Ride the Moon: An Anthology

All stories are copyrighted to their respective authors, and used here with their permission. Some works have been previously published, published in other editions or previously performed.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the copyright holder, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

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These stories are works of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in each story are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Acknowledgments
—Tina Moreau & Margaret Curelas

The Secondary 4 Class of Prettygood Park High School
—Claude Lalumière

The Buried Moon
—Marie Bilodeau

The Dowser
—Kevin Cockle

Moon Dream
—Rebecca M. Senese

Tidal Tantrums
—C. A. Lang

With The Sun and The Moon in His Eyes
—A. Merc Rustad

On The Labrador Shore, She Waits
—Krista D. Ball

White Moon
—Theresa Crater

Shara's Path
—David L. Cradock

Small Seven's Secrets
—Billie Milholland

Husks
—Isabella Drzemczewska Hodson

Sunset at the Sea of Fertility
—Tony Noland

Bitter Harvest
—Jay Raven

A Moonrise in Seven Hours—
Lori Strongin

Aloha Moon
—Shereen Vedam

Cherry Blossoms
—Amy Laurens

The Black Mermaid and the Moon
—Chrystalla Thoma

Je Me Souviens
—Edward Willett

Moon Laws, Dream Laws
—Ada Hoffmann

Author Biographies

This is the start of something wonderful. I would like to say thank you to those of you who challenged us, to those who believed and those who didn't, to those who helped and supported us, and especially to our children who we hope will appreciate what we've built one day. It is because of you that this anthology was made and because of you that Tyche Books was born.

~ Tina Moreau & Margaret Curelas

A few minutes before 6 a.m., on the first day of spring 1982, the entire secondary 4 class of Prettygood Park High School gathered at the foot of the Montreal moonbridge, a few blocks west of the Jacques-Cartier Bridge, which at dawn was already bringing the South Shore suburban traffic into the city.

The nearly one hundred students chattered among themselves. Punks, preppies, stoners, freaks, geeks, jocks, brainiacs, squares, loners... all those arbitrary divisions melted away in the anticipation of the journey to come. Mr. Saint-Michael, the math teacher and field-trip coordinator, wended his way through the crowd of teenagers, all of them equipped with camping gear, and took attendance.

Stopping next to a long-haired boy dressed in frayed white jeans, a black T-shirt emblazoned with a blood-red anarchist symbol, a too-large beige business jacket, and mud-encrusted sneakers, the teacher exclaimed, “Mr. Fort!” Mr. Saint-Michael always addressed the students with a formality that was equal parts respect and irony. “How good of you to grace us with your presence today!” The bite was taken out of the sarcastic rebuke by the conspiratorial wink the teacher exchanged with his favourite student.

It was true that Luke Fort was notorious for skipping class. But he also achieved the highest grades in school and had a knack for charming his teachers, who all let him get away with showing up in class sporadically, as long as he was careful not to miss exams or deadlines for handing in assignments. The charm that made him breeze through the academic part of school life did not, alas, work on his peers. Luke wasn't exactly friendless, but he wasn't exactly popular, either.

After Mr. Saint-Michael had walked on, Montague Farmer hissed into Luke's ear, “So, Tofu.” Luke hated that nickname; he wished no-one had ever noticed that he didn't eat meat. Luke didn't even like tofu. “Do you suck him off, or does he prefer to fuck you in the ass?”

Luke tried to ignore the taunt, but he couldn't help turning to sneer at Montague. Although he behaved like a jock, Montague was a short, mousy, shifty twerp, a used-car salesman in a rat's body. And yet, he got invited to all the parties and was dating Blair Jonas, who was right at that moment holding Montague's hand and pointedly avoiding Luke's gaze. Blair was a full six inches taller than Montague and much too pretty to be seen at his arm. At least, that's what Luke thought.

Luke had had a crush on Blair since the previous year, when he'd tutored her in math. They had sat close together; she exuded a peach scent that ensorcelled him. She'd found out about the vegetarianism when she stayed for dinner at his house once. He'd always been careful to keep that detail about himself private. The next day, she'd starting calling him Tofu at school, and the nickname stuck. For some reason beyond Luke's control, his crush had stuck, too.

Luke's train of thought was interrupted by a loud, wince-inducing sound of metal grating against metal: the guardian was opening the moonbridge portal.

Every day he could manage it, just before breakfast and just before dinner, Luke jogged the eight kilometres from his house to the moonbridge, so he could witness this moment—the opening of the portal—and see the guardian. The moonbridge was on a six-hour schedule: open from 6 a.m. to noon, and then again from 6 p.m. to midnight. Most days, the guardian looked more or less the same to Luke: a ten-foot marble giant dressed like a Roman legionary. The most spectacular aspect Luke had ever witnessed was that of a gargantuan thousand-armed snake whose colours changed every time the guardian moved in the slightest. No two people saw exactly the same thing when they looked at the guardian, and on film or video the guardian appeared as a blur. It was the same with moonbridge guardians all over the world.

Today, the guardian appeared to Luke as a winged woman hovering a few feet above the ground. It had long, flowing white hair, wore a dress of white mist, and held a silver caduceus in each hand.

Luke felt a tap on his shoulder. It was his friend Benjamin House, the only one in school who didn't call him Tofu. Benjamin was the secondary 4 class's other teacher's pet. His grades matched Luke's, but Benjamin was a hard worker and assiduous, obedient student with a clean, conservative look, unlike Luke, who ignored most rules and who dressed with clueless randomness, as if fashion of any kind were an utterly alien concept. For the last three years, the teachers and other students had been trying to foster rivalry between the two boys, but, despite their differences, the two enjoyed a relaxed camaraderie, oblivious to everyone's expectations. “Luke, is it true we all see something different?” Benjamin's face had lost all its colour.

“Are you okay, Ben?”

“Tell me what you're seeing, buddy. Tell me you're not seeing what I'm seeing.”

Luke told his friend about the winged woman. “What do you see?”

Benjamin stammered something incoherent, but then managed to collect himself sufficiently to say, “I can't tell you. I don't ... It's too ... Holy! I don't know if I can go through with this.” Ben was shaking, now.

“Not go through...? You mean not take the Moon trip? But, Ben, you have to. You might never get another chance. It's so rare to be allowed through by the guardians ever again. This is our time.”

Absolutely still, Ben stared at the guardian. He whispered, “It's changing.”

Luke said, “Changing? I've never seen the guardian actually change. It never looks exactly the same from one time to the next, but to see a transformation...” Luke, for whom the guardian still appeared as flying woman with wings, became wrapped up in his long-nurtured obsession with the moonbridge and didn't notice his friend's increasing terror.

And then Ben screamed, which silenced everyone, even the Gaul twins, who never seemed to stop muttering to each other. Ben's scream was a horrible thing, a high-pitched screech that froze Luke's heart.

Luke reached out to clasp Benjamin's shoulder. “Ben...” But the instant his fingers brushed the other boy, Ben sped away. Within a few seconds, he was gone from sight.

Mr. Saint-Michael's face betrayed consternation and a tangible tension started buzzing through the assembly, but the teacher lost no time steering the situation back on course. In his loud, theatrical voice, Mr. Saint-Michael addressed the gathering: “We can't let Mr. House's personal drama interfere with this momentous day, which is a once-in-a-lifetime event for you all. Mr. House will just have to live with his own decision.”

Luke, who had been looking forward to this day for his entire life, hung back while the other students started to walk up to the guardian, who scrutinized each student before letting them through and onto the bridge.

Once the procession acquired a momentum of its own, Mr. Saint-Michael walked over to Luke. The teacher spoke in a low, calm voice: “Luke,” hearing the teacher use his given name imbued the moment with a fragile intimacy, “you're not seriously thinking of not going? I know Benjamin is your good friend, but this is too important. Mr. House would not want you to stay behind on his account. It would only increase his distress for him to know that he had caused you to not undertake this journey.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Saint-Michael. I'm worried about Ben, but there's no way I'm not travelling to the Moon this morning. Still, I wish he'd come back. I think I'm dithering because I want to see if he'll return. I want him come.”

“There's almost no-one left. You should get in line, Mr. Fort.”

“Yes, sir. Are you coming, too? Sometimes, the guardian lets people go through again.”

“No. I undertook the journey when I was your age. This is for young people, Mr. Fort. It wouldn't be right for me to risk interfering. Besides, there's no guarantee the guardian would let me through, so why even entertain the notion?” For a moment, Mr. Saint-Michael appeared lost in a daydream, but he abruptly snapped out of it. “Enough of that. Go now, Mr. Fort. Go!”

Luke nodded at the teacher and walked toward the bridge. Before stepping up to the guardian's post, he scanned the horizon one final time, hoping to see his friend, but Benjamin had not returned.

Luke now stood facing the guardian. From this close, Luke experienced a disconcerting, overlapping double vision: the guardian as a winged woman hovering a few feet in the air but also—at the same time and occupying the same space—as a giant mechanical construct made up of gears and hydraulics whose full geometry defied the limits of his perception. Luke tried to concentrate on that second image, convinced that it was the guardian's true mien, convinced that seeing the guardian for what it really was would grant him an understanding heretofore denied him. But before another moment had elapsed, the guardian's appearance solidified into that of the winged woman, who motioned for the boy to step onto the moonbridge.