They said it was a blue moon. A rare event. The second full moon in the same month. Wasn’t supposed to happen again for years. I looked at it, hanging in the sky. Anything but blue. Sucker looked just as white to me as it always had. No blue at all. “Another one of those social customs I just don’t understand.” I sighed.
I was walking again. In the dark. It was one of the ways I dealt with psychological pain. Walking. Until I just went numb, and couldn’t feel a damn thing. That always gave me the space I needed to think. To rest. To forget. So I could let my aching heart, and wounded soul heal.
Then, I got to the house with the steam-punk style, robot looking dogs in the front yard. House had a sign on it, said, “Beware of dogs.” Yeah. Right. Like those piles of junk could actually move. That’s when it hit me. The idea. “What if I wrote a story about them coming to life every time there’s a full moon?”
‘Course, it would totally ignore the laws of physics. I mean, piles of scrap metal that came to life every 28 or so days? Yeah, right. Lots of reality in that one. But, maybe it was time to write something fantasy. Something not real. Something fun. I thought about that for a while. Robot dogs, chasing cats. Terrorizing muggers and petty thieves. Trying to have sex with real dogs. Whatever. Hell, I was throwing out the laws of physics. I might as well throw out all the laws. Make it where anything could happen.
Yeah, OK. So, the idea was a lot like the idea of werewolves. You know. Where some guy turns into a wolf every full moon, and hunts down people, and eats them. Or maybe some girl turns into a wolf, and goes after the human men that have hurt her during her life. That kinda thing. But, these weren’t werewolves. They were robot, steam-punk dogs. I thought that just might be weird enough to write about.
Since that night, under the blue moon, I make sure I take a walk when there’s a full moon. Hell, I even get in the car, and drive someplace I’ve never walked, just to explore the place. And get ideas. I tell people, “That blue moon started it. Put a spell on me somehow. So that I have to walk around, looking for ideas to write about, in the middle of the night when there’s a full moon. I don’t think I’ll be released from that spell until the next blue moon.”
Can you believe people actually believe that crap?
I wrote this in response to the Menage Monday challenge, hosted by Cara Michaels. As before, I’m ignoring word limits for now. Letting myself explore ideas, and writing. Letting myself be creative. There are always plenty of entries in the challenge. And they are always fun to read. Go have fun. Read all the entries this week.