By Madeline Deluca

On nights like these, I stare into the night sky and ponder the thoughts of those that do just as I. Does the infinite black void provide a sense of relief? Does the thought of something beyond our kind make them shiver? Do the twinkling stars lull them to a safer, happier time?

The full, white moon glares back at me. I cannot deny, I am drawn to it. It’s impossible to look away, to lose at his game.

His glow has the dreariness of weak, unnatural hospital lights. His dark spots are like eyes, watching me from all directions. He’s only a speck of dust, and yet I know he’ll always think he’s above me, beyond me. He dares me, teases me to close my eyes. To fall asleep. Someone must look away first, and it won’t be me.

Soon enough, the moon is drifting away, making room for the ball of fire no one dares to stare down. I am finally able to close my eyes.

What a coward the moon is.