Do you know how many days until Halloween????
"Mystery of the Harvest Moon"
Written By: Stacey L. Bolin
copyright: 10/27/2012 all rights reserved
Music accompanyment by:
Michael Donner "Disease"
A golden full moon rose higher and higher in
the night sky, casting a shadowy light on the dirt road that cut straight through
the vast treeless prairie land of Wyoming. Nature’s symphony of Coyotes,
crickets, and toads, added the melody, which would otherwise be a land of
silence. In the distance headlights of a vehicle grew larger and larger that
was accompanied by the graceful music of Ella Fitzgerald singing blue moon. A
Jack rabbit jumped from out of the tall grass, into the road, and was met by
the tread of an old 1951 Ford F150 truck that picked it up like a football,
tossed its lifeless body aside along with the rocks and dust that trailed
behind, to fall where it may.
Randall A. Wolfe was in a hurry to get home
on his way back from getting supplies for the farm in town. The farm had been
his pride and joy and he was very proud that he had achieved the ability of keeping
this farm from going into bankruptcy and being foreclosed upon as this was a
place that had been in his family for many years and where he grew up as a boy.
It had become a family tradition to pass the skills and the farm to the next
born son in the family on their 21st birthday - something that he
wished his son, Russell would warm up to, but since hearing the story of “The
Harvest Moon,” that had been told by his grandfather Harold A. Wolfe, every
year at Halloween, Randall’s son, Russell A. Wolfe, vowed he’d never resume the
duties as those before him had done.
As Randall, pulled up the auto gate of his
farm and got out of his truck to retrieve his mail, he looked up at the archway
and smiled knowing that it was his father and grandfather that had created such
a wrought iron beauty that had been adorned with a Circle in the center
representing a full moon, with the families last to the left and the name of their
farm – Full Moon Ranch, on the right. On the polls that held the arch in place,
were various designs of western art that was a collaboration of two coyotes
howling at the moon, horse shoes, and sunflowers as a mirror image on both
sides. It was fitting, especially on a
night like tonight and the meaning behind their creation. As he stood there, it
dawned on him – the story, it was the story of the moon that was the reason why
his son wanted nothing to do with owning the farm, but maybe it would be his
son’s fiancée’ that would help him change his mind as he knew tonight his son
was going to propose to his girlfriend – yet he could only hope that this
relationship would not turn out like the last girl he was with.
***
A bone chilling wind raced through the night
air, as Lillian and Russell sat snuggled together wrapped in a quilt enjoying
the warmth of the bomb fire that crackled and snapped small embers into the air
as the flames consumed the wooden fuel that they continue to place upon it. The
moon had been displaced by a dense cloud cover that had loomed all day in the sky
that threaten rain up their cozy night out together. This was to be the night
that Russell would ask Lillian to marry him. They had been together for the
five years and he had found that as he lived each day and night, it was the
thought of her that made him smile. He had always felt a deep connection between
them and he realized he wanted so much more. Yet something in the back of his
mind kept holding his ability to pop the question. As they sat, Lillian was
eager to learn more about her talk dark and handsome man.
“So Russ, I have to ask you a very personal
question.” She said, hoping he would turn and look into her eyes passionately
and whisper the answer in her ear.
He sat there in a strange daze as he watched
the fire, never turning to her, and only replied, “OK?”
“Why is it that you don’t like a harvest
moon?”
He immediately began to cough. He had been
startled by this question. “He had never
told anyone about his dislike for that particular event each year. There was no
way anyone could know?” He thought.
“I just figured that over the past few years
we have been together, we always talked about going out like were are right now, but
you never want to go on one of the best nights – the night of the full moon.
Each time I suggest going out on a beautiful fall night that is lit by a full
moon you always avoided the topic – why?” she said in a tender voice.
“I don’t like to talk about!” He said, trying
to hide his agitation.
“It can’t be that bad can it? I promise I won’t
tell anyone – trust me.”
He pulled himself out from the blanket and crouched
down closer to the fire to poke at it repeatedly with a stick, leaving her to sit by herself.
“Russell, did I say something wrong?”
“Lillian, I am just not feeling myself right
now. Maybe we should just leave,” he replied in a deep monotone voice.
Her voice was innocent and kind and he knew
she was of kind heart when she replied, “If that’s what you want. I’m sorry
that I upset you.”
“I’m a brave person,” he said in blankness
stare into the fire.
“Sure you are who said you weren’t?”
“Do you want to know what happened or not?” He
sharply responded then made some sort of growling sound under his breath.
Startled by the way he snapped at her, she
simply said, “Yes Russell I want to hear your story, I’m sorry I interrupted
you, please go on.”
Russell had finally found the courage to tell
Lillian why it was that he disliked the only night out of the year in October that
the harvest moon fell upon. His story began as if he were trying to protect his
credibility as a man only to reveal he was protecting so much more than that
and Lillian was about to learn so much more about her man than she ever
expected.
Russell tolerated snakes, spiders, and weird
creatures that roam the prairie land after dark. He was certainly not afraid of
heights or the dark, and he loved a great ghost story around a blazing campfire
with his friends and family. I guess one could say that Russell could be labeled
as a fearless person with one exception, his fear of a full harvest moon. The
reasons behind his fears was because of an old legend told to him by his
grandpa when he was a small boy. The legend was told every year just before
Halloween, and always on the night of the harvest moon, weather the moon shone
bright in the night sky or was sleeping behind a blanket of rain clouds –
whatever the October date was on the calendar of the full moon, the story was
told. He remembered sitting in the old farm house with family around the huge oak dinner table.
All the candles would be lit and in copper sconces as a fire crackled hot in the
fireplace. All The family, young and old, would gather round to hear grandpa’s traditional tale – “Mystery
of the Harvest Moon.” After packing his pipe and then lighting it with a wooden match, he would lean back in his chair
staring at the fire, puff a few rings from his pipe into the air and then would being his tale like this, “I recon it was early 1900’s or so. It was five local farmers and I, all doing
our best to get our crops in off the grounds before the threat of an early
winter storm was upon us. Last thing we wanted to do was to lose the crop. It
was our life line, both for financial reasons and for nourishment as this would be all that we had to get us through until the next harvest. Then men and I knew that it was never a good idea to be in the
fields after dark during that time of year with all the hungry coyotes, wolves
and occasional brown bear that were doing their best to fatten up as they prepared
for their winter months too.” Then he took another drag from his pipe.
“I warned your grandfather that being out
after dark, will bring nothing but trouble.” Grandma Nettie chimed in as she
took a hot pumpkin pie out of the oven and placed it on the table to cool.
“Hush up old woman,” grandpa scowled, “This
is my story tonight.”
“Then get on with it old man. Pies getting cold.” she
said in a grandma’s unique way.
Grandpa went on with his story, in a raspy spooky voice, “We knew that we didn’t have much time to get
the crops out of the field, as the full moon displayed two huge glowing rings
around it and we all knew what that meant – snow. We did our best with the tools that we had
then, and against the wishes of the women folk, we worked into the night. Now
being young men in our beginning twenties, who believed we knew it all, it was hard to convince us
otherwise. As we worked hard cutting the crops and placing them in the wagons,
we could hear the coyotes at the edge of the fields, howling at the moon and
taking in the scent of human flesh dancing across an occasional wind that
passed us. The horses began to get spooked, but still we continued to work
until just about midnight.
It was at about this time that I began to
feel a bit agitated, itchy, and was met with a strange taste in my mouth. It was
a peculiar sensation that I had never felt before and thought that I might have
been touched with a sour stomach. I don’t recall how I got home from the fields that evening,
but was feeling much better when I awoke the next morning. I went downstairs to
a breakfast fit for a king and fresh coffee percolating. Your grandma had mentioned
that she had been up half the night cleaning up my mess, which I assumed was
from my sour stomach. It wasn’t until the sheriff knocked on our door I
realized what the mess was that she was forced to clean. It was then I learned what had
happened to the others who worked in the fields with me that night. The sheriff
believed that the other men had been attacked by coyotes and or wolves. It was
so hard to tell as there was nothing but pools of blood, scattered horse carcasses,
and several drag marks that looked like it was made by human bodies. It was then
I knew it was due to the horrific powers of the Harvest Moon. I had been told
similar stories from my father and grandfather when I was a boy, and just
thought it was an urban legend just to scare us before going out on all Hollow’s
eve. It wasn’t until I found my pair of boots, which I had worn that night,
covered in blood did I know what truly happened and that is why I tell the tale to warn all of you.”
“Oh Harold your scaring the kids. When are
you going to learn that you are not responsible for what happened. You were
trying to provide for your family and fell ill.” Grandma Nettie said in a stirred
voice. “You keep telling this tale, and your farm will be doomed for certain.”
Russell never forgot the first time, or the
last time, that his grandfather told of that story. How could he forget since the
awing over the autogate was a constant reminder when he’d go home to the farm
to visit with his father, like he had done just recently to tell him of his
intentions to marry Miss Lillian.
“Wow, Russell, your story even scared me. I
can understand why you are bothered by the moon and I am sorry that I kept
trying to tell you that it was all in your imagination.” Lillian said with shame in her voice.
He never looked back at her as the clouds
slowly began to dissipate in the sky.
“I guess I should also tell you that I did
something I am not proud of and I hope that you can forgive me when I tell you
this.”
“Go on.” Said Russell
“Well, you know those calendars I like to
make with all the photos we take of the rocky mountains and places we have been
throughout the mid-west together..well I changed when the full moon would fall
in the month of October so that we could finally enjoy a night out together,
and since there is no moon in the sky while we are in the valley tonight, I figured you would never
notice.”
Russell remained knelt before the fire,
poking it over and over again, until he said, “I understand, but what’s done is
done.”
Feeling that she was in the clear and that he
understood why she did what she did, Lillian decided to change the conversation
quickly before he really had time to think about it.
“So, Russell, I couldn't help but noticed that all the men
in your family have an A, for an initial. What does it stand for? Alan? Alex?
Adam? What?”
“Aware,” he said with another growl in his
tone while scratching at his back and arms continously.
“Aware? That’s different, what do you have to
be aware of?” she commented with a bit of laughter in her voice.
Russell growled again as the moon broke
through the clouds. Russell’s eyes glowed
in the moon light as he looked at Lillian with a snear and said as he eye teeth gleemed, “Not Aware - A
WERE. You know as in - A WEREWOLF!”
***
The full moon was a blood red color in the sky as a shrilling
howling type sound echoed across the valley, where their camp fire had been. His family
secret was out again, and just like the last girl he had dated that questioned
his fears of the Harvest Moon - Lillian now joined her.
