Rhiwbina Living Issue 57

won’t be much longer.’
Her footsteps faded away and
Charlie was left with the Wolf Moon
and an unfinished sentence that
was haunting him. Somewhere
along the line, he’d lost his love
for the stories he was creating.
His publishers had promised his
readers that each book would be
bigger and better than the last -
more epic battles, more nail-biting
cliffhangers. More, more, more.
And now here he was, writing about
a man called Jonah that he didn’t
even care for. It had all become so
detached from the original story
he wrote - a love story, essentially.
Holding the backspace key down,
he watched the letters disappear
from the page.
‘Sorry Jonah,’ he sighed. ‘I’m
making a mockery of you.’
Georgie’s faint cough from the
floor below made him stop. He
wished he could go down to be
with her instead, but the publisher’s
deadline sat heavy on his shoulders.
What was it she’d said? A Wolf
Moon? What was all that about?
Clicking away from his third book
and on to the internet icon, Charlie
brought up the search bar and
typed in ‘wolf moon.’ Thousands
of results came back, telling him
that the bright January moon
was named after the wolves who
howled at it in the depths of winter,
on the search for food. The famine
and the feast - he could tell them
a thing or two about that, Charlie
chuckled to himself. The name of
the Wolf Moon had Celtic origins,
said one website - derived from
Native American tribes said another.
What would it have been like to
hear those howls in the dead of
night? An icy cold January night, no
less.
He shivered to think of it.
The first full moon of the year. How
was it January already? He thought
back to the text he’d received from
his oldest friend, Jerry. ‘Happy New
Year, mate. Have to try and get
together soon - I’m forgetting what
you look like.’
He’d rolled his eyes when he got
that one. It was the same story
every year when he was trying to
get a book finished. Nobody said
anything when he was at every
summer BBQ, but miss a few
months in the winter to keep to your
contract and suddenly, you were
the devil incarnate for not being
around.
His father had been the same,
missing out on time with friends
and family. As a baker, he’d been
the one person everyone had
come to for their fresh loaf and
some sweet treats. He’d go to bed
early to rise before the sun and
start baking all over again. They’d
hardly see him over Christmas while
he was out delivering goodies to
people around the neighbourhood,
but he’d always be back in time
for Christmas dinner with all the
trimmings. You have to do what
you have to do to get by, Charlie
told himself. Even if it meant staring
unhappily at a screen for a few
hours.
The problem was that this book was
just going deeper into a rabbit hole
that he needed to escape from.
He wasn’t writing to satisfy his own
hopes and dreams anymore, he was
writing for his publishers who made
demands on him. And that wasn’t
why he started creating stories
in the first place. The characters
had all become a little too
predictable; they weren’t allowed
to be contradictory as real people
often are. They had become onedimensional
caricatures instead,
and while the story had taken them
on adventures to far-flung corners
of the world, it just wasn’t the same
as the original.
Charlie sighed and rubbed his tired
eyes. He couldn’t go back and start
again now…could he? Make this a
book he was actually proud of? Do
Jonah some justice?
A bird flew past his window, jolting
him out of his stupor. The moon
was still there, watching him suffer
with the consequences of his own
actions.
‘Oh shush,’ he said to it. ‘You don’t
have to deal with problems like this.’
He remembered gazing out the
window of his dad’s van at a full
moon when he joined him on his
deliveries one year. Trays of bread
slid from side to side in the back
as they came to the end of their
rounds.
‘Sun will be up soon, boy,’ his father
said. ‘Just a couple more to do and
you’ll have to be off to school.’
‘Moon’s still out,’ Charlie replied.
‘Full moon too.’
‘Oooh yes,’ his dad said. ‘What a
beautiful sight.’
They pulled up at Mrs Hardy’s
house, light from the small kitchen
pouring out onto the front garden.
Opening the back of the van,
Charlie pulled out a tray with a loaf
of bread and some freshly baked
scones on top.
‘Come on then, lad. Don’t ring the
bell, you’ll wake her baby.’
His father’s hand on his back,
Charlie was guided up the path and
they both knocked gently on the
door.
‘Oh hello, you two,’ Mrs Hardy
whispered. ‘Thank you so much -
this smells delicious. Let me get
your money.’
‘You’re more than welcome,’
Charlie’s father said quietly, as she
tiptoed back into the hall.
‘You two must be exhausted
before the day even begins,’ she
replied, placing the money into his
father’s hand.
‘Ah, well we love it, don’t we
Charlie?’
Charlie nodded enthusiastically
back at his father.
‘Do what you love and you’ll never
work a day, eh?’ Mrs Hardy smiled.
‘Exactly. You take care now, love.
See you next week.’
They walked back to the van, and
Charlie felt his father’s hand ruffling
his hair. What his dad had said was
true. He did love it. They climbed
back into the warmth of the van and
Charlie’s dad whistled as they set off
back home.
Charlie smiled to himself as he
recalled it now. One of those core
moments that stuck with him for
years. Looking back at his screen,
his eyes scanned the plan for this
chapter. What was he doing? None
of it made sense. According to
his agent, it was what the public
expected after two books that had
been real page-turners. It was The
Grand Finale.
But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his
characters. It had all turned into
a bit of a pantomime, and it just
wasn’t real anymore. No wonder it
had been so painful to write.
‘Forget it,’ he sighed. ‘I’m not doing
it.’
Opening a brand new document,
he wrote ‘Chapter 1’ at the top, Mrs
Hardy’s sage advice ringing in his
ears. ‘Do what you love and you’ll
never work a day.’
Charlie picked up his whisky and
held it up to the moon.
‘Here’s to new beginnings,’ he said
to it.
And then he began to write…
‘Jonah looked up at the icy Wolf
moon…’
By Allie Morgan
short story
You can find more of Allie's work at
allie-morgan.com
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