Changing Faces

Over on Mastodon, I did a little prompt call on the theme of moons.
She slipped out into the night and let the moonlight brush over her.

It was a clear night; good. She could use the change tonight. There was an angry man in the party, and when he figured out she’d left, he was going to be angrier.

He had reason to be angry with her, yes. On the other hand, he was an asshole. The two didn’t exactly balance out, but they did make her feel not at all bad about sneaking out when he was looking for her – probably hollering about her – very likely quite irked.

She closed her eyes and felt the moonlight on her skin. It was a chilly night, and the moon was full, swollen.

She didn’t like the full-moon faces as much, but this one would do. The Mother came out with the gibbous moon, the Crone with the darkness of the new moon… every moon had its moods.

And tonight- she breathed in and felt her bones shift under her skin, felt her skin shift. She was going to be tall today, whee. Tall and lanky and small-chested with really big hands.

She felt the point between her eyes where the sanity was already slipping away, and made it to a bus stop before she could forget she needed to get some distance.

She was going to be a wild one for a little while, it seemed. She could already sense the memories slipping into protective custody, tucked away with her more stable forms. She was whistling a tune, she was almost singing, and she handed a hobo a $10 bill.

She still had enough for bus fare.

She hid most of the rest of her money in a pocket in her bag before the moon-touched face took completely over. Then she let go and slipped away, and the new face shone forth in full.

“Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-a’ight,” she sang to the nighttime street. “My oh my, what a wonderful night. Plenty of moonlight, coming my way, Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay.”

The bus driver let her on with a shake of his head. “Try to keep it down, child,” he warned. “Got some cranky ones on tonight.”

She gave him a kiss on the forehead and hummed to herself while the wheels on the bus

went round and round

round and round

and the moon over head hung round, so round…

It was a clear night, and she had no place in particular to go, which was her favorite place of all.

missus crow’s here on my shoulder

It’s the truth, it’s factual

Everything is satisfactual.

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-night

Wonderful Feeling, wonderful night.

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