Sarah Of The Moon Read Online Free PDF

world during a solar eclipse.”
    A moonchild, he thought as he watched Sarah laboring over the sink. At that moment, he would have believed Chick if he was told she was parented by the Gods of ancient Greece.
    Someone said something to Sarah and she laughed. It was a beautiful sound. He knew then, in that moment, he had found a place where beauty truly existed. A place where a child of the moon danced on a summer hill in a sun washed breeze. A place where the laughter of a girl dressed in white and a windswept song not only shared the same moment, but also had the exact same sound.

STORYTELLING TIME
    The Hope sisters knew how to cook a meal, Alex thought. Chick was right about that. The dinner’s menu was announced as a West Indian vegetable curry, made with butternut squash and other exotic ingredients. A salad with an oil and vinegar based dressing complimented the main course. Chick had advised him earlier not to expect meat. Almost all the people gathered around him were vegetarians. Chick suggested that if he craved a hamburger, to walk to Haight Street, or to the park where a vendor made good money servicing human carnivores.
    On this particular night, he was fine with the Hope sisters fare. From where he sat at the large table, Sarah was three seats down from him. He knew his appetite was undoubtedly the byproduct of his introduction to marijuana earlier in the park, but he also suspected it was because he could not see Sarah from his chair. He was still at the awkward staring stage of their relationship, and expected to be there for a while.
    House members occupied all twelve chairs surrounding the table. Three young girls, aged five to eight sat at a small adjoining table. Alex remembered their names as Aisha, Blossom, and Scarlett. According to Chick, they were the recipients of Sarah’s nightly stories.
    During the meal, Alex listened as the assembled group relegated their tales of the day’s sojourns. While the women talked of assisting the needy in various ways, the conversation among the men centered specifically on the quality of drugs at different venues, which ones to seek out and which ones to avoid.
    He found it odd that the discussion never moved in his direction. He was fully prepared to answer any questions relevant to his stay here but the subject never came up. One of the girls at the table asked him if he had ever visited the grave of Edgar Allen Poe in Baltimore City. When he replied that he had, she said “far out” and that was the end of that.
    “Hey Chick,” someone yelled from the far end of the table. “The phone’s been disconnected again.”
    Chick looked up from his plate. “Benny, I’m afraid that, for the time being, your collect calls to your parents, asking for cash, will need to be made from a pay phone, as ironic as that sounds.”
    A girl, who Alex remembered as Celeste, from Chick’s earlier introduction, looked at Chick.
    “I’m assuming the phone bill money went to a good cause.”
    “Rest assured it found a good home,” Chick replied before digging in to a forkful of curry.
    The conversation then shifted to the events of the day. The police evidently ordered a crowd of nonconformists gathered on a Haight Street corner to disperse and, when met with token resistance, made some arrests. The girl Alex knew as Isis sadly announced that a local legend named Ken Kesey had begun to serve a six-month jail term, on this very day, for an earlier marijuana conviction. The subject of communes came up and the chatter kicked into high gear. Many of the areas temporary residents, it seemed, were leaving for them daily, finding these retreats a peaceful alternative to bad drugs and angry cops.
    Cowboy, who Alex remembered from his stair-inflicted limp, spoke up from the other side of the table. “So what do you think of this commune idea, Sarah?”
    Alex was preparing to eat his last forkful of curry when he heard this. He put his fork down.
    “Someday,” she responded.
    It