Let's Get Real

CLIMBING TO THE MOON

The moon lived in our home. It never moved. I could see that it was hanging from a thick golden thread. In vain I had attempted to reach it but I just couldn’t jump high enough. I practised trying from all angles. Every day my waking thought was - this is the day. Today I will jump so high that I will reach the moon and climb over it to see what was above. It never happened. Until one day a few weeks ago. All was normal until suddenly our home was filled with a bright light. I and my family cowered in the corner. We heard a loud, winding noise. We were scared. I looked up. The light went out. Something was different though. I looked up. The moon. The moon had started to move. From side to side, side to side it went
almost touching the walls. TOUCHING THE WALLS?! This was it. My chance. My courage returned. Before my parents could to stop me, I ran and climbed onto the ledge halfway up the wall. When the moon came near I knew it was now or never. I leapt.
Phew. I made it. I clung on tightly and managed, by scrabbling and using previously unknown athletic, gymnastic type moves to reach the golden thread above the moon. I was about to shin upwards when there was the most awful sound. BOOM! It deafened me. I, the moon, our home, shook with the vibrating resonance of the sound. I ran down as fast as I could, joined the rest of my family and left that home never to return. We made our way to the kitchen
cupboard where we knew we would be safe. Safe from moving moons, scary, loud deafening noises, and the house cat. Let’s get real - Grandfather clocks definitely do not make good homes for mere mice.