The Moon was to Blame

The moon was to blame

I never felt love. I could believe in such a thing either. But i don’t blame the moon for that. I blame my parents.
My father was a raging alcoholic, my mother a crackhead wh**e. He would arrieve home drunk, looking for a punching bag. I learned to embrace that role.

You see, a bad punching bag moves, squirms, avoids hits. A bad punching bag makes daddy angrier, more dangerous, stronger. A good punching bag stays still. A good punching bag wobbles when you hit it, but it never runs away. Daddy has his fun and gets bored quick.

My mom, on the other hand, was harder to please. A flaming river of insults escapes her, searching anything to make miserable and to destroy hopes. Her tounge was her shield against herself, against the mirror. The mirror showed premature wrinkles and a discusting fleshy body. Therefore, she projected her hate into me.
Words like ‘pig’ ‘filth’ ‘b***h’ ‘a**less wh**e’ ‘white trash’ ‘common f****r’ came out he
mouth as easy as diarhea. She once called me ‘son of a b***h’ , but I laughed so hard daddy beat the c**p out of me.

So mommy and daddy never gave their babygirl none of the good stuff some call love. Well I didn’t find any love in the ‘hood either.Got me r***d at 12, then at 15 again. Didn’t tell dady a thing, fearing he might take it out on me. Got preggy from the second r**e, aborted before anyone noticed. Dumped school at 14, tried some mary jane, ended up with LSD and Cyprox. Never got a boyfriend, just f**k buddies. That was until I met Kiev.

It was by the time I started talking at the moon. It might sound crazy, but I had conversations with her. We talked for hours about our dreams, hopes, problems… She was a wise old woman. She barely agreed with me, and she constantly told me to improve my lifestyle. She was the one who told me Kiev would love me. “But only if you let him. And only if you do what I say.”

He came to me hidden under shy eyes. He barely talked, barely was accompained and most of all, barely seemed alive. You could see him whispering to himself, mood varying by whisper. He was mad, and I was madly in love.

He tried do avoid me at times, but i wouldn’t let him. I would chase him , look for him, find him, be with him. He loosend up with me. He revealed his inner mechanisms. And i was not dissapointed. He was a beautifully complex machine, a tangle of personalities and emotions. Most girls would hate a guy with multiple personalities; but not me. That only made him more precious to me! I had not one boyfriend, but six or seven (I never knew how many since some personalities appeared only once or twice). His looks would tell me who he was today. His looks; and the moon.

You see, i did not abbandon the moon. I actually gained the sun. They would give me advice, each in their corresponding time. They would tell me his location, tell me what he did! She knew what to say, and where to say it! They told her who he was; whether Samwell or Johny or Jack or Esther. The moon would tell her and so would the sun.

Yet one day the moon brought her horrible news.

“Kiev has died” The moon to me said ” and Luther rules for Kiev is now dead”

I cried, and I screamed, and i found no relief. For Luther was cruel and in her loyalty had no belief.

The moon said to her “Hush, don’t cry my child. For I know the secret to revive your love. Yet you must trust in me, and trust in my wiseness. You must do what I say and follow each step.”

Yet sunrise was on me, and soon the moon was gone. She whispered what I must do, yet i heard naught.

The sun now apeared, a grin on his face. Apparently the sun knew not of my fate. I told to him all, with tears in my face. He listened to me, as he always does, never twice asking me to pause. And after of my sadness he learned the cause, he said to me: “My love, the solution is simple, and yet it is hard. You must kill him my friend. And I promis you that Kiev will come back. I am father of life, and his I will again bestow.”

Yet I dared not for I loved him too much. Days passed, and I dared not speak with the sun or the moon.

Yet news came to me, from my televition set. Luther had gone mad, and killed fifty people. I couldn’t take it, so i decided to bring Kiev back. The moon and the sun, they heard me both. For at that moment, there was a knock on the door!

I opened the door, and who was there, if not Luther? I kissed his lips and told him to follow me. There was a dark and starry sky, yet there was no moon. I took him to the shack where dad had his tools. We had gone there before, looking for warmth inside each other’s skins.He took of my shirt, and undid my bra. He took off my pants and riped my p*****s off. His hands frantically rubbed all my body. His fingers found my insides, and they rubbed to hard. I closed my eyes, thinking of this as a third r**e. Yet soon he was over, he panted and got up. I got up after him, aproached from the back. I put my hand on his chest, as I hugged him from behind. Tears ran down my eye as i remembered what had to be done. “I’m sorry”, I muttered; my voice choked with pain.

“Sorry for what, babe?” Answered to me Kiev. Yet i noticed too late, and the knife was already in his chest.

I cried and I screamed!


The moon was to blame….

and so was the sun…