Rhiwbina Living Issue 57

the wolf moon
A
drop of condensation rolled
down the glass and pooled
on the windowpane. Charlie
watched it as it made a damp spot
on the wood and tutted. Lifting his
cigarette to his lips, he took a long
drag and looked back to the glaring
screen of his laptop.
'And it was there that Jonah
decided he must…’ he read aloud.
‘Must what? Must what, Charlie?’
He was halfway through his
third novel and for the life of him,
he couldn’t seem to slip back
into writing the way he used to.
Since September, he had chained
himself to this desk, missing out on
birthdays, reunions, even Christmas
parties just to hit his February
deadline. But for some reason, the
words just weren’t coming.
The moonlight shone in through
the window, bathing his small study
in a wintry glow. It was almost
midnight but he refused to close
the curtains, hoping inspiration
would somehow strike from the
quiet scene below. Rows of slanted
rooftops reflected the moon’s
beams back up to the sky. Nothing
moved. Nothing murmured. No
46
inspiration would strike here tonight.
Pushing his chair back, Charlie
stood and started to pace. With
no other light in the room, he
moved in and out of the moon’s
gaze, enjoying the way the beams
danced on the rim of his glasses.
Why was it so hard to write this time
around? The first two books had
simply jumped from his fingertips to
the keyboard and become instant
hits with readers around the world.
Perhaps it was because it was the
last one in the trilogy but this one
was just not working.
Downstairs, he heard his wife
turning off the TV, her slippers
shuffling across the floor as she
started to make her way up the
stairs. How long had he been sitting
here? Five hours? And the most
he’d written was 100 words. At
least three hours had been spent
deleting sentences that just didn’t
work, over and over again. He
couldn’t disappoint his fans, he just
couldn’t.
‘Charlie?’ he heard Georgie’s
familiar voice call.
‘Yes, love?’
‘I’m going to bed.’
‘I know, I know. I’m just thinking-’
‘Have you seen the moon tonight?’
she said, climbing the couple of
steps up to his attic room.
‘No,’ he replied to the closed door.
‘Oh, you should see it,’ Georgie
said. ‘You’d like it.’
Charlie stopped pacing, aware of
his wife hovering on the top step.
He should ask her in, tell her to
come and look at the moon with
him. He knew he should and yet,
if he did, it would take him ages to
get back on track. Not that he was
going anywhere at the moment.
‘It’s called a Wolf Moon,’ Georgie
said, quietly. ‘Because of the wolves
howling in the winter.’
‘Nice, love. I’ll have a look later.’
There was a quietness between
them as he gazed up at the moon
outside his window. She would
know he had already seen it. She
knew he never closed the curtains
when he was writing.
Realising she wouldn’t be invited
in, Charlie heard her turn and start
to descend the stairs.
‘Goodnight then, love,’ she said. ‘I
won’t disturb the genius at work.’
‘Goodnight, Georgie,’ he replied. ‘I