With a sturdy wooden ladder propped against the midnight sky, he climbed high into the clouds and plucked it out. He tucked the moon safely under his arm like a soccer ball and climbed the ladder, gripping the footholds firmly on the way down.
Though its silvery radiance forced him to squint, he never wavered. His feet eventually hit the concrete pavement, dense and hardened with safety.
He handed her the moon.
Rays of moonlight trickled down over his hands and dripped on the floor. They passed over his skin like a warm summer breeze, tempting him.
He gave her the moon anyway.
Her eyes glinted the colour of steel as she took the moon hungrily and held it in a suffocating embrace.
She barely let go of it, cradling the moon in her arms, with a gentle smile on her glossy lips.
He beamed, for he never saw her this happy since...
Realisation struck him, but there was nothing he could do.
Or was there?
He didn't bother with an alternative. Either way, the moon would return.
She twirled around with the moon in her grasp, leaping and dancing to her own little rhythm. Her lovely black braids, twined with a silver ribbon, spun with her. Moon rays dripped carelessly in puddles around her. Yet, not long after they splashed onto the ground, they evaporated into the deep blue sky.
He stared as the spherical moon grew narrower, then into a crescent, until it was no thicker than a stick.
Discovering her time was sliding away, she looked helplessly at him, then at the moon.
With her face basked in the illuminating moonlight, she held the moon out letting it sublime into silvery clouds. Wordlessly, she watched the wisps of silver cloud drift into the air.
Then, she stood there, for a long time, swallowed by the dark shades of twilight.
"Will you bring the moon down again next month?" She shot him a question, with an embedded tone of expectance.
He didn't reply her.
After all, he couldn't keep doing this over and over every month. The fear of tumbling down the ladder corroded his bravery each time he retrieved the moon.
So why did I do it? He wondered. No one forces me to.
He figured out why.
"Well?" She asked again, this time kinder.
Surprise diffused in, widening her chocolate irises and opening her little lips slightly.
"You see," He began. "I used to think the moon could be anyone's. I could take it from the sky for you and me to admire, but--but, now..."
Her disappointment was settling in. He had to explain quickly.
"You are my moon." He blurted. "I figured that every month, I wasn't admiring the moon. I was admiring you."
Her face was indifferent now. He couldn't tell her emotions. Did he say something wrong?
"But if--if you still want the moon, I'll get it for you then."
Silence overlapped. For a while, she didn't say a word. A finger positioned under her chin, she considered his words, feeling their strengths and weighing their truths.
"If I'm the moon, do you know what that makes you?"
"The night sky."
He was confused.
"Why?" He inquired.
Irritated, she sighed and told him.
"The sky is the reason why the moon is in full radiance each month. It gives the moon the space it needs to cast its powerful rays, and not get all drippy here."
He opened his mouth but she held her hand up.
"Besides the moon likes the sky. It's the reason why it keeps returning to it." She shrugged, and dropped her arms limply.
A warmth flowed into his cheeks. It felt like the moon's rays, only hotter.
"We should get going though," She grinned at him, taking his hand and dragging him off the path.
I really like the metaphor for love! You wrote it very well, and It's so cute!