Rosa & La Luna Fair

She looked out at the dark chocolate sky, listening to the silent road with it’s murmured echo of long passed traffic. Where had everyone gone? Little by little the lights had gone out all around and a deathly still enveloped the valley. Tonight there were no stars, even the moon lay behind a thick curtain, casting eerie chinks of silver light over the rooftops with each breath of wind.

Tired of hearing the blood whisper in her ears, bored of counting ever familiar sheep, Rosa had slipped from her shipwreck of a bed and was now to be found curled in the window seat wrapped in Grandma’s old paisley shawl.
Her restless legs burned with irritation, impatient for stillness, yet yearning the freedom of morning. She wondered if this was how it felt to be the last person alive on earth. Solitary. Bereft of the comfort of another living soul.
Rosa’s gaze shifted to the neon figures on the bedside clock. Had time stopped? Had minutes become hours, the hours days?

Hugging the shawl up under her chin she peered back into the dark valley below. The mist swirled menacingly over the hushed river, trees disappeared or seemed to change shape adding a deathly charm.

And then they came. One by one, like bright smiling children. The stars. How clever she thought, smiling up into their twinkling faces in the inky sky. She watched them dance above her, rapt. Soon their wild play became more subdued.

She was finally here, stately and unhurried. La Luna Fair, Grandma’s name for this regal beauty of the night. The everlasting soul of an Egyptian princess banished to the heavens to smile forever down upon us. Igniting the souls of poets and painters with her ageless grace.

La Luna bathed the whole valley in her warm silver light. Rosa held her breath, it was like she was in a black and white movie. Everything for miles was painted in a rich array of grey and silver, twinkling under a light frost. She wanted to run down the garden, over the fields to her secret tree and see all this beauty from high in the top.

Time was on the march. La Luna Fair was fading. In her wake, a train of of blue and mauve warming the darksome sky. The stars were gone in now too.
Rosa’s eyes were heavy, but her heart was as light as the approaching morning air. She watched warm pinks and peaches merge with the ever softening blue horizon. Saw in the warm yellow promise of a brand new day in sleepy wonderment, drifting back beneath the waves of her rumpled bed to claim a few hours sleep before the dawn chorus.

© FCS 2008

Rosa & La Luna Fair


Scotland, United Kingdom

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 3

Artist's Description

Written the wee small hours after sleep refused to appear.
Entered the land of nod soon after completing!

Artwork Comments

  • Lisa  Jewell
  • VelvetGirl
  • artyfifi
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