All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
As the moonlight shines on me
Every night I light up a candle. I place it on my windowsill, and I sing to the night. I ask the stars to bring me my love back, my hopes, my dreams; everything I used to be. Tears sometimes flow, and then I ask the night to stop tormenting the poor souls around me. I ask the night to give hope and dreams to all who have lost them, and I ask the stars to watch over all the people I love. I blow out the candle and I curl up in my bed. Through a crack in my curtains, the moonlight floods in and lights my face up. Just my face and nothing else. I look at the moon from where I lay, and I see all the beauty that it gives. I listen to the silent night; the only sound is the wind on the leaves and a far away clock, marking each second as it passes on. As the moonlight shines on me, I feel new energy, and just then do the ideas start flowing into my head. Images appear, asking me to draw them and to write about them. Then I fall asleep gently, my head towards the window; towards the moon. Once I wake up, the moon is almost gone, and only a faint silver circle can be seen on the sky. The stars have almost all gone to bed, and only a few remain on the sky, watching me, watching everything. I go outside to feel the cold air reach my lungs, and I slowly remember the night. I remember my dreams and the images that appeared in my head, and now I have no choice but to write about them and hope they are read.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.