New Moon

 “I swear to God it wasn’t there last night,” Clancy said. Most people in the park ignored his agitation; it was a big city, after all, and city people get good at ignoring anyone they don’t know.  He’d tried pointing the problem out to a few of them, but they looked, shrugged, and walked on as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, hanging over their heads. How could they all go about their business as if there was nothing unusual at all, Clancy wondered.

“What’s the big deal, man,” said a guy who looked like he was on his way to a rave. “It’s just the moons.” That was the problem, of course. It was ‘moons’, plural. Clancy knew there had only been one last night, and all the nights before. Earth only had one Moon, but there it was. The smaller moon hung in the sky, a little North of the Moon Clancy remembered, and further toward the zenith. The small moon had an orange cast, and there were more craters on it, or something. He was no astronomer, but he knew it was different.

Clancy saw another man who was staring up into the sky. He went over. “Do you see what’s wrong?” Clancy asked.

The man, who was wearing a long, dark purple, velvet cape, nodded. 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen so soon,” he said. “That’s why you noticed. Magic like this takes time.”

-- 30 --

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