I could feel it as I was standing there and looking at the
moon. I could feel the malice surrounding me, penetrating
and invading my life, my soul.

The moon has always affected me, or so I thought. There is
no explanation for that theory except for being born on a
full moon night. I know I am not the only one; there are
probably thousands, or even millions of kids just like me.
But there is one little detail that differs me from the rest
of them. I was born at mid-night, not a minute before or
after. I was delivered to the world as the church's bell
rang for the twelfth time.
My mom didn't make it. She died while she was giving birth
to me, and since then I was on my own. I have a grandma who
took good care of me, but we could not be close given that I
was a constant reminder of what she had lost. I looked
exactly like her precious daughter who was the closest
person to her in the world. She could never look at me
without a tear in her eye, and I learned to live with that.

I was quite independent when I reached the age of sixteen. I
wasn't an average teenager, or maybe I just did not want to
think so. I always felt different, as if there was a wall
between the rest of the world and me. I believed that I
could read their thoughts and understand their feelings and
desires. I thought that the moon gave me the power and
knowledge to rule the world, but in fact the moon ruled me.
I thought the moon gave me its blessing, but the truth is,
it was its curse. I am not talking about anything mystical
or uncanny; I am talking about the simple fact that I didn't
have a single friend throughout my entire adolescence.
I don't exactly know when the change did come, but when it
did, it opened my eyes to the world and to what surrounds
me. This was the first time I felt the complete and utter
loneliness in which I had lived. I felt the pain of solitude
and seclusion. I felt the profound and absolute need of a
friend. My problem at the time was that I just did not know
what to do, how to face the society from which I worked so
hard to isolate myself in my teenage years.
The curse of the moon, however, did not let go of me even
when I found the friends I longed for and organized my life
and forgot about my supposed wisdom and authority. The moon
trailed me till I had nowhere to hide, and there was no one
left to hear my cry. Maybe it wasn't the moon, maybe it was
my fault again, but all I know is that I was forsaken and
forgotten by everyone. It was just the moon and I, again.  

It was a cloudless night. The moon was seen clearer than
ever. I could not stop looking at it though I grew more and
more alarmed by the minute. I knew the moon had something in
store for me that night. The moon was sending me signs,
warnings. I could feel it in every limb.
When I woke up the next morning, I had a strange feeling
that something extremely important happened while I was
asleep and dreaming. Pictures kept running through my head,
but they didn't make any sense to me. I could see my mom
lying on the ground. It was dirty and wet. She looked
exactly like she did in all of those pictures I had. The
only difference was the tears covering her face. I also saw
a man. I didn't even know who he was. He had short, brown
hair and wicked eyes that pierced my soul.
I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out the content
of my dream, but my mind was blank. By the end of the day I
was aggravated and upset, my only hope now was the moon. It
sent me the dream and will now help me to figure it out.
It came to me as I was looking at the moon. I did not want
to believe it at first, but after a conversation with my
grandma, I understood the whole truth. I understood why my
grandma hadn't ever told me about my father, and why I
couldn't even find a single picture of him in the family
albums. I understood the real reason why my grandma could
never look at me, and it broke my heart. My "father" did not
only take my mom's soul and dignity. He also managed to kill
her, through me.  
As I was sitting in my bedroom, looking at the moon and
pondering about what this entire thing meant, I realized
what I had to do. I understood why I had this dream. At that
moment I knew that I had to save my mom. If I didn't save
her life, at least I would save her soul. I would make him
pay, for everything.  
The phone's ringing interrupted my thoughts. My grandma was
on the other end of the line, distressed and sobbing. Ten
minutes later I was on my way to her house.


I felt like the world was closing in on me. Everything was
overwhelming, too much to think about and too much to
comprehend. Tears ran down my face, and I could not control
them. I was thinking about my mom and the pain she suffered.
He was a family friend, a family friend! No wonder my
grandma felt the need to cover it up, she felt guilty. I did
not go to bed that night. I could not stop thinking about
everything that had been revealed to me in the past two
days.
I knew what my next step would be. I had his address, or at
least his address twenty years ago. It was a start, and
maybe a future for all of us. I went there at first light. I
knew that it was discourteous and ill mannered, but I did
not care. I was sure that once he saw me he wouldn't care
either.  
There was no answer when I knocked on the door, and the name
on the mailbox was not his. I was ready to give up when I
heard someone calling me. It was one of his neighbors. When
she realized that I was not looking for the new residents,
she told me that he had left seven years ago. He was at a
nursing home, probably waiting for his death; however, she
did not know which one it was. I did not ask any more
questions, just thanked her for help and went straight to my
apartment. It was a strange feeling to look through the
yellow pages and call each and every one of the nursing
homes, asking for him. He was at the sixth one I called.

My legs were shaking when I went up the stairs and into his
room. He was sitting with his back to the door; he did not
seem to notice me. I called him and he turned. I was right;
he knew who I was the minute he laid his eyes on me. I was
expecting a confrontation, I was expecting lies and deceit,
but what I got was the truth.
His voice broke down after the first sentence, and as he
continued talking it seemed to get weaker. He told me
everything. He told me about the first time he had seen my
mom and her beauty. He told me about the horrible night,
when he decided to take her, to turn her into a women, not
considering her feelings or the outcome. He told me how he
did not stop despite her tears. He told me how petrified she
was, and how she cried for help, but there was no one there
to hear...except for the moon. I understood it. I understood
it all. The moon saw it, the whole thing. The moon was the
sole witness of the young girls suffering, and the moon
could not keep quiet any longer. The moon had a story to
tell, and I was the one who had to listen and act by it.
Now that I knew the truth, I had only one more thing to do.
I had to put him behind bars. I left the room to make a
call, the most important call I had ever made in my entire
life. I was about to change everyone's life forever; I was
about to free my mom's soul and free myself from the curse
of the moon. It was a magnificent feeling of accomplishment.
Although I knew nothing would ever be the same again, I was
ready for the change. I wanted to be free, I wanted to have
a normal life, and most of all I wanted revenge. My fingers
were trembling when I dialed the number, 911.
I was absent for not longer than five minutes, but when I
got back the old man was already dead. All I found was a
letter, and on the envelope were written, in thick black
marker, six words-

"The dark side of the moon"

הסיפור הזה מוקדש לענת הררי-- תורה רבה על כל העזרה, בלעדייך
הוא לא היה קיים!