One cool autumn night I decided to take a walk beneath the Harvest Moon, while doing so, I met a rather peculiar gentleman dressed in fine attire that seemed to echo a style of his own. We greeted each other as one does, with kind and pleasant greetings. He told me his name was “Count Steambolie Werewolffin Punkerton.”
What an unusual name and fellow, I thought to myself, as I responded to his introduction. We continued to chat about the evening’s weather, the turning of the season, and most of all the beautiful full moon, to which he displayed much enthusiasm.
Count Steambolie Werewolffin Punkerton knew much about the Harvest Moon telling me of its use for the farmers’, who’d be taking up their fields under its light in the night’s sky, also how the Harvest Moon was the closest full moon to the autumnal equinox.
Soon, after much discussion of the Harvest Moon, the Count interjected, “But my favorite moon of them all is the Hunter’s Moon!” His eyes, full of moonlight, began to take on a deep, golden glow, as he told me of the Hunter’s Moon. “The Hunter’s Moon follows the Harvest Moon. It is called the Hunter’s Moon because it is particularly bright and long in the sky...giving hunter’s a full view of fattened prey out in the dying grass fields. This is the season’s hunt that will grace their dinner tables of further nights to come, into the deep autumn and winter season. The Hunter’s Moon is also referred to as the Travel Moon and thus, the Dying Grass Moon, but I much prefer to call it the Hunter’s Moon.” As he said this, his lips turned up with a slight devilish grin, at which moment I could have sworn I’d seen a very long tooth resembling a wolf’s fang.
My heart began to quicken at the thought of that tooth and I was fast to end our conversation with a, “Thank you for your time Count! But I’m afraid I must be going.” Afraid, I most certainly was...something was telling me to find my way home. As I was leaving, the Count tipped his moss-green velvet hat to me and remarked, “I do hope our paths cross again soon.”
And on that note, I turned to make haste toward home. As I reached to open the door...off in the distance, drifting on the night’s cool air, I heard the faint utterance of howling, which sent chills down my spine. The howling seemed to grow louder with every shaking turn of the door’s knob…“Hurry!” I whispered under my breath. “Hurry up and open!” Finally the door sprang to life and I threw myself inside, afterwards, quickly slamming the door shut behind me.
Later, tucking myself into bed, the cool sheets warming around my feet, my breath slowing into a quiet rhythm of softness and a feeling of lightness falling over my body...I had finally begun to feel safe, while drifting off into the night’s arms of moonlight. Outside the wind started to howl. The leafless oaks outdoors, swayed back and forth as if they were dancing about at the Harvest Moon Ball. The howling wind made me think of the Count, his words echoing in my mind, “I do hope our paths cross again soon.”
As my eyes became weary with sleep, slothfully, I whispered…“I do not hope our paths ever cross again….”
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