Happy Thanksgiving! Here’s a new piece of flash fiction. 🦃
Harvest Moon
When the leaves turned gold, I decided it was time.
“If you look in the mirror, Megan,” my brother, Tom, said, “all you’re going to see is a werewolf!”
“Get out of here,” I said, pushing him out of my room and shutting the door.
Then I turned to my window and opened it.
A beautiful, amber-colored full moon shone in the sky overhead. Local legend said that if you looked into a mirror in the light of the harvest moon that you would see the face of your true love.
I’d had enough of waiting, and I decided tonight was the night—I’d find out who it was, even if I had to use an unorthodox method.
I sat on my windowsill and gazed into the handheld mirror from my dresser. I looked expectantly at first, but I didn’t see any face in the glass other than my own.
The cold autumn air swirled around me, but I continued to look.
I was resolved not to give up.
I must have dozed off, and for a moment I thought I saw a face—green eyes flecked with brown, a determined chin, eyebrows that were black and just a little too thick.
I started awake abruptly.
“No,” I said to myself. “Just no. There’s no way my true love is Edgar Beck.”
I looked into my mirror and saw with relief that it was still blank.
“Just a dream,” I murmured.
I quickly shut the window and put the mirror back.
The next morning I was in school wading through the crowded halls to my locker. I said hi to my friends and told no one of my experiment the previous evening—it was just too embarrassing.
As I headed to my first class, I spied a familiar face. It was Edgar, and he was headed straight for me.
Soon Edgar was standing right in front of me, blocking my way. Edgar—class clown, prankster, and someone I didn’t know very well at all.
He was looking at me expectantly.
“Hey, Megan,” he said.
I made no reply. There was no way Edgar could know I’d had a dream about him—I’d told no one. He continued to stare at me, and I felt my face flaming.
It was all just too awkward.
“So,” he said. “It’s me.”
“It is you,” I said.
As he continued to look at me, his gaze faltered. I saw uncertainty, nervousness in his eyes. A faint blush began to creep up his face.
“I’m sorry,” Edgar said. “But I just have to tell you this. It’s not a joke—I promise.”
Something in his tone caught my attention, and I waited.
“It’s just that I heard this old tale,” he said. “About looking into a mirror under the harvest moon. I heard you could see your true—”
He lowered his voice. “Your true love.”
I was startled to hear him say that, and he looked at me earnestly.
“It’s just that I did it last night,” he said. “And I saw you.”
I looked up into his eyes—saw the green flecked with brown—and I realized that there were greater depths in them than I had ever imagined.
“It’s no joke,” Edgar said. “I saw you, and I wanted you to know that.”
I took in his eyes, his determined chin, his black eyebrows that were just a little too thick, and I felt as if I were seeing him for the very first time.
“I saw you, too,” I said.
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Thanks very much for reading!
Catherine Mesick 