through the open window. She stood naked before him.
He ran, past partially opened doors and curious prying eyes, down the stairs and out into the night. Keeping to the shadows he made his way to a group of trees. Concealed within its darkness, his hands crept between the folds of his gown, his eyes feasting feverishly on her naked silhouette, displayed unashamedly to the gaze of the full moon.
From a vantage point high up in the heavens the Monkey King sits cross-legged on a delicate wisp of cloud. The moon is full, bathing the land below in a silvery glow.
Far below, nestling in a valley hidden in the jagged peaks of the Western Mountains, lies a crystal lake; the home of the most beautiful nymphs in the world. With one hand the Monkey King scratches himself absentmindedly as with mounting excitement his eyes rove from one exquisite nymph to another.
The Monkey King picks out the nymph he wants. Near the edge of the water walks, no, floats the prettiest nymph he has ever seen. She is dressed in a scintillating, gossamer gown that teases the moonbeams, only to scatter them delightfully into the dark shadows. The Monkey King twitches his nose excitedly. This is going to be a better night than he had thought.
The Monkey King swoops down, a dark shape diving out of the luminous moon, his shadow skimming over the surface of the lake causing the terrified nymphs to scatter in all directions. He heads straight for his prey, who stands petrified, unmoving, her hands covering her opened mouth. The Monkey King takes hardly any notice of the guards rushing towards him. He is the most powerful immortal in the realm and he easily brushes them aside. Scooping up the nymph with one powerful arm he flies swiftly away from the lake.