Dark Rain: 15 Short Tales Read Online Free PDF Page A

concept crap. Am I right?
    There’s only one way to find out, Sam.
    Indeed,
I thought, and summoned the flame.

    Within it, I saw myself.
    My human self. Normally, I would move toward her, and she toward me, and we would rejoin. But not now, of course. Unless I wished to fall for eternity, which I didn’t.
    Now, with a nod toward that spunky gal I loved so much—that gal who had put up with so much and handled life and death as best as she could—I dismissed her.
    She returned my nod and stepped out of the flickering flame in the center of my thoughts, vacating it.
    Okay, that’s a first.
But, now what the devil do I do?
The creature, of course, remained mum on the subject.
Fat lot of good you are,
I thought grumpily.
    Small laughter just inside my ears.
You’re doing good, Sam.
    I grumbled some more and continued focusing on the empty flame. So what was next?
    Easy,
I suddenly thought. Something had to fill the flame. Something had to appear within the flame. I knew just what that something had to be.
    Now, as I flew high above the West Coast of the United States, a streaking, hellish beast from another world that cut through the high winds faster than most fighter jets, I saw the surface of the moon.
    Within the flame.
    The surface took on more shape and detail—craters and rocks and dirt all appearing in perfect clarity. As they did so, something happened. Something startling. Something that would forever change my life.
    I felt myself rushing toward that image.
    Rushing to the moon.

    This isn’t happening,
I thought.
    It can’t be happening.
    I’m dreaming.
    Dreaming… dreaming…

    I considered pinching myself, slapping myself… anything to awaken. Anything to prove that this wasn’t happening. That I wasn’t where I now found myself. Where I now found myself
perched
.On the surface of the moon.

    The creature remained silent as I grappled with what stretched out before me: a rolling sea of bone-white hills. Silent, I suspected, so that I could soak it all in without distraction.
    Yes, I had always had an affinity for the moon. I was almost—
almost
—not very surprised when I finally married a man named Danny Moon.
    Often, I gazed up at the heavens. But not just the heavens. The moon itself.
    The moon… always.
    Okay.
I nodded in the vastness of space.
There is a small chance that this might be happening.

    Stillness.
    Complete silence.
    Before me and all around me was an empty, barren landscape. I expected to feel wind, or to hear…
something
.
    I heard nothing, felt nothing.
    No, that wasn’t true.
    I felt cold. Colder than I’d ever felt before. I was almost—almost—uncomfortable. But not quite. Not me. Not in this form.
    I found myself on a steep, craggy rock. A tor, some might call it. I looked down and saw that my clawed talons were gripping a stony overhang. As I shifted, some of the rock broke loose and fell away. But the pieces didn’t fall away in a manner I was used to. They tumbled away as if in slow motion.
    In fact, the rock and dust fragments almost
drifted
away, as if descending slowly through the deep seas. I was imminently aware that I was witnessing something few humans—mortal or immortal—had ever experienced.
    I’m here. I’m really here. The moon.
    The rock fragments finally hit a bigger boulder far below me, rebounded off it, seemed to hover briefly in mid-air, then continued down, finally landing in a puff of white dirt.
    I knew from my research that the moon had only a hint of an atmosphere, and nothing close to oxygen. Which I didn’t need, not in this form and not in my human form. Lucky, right?
    So what now, Sam?
the creature asked.
    I want to fly,
I said.
    Then so be it.
    But can I?
    Stretch out your wings… and let’s see.
    You mean, you don’t know?
    The creature chuckled in my head
. I’m learning right along with you, Sam.
    And so I did as I was told. I stretched out my wings—our wings. I stretched them wide… then beat them once.
    There’s not much