Wednesday, 25 November 2009


He went to the house where the moon lived. She lay upstairs, sleeping on a bed made of ivory and moths’ wings. He climbed the bone staircase, kissed her white paper mouth, and left.
Nothing changed in the house, but after he left, the night glowed a bright, blood red.

© 1997 Telegraph Group Limited

This piece was Highly Commended in the Daily Telegraph & Arvon Foundation's Mini Sagas competition, 1997.

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