MOON FIRE: A VIVID MEMORY
by Richard Lee Van Der Voort, M.A.
June 14, 2011 845 words
I had never ever seen anything like it! The full moon was ringed with flashing orange fire. The fiery orange ring, like a blazing electric shock, ripped around the egg-yolk-colored moon one way, then came to a jerky soundless train-like halt. Wriggling like the jarred coupling of two boxcars, it then ripped back around in the opposite direction. The process kept repeating itself, again and again as I stood transfixed watching. Clockwise, a jerking halt, then back around counter-wise. A houseful of rude drug addicts lay coiled nearby, waiting serpent-like to occupy my house when my rent was up. While they dropped acid, did I somehow experience their psychodelic trip at a distance? Many nights after, I looked but that fiery event never repeated itself, at least not to my sight or by report. Nor did I ever hear of that odd spectacle, that strange lunar event on the daily news.
Three teenage girls had begun to hang out with me both fly buzz summer afternoons and drowsy humid evenings of noisy ceiling fans that final summer in Austin, Texas. I’m not sure why, though they did find stories of my psychic work fascinating and liked to laze around and ask me questions. The mother of one girl, a somewhat friend, trusted me with her issue, and her two friends, one older, one slightly younger, were similarly taken with me. Following, they seemed to fall in precocious love with whatever image they had of me even though I was old enough to be their father. What I was to them I was never sure, though the least attractive one, boney but sensuous in her under-developed way, made sexual intimations and came alone to visit one afternoon pretending to need a drink of water. I sensed she wanted me to follow her into the house where who knows what might’ve happened, but I did not. I knew she was trouble and I liked my life simple.
I called them out to look that night, all three, to see the phenomenal moon on fire, to see the orange ring racing around the perimeter of the stable moon that held firm. The sludge black sky seemed thick and eerie as if holding the moon in place, somehow stuck there as rings of liquid orange fire raced around going nowhere, first one way, then a rubbery halt like a subway car, only to race back the other. All four of us were held transfixed, not knowing what to make of such a cosmic event. Our mouths were silent, our eyes wide and intaking. It was the damnedest thing any of us had ever seen. I was happy to have witnesses so if I told the story, each girl might ascertain that I had not lost my cotton-pickin’ mind. Psychic folk were held suspect anyway, so to have witnesses, even if young and impressionable, helped to authenticate my strange experience of lunar fire.
Orange fire, as if liquid, raced around the edge of the full moon stuck in that midnight black rubber sky, like molten lead, smooth as black satin, the color of ebony or sin, while the egg-yolk-colored moon stayed full and glowing, its stability threatened by a ring of racing orange fire. It was the damnedest thing I’d ever seen, and over the next twenty years and more, I’ve never since experienced any such lunar phenomena as that, and I have lived for many, many moons now.
I haven’t told the story often, but it comes to mind from time to time, the strange experience of blazing orange fire ringing and racing around the seemingly fixed and stolid moon. Until my dying day I will never know the cause or meaning of what I saw, nor will I forget those three young girls, my accomplices and witnesses. They no doubt grew to womanhood, those three teenish girls I knew, and maybe married men who were duller, while I grew in age and experience, a rememberer of that late night sight, that full moon with a racing orange ring, in Austin, Texas. I do not lie about what I saw. And three teenage girls, now middle-aged women and maybe mothers, if they lived to remember, were my witnesses.
What that lively ring of orange fire racing around the full bright moon was that eerie night, I will never know, but I will wonder until my dying day. This is a true story, as three teenage girls are my witness, they who for no discernible reason loved to be in my masculine psychic presence. Had they been older and more experienced, we might have made fire of our own, lust being what it is, but I was not of a mind to steal their girlish innocence, or break a mother’s trust. I wonder if they also, from time to time, remember what we saw together. Orange fire racing around a full moon at midnight in Austin, Texas, many years back in time during the mid-1980s.
Richard Lee Van Der Voort, M.A. Please see my website that includes books, blogs and psychic services at http://psychicconsultingbyemail.com. For more information about psychic readings my e-mail my address is psychicmind.vandervoort231@gmail.com
