The Girl On the Moon [#Watty2015]

Chapter 7: Samuel Thomas

 To be honest, I never entirely believed the stories. They just gave me a reason to stay away from the dark side of the moon, a reason to fear the shadows lurking behind me.

 "He doesn't eat children!" Rowan outbursts, her olive eyes burning with an angry passion. "And I don't think he captured me! He may have lied to me about me being his daughter, but he'd never willingly hurt another soul! Maybe, that's why he lied, he didn't want to hurt me. What do you think of that, huh, Samuel Thomas?"

 Momentarily, I stare at her, humor bubbling inside my throat. Laughter breaks open my lips, escaping from my every breath. After I calm down to but slight giggles, I begin to explain. "This is ridiculous. Ab-so-lutely ridiculous!" Mimicking an announcer, I drew back my shoulders, "And next up for totally believable stories!" I stuck my arm in front of Rowan's face. "Pinch me. I definitely fell asleep at the ceremony. Just a little pinch."

 With no hesitation, no guilt displayed on her features, she digs her nails into my wrist. Shaking her off while simultaneously cradling my forearm, I wince. "So, maybe not a dream."

 "That was fun!" She grins–slightly manically. "Can I do it again?"

 "How about. . ." I pretend to consider it. "Heck no! That hurt!" I rub my arm again and grimace again. The pain stings on my forearms, red marks clearly visible.

 "Snip snap, that's some horrible crap," she grumbles before adding pointedly, "It was your idea."

 I raises a skeptical eyebrow, which she quickly returns. "What did you just say?" I question, unsure how else to respond to such a statement. To say the least, Rowan was definitely. . .entertaining.

 She repeats herself slowly and deliberately, as if I was mentally impaired. "Snip. Snap. That's some horrible crap. Are you deaf or somehow injured in the hearing area?" She gestured to her own ear dramatically. "I was pretty sure I articulated."

 "And I am pretty sure that nobody says that."She rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath that sounds like, "And the sass-master keeps her crown." I stare at her before returning to the discussion. At least now I was sure that I wasn't dreaming.

 "So you've been living out the last ten years with the Man on the Moon. Didn't you ever wonder about over here? Did you even remember this village? What about me–and of course, the other children too. Even I still remember us playing when we were little, and I can barely remember what my breakfast was! You were one of my best friends." I can hear hurt mingling into my voice, that this small girl forgot her childhood friend, the memories of the younger us. She shrugs, looking away from me. I take a deep breath and force a fake smile. "Anyways, even if you don't remember anyone, you have to tell your parents you're still alive! They miss you, you know."

 A stoic wave brushes over her face. "They-they didn't raise me. They aren't really my parents. The Man on the Moon is. He's the one who has taken care of me all these years." While speaking, her voice trembling unsurely, she itches her arm nervously.

 Gasping, I spot a shadowed figure leaping forward. "Speaking of the Man on the Moon. . ." I trail off, my eyes permanently fixed on the old man approaching us.