Paul StJohn Mackintosh

Writing * Poetry * Dark Fiction * Weird * Fantastic * Horror * Fantasy * Science Fiction * Literature

Full moon and full sun

These past few nights, we’ve seen the most amazing full moons, rising low over the hills to the south, ivory, amber yellow, and on one memorable night as we took the taxi to the Auchan hypermarket at Solymar, red, appearing down between the trees of the woods, brooding, immense. We debated whether we’d ever seen such big, bright moons in Hong Kong: more silver, certainly, as they paved foil roads over the sea below the mountains of Lantau, but never so large as in Hungary. The moon shines in through the unshuttered man-high bedroom window as I fall asleep at night, and over my bed, sliding through the sheer white drapes like a woman half seen through veils.
Then yesterday, as we came back from Auchan around 8pm, we drove straight into a huge sunset, with the sun projecting great strakes, sunspokes, Catherine wheels from behind the clouds, before finally emerging, right down on the horizon at the head of the road, golden and gigantic, as we drove straight into its face.