On Luna Time
Page 3
Luna? I looked around at the empty room expecting someone to pop out and explain to me what was going on. I leaned down peeking under the bed like a child looking for monsters. A lone basket was the only thing hiding. I pulled it up, scraping its wide edge against the back of the bookshelf as I attempted to pull it onto the bed next to me. A floral sheet set and matching pink, patchwork quilt were folded up inside. The fabrics were baby soft and slightly fragrant as if they’d just been washed and hung out to dry.
I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with a clean body, but a shower felt like a long way off. I fluffed out the bottom sheet breathing in the comforting smell as I tucked its fitted elastic around each corner. As I made my way around the bed, I spotted a metal fan sitting in the top end of the crescent.
Except for my underwear, I pulled my damp clothes off throwing sand all over the floor as I ripped them from my body. I laid the clothes out flat on the floor in front of the fan, shivering as the cool air from the circling blades blew across my bare skin.
I snuggled in between the sheets, allowing the weight of the quilt to take all my negative thoughts away. I slipped the pink envelope from my backpack reading over Gina’s words once more before I drifted off to sleep.
Once you get inside, read the journals.
The journals! I pulled the covers off, shivering as I looked around for the one thing I’d forgotten. At the head of the bed, the lamp sat atop a small side table with a single drawer attached to it. I slid it open revealing a smaller wicker basket with a note that read, Refill upon departure.
Inside was a glass bottle of soda and two packages of orange crackers. My stomach growled; I hadn’t even realized I was hungry. I reached for the soda first, listening as a fresh fizzle escaped the metal cap. The package of peanut butter crackers was like nothing I’d seen before. The plastic was in a clear, cube like shape instead of a typical flat rectangle topped with a bold logo.
The crisp crackers tasted good against the carbonation of the soda, fresh and sharp. As I chewed, I looked around the small lifeless room filled with nothing but me. As I placed the basket back in the drawer, I noticed a pile of composition notebooks inside. In the lined, white area of the top book cursive handwriting read, Dear Luna. Gina’s voice reminding me once again to, read the journals, whispered in my mind.
I pulled out the pile of three notebooks, all different sizes and ages, and snuggled back into the warmth. The bottom of the pile felt newer and more firm while the top book was smaller and was held together by frayed strings, one of which had popped off at the spine. I flipped the top of the softened cardboard cover open and began to read.
In varied handwriting, as if new thoughts had been added over time, a list was written.
Welcome to Luna Time.
Read over this list and consider it Luna’s Law. Do not break these laws under any circumstance and do not take advantage of being on Luna Time.
1. Spend your time wisely.
2. Make yourself fit in, regardless of the year you traveled from or to.
My eyes bulged as I read, regardless of the year you traveled from or to, over and over. I thought back to the couple on the beach, the missing houses, and looked toward the mint green metal fan.
3. Do not stay for longer than one moon cycle. Time is not a game.
4. Each traveler only gets two full moon jumps - one to travel and one to return.
If this law is broken you will be eternally stuck on Luna Time.
5. Do not reveal yourself as a traveler or allow outsiders entrance into the secret room.
6. Do not fall in love. Altering history is unexceptable. You are merely a visitor.
Altering history? I rubbed my eyes and re-read the sixth law. I tried to wrap my mind around what this list was telling me, but I couldn’t sum it up to anything other than a prank.
Read through the fellow travelers journal entries and learn from their mistakes-- do not repeat them. Use the empty pages to document your own travels; if the pages run out purchase a new notebook and leave it in the drawer upon departure.
Enjoy your stay.
Love, Luna
I flipped through the puffed up and slightly crinkled papers filled with words that I was invited to read. It seemed as if all but the empty half of the bottom book was filled with differing handwriting throughout. I fanned the pages not knowing where to begin. I landed on August 29th, 1920, a random entry in the second book.
August 29th, 1920
Dear Luna,
Yesterday was August 11th, 1984. Today is August 29th, 1920.
My mom always promised me the grand adventure of being born a Marshall woman. She promised that if I was patient, she would tell me all the secrets once I was old enough. But she didn’t make it past my ninth birthday.
My grandmother, Louise Marshall, told me everything two weeks ago on the day I turned 18. My sister Dorothy was pissed. She screamed at Grandmother, telling her she had no right to steal Mom’s moment, but Mom wasn’t there to tell me. So, instead of following Dottie, I stayed and soaked up all of the fairy tale words Grandmother Louise had to tell me.
She said, “Traveling is a piece of magic that Marshall women have gotten to enjoy for over 100 years now. The why has gotten lost over time, but the how is simple.”
She gave me strict instructions on traveling and assured me that it’s what my mother would have wanted. Despite my fear of heights, I jumped from the pier at exactly midnight under the full moon. I swam to shore fearing for my life, even though Grandmother Louise assured me that Luna would protect me.
I made it here to the lighthouse not long after.
While walking down the shoreline today, I only noticed a few houses between the lighthouse and town, which was so weird. Yesterday it was covered with candy colored vacation homes filled with sunburnt tourists.
Being in 1920 is like visiting a foreign country. Thankfully, my walkman and tapes made it through the jump unscathed.
Liza
August 30th, 1920
Dear Luna,
I saw Grandmother Louise today in town! She’s only a six year old, but I’d recognize her anywhere. She was with her mother, my Great-Grandmother Vera Ann. I met her when I was 14 during her visit to Luna Time. She asked how my Grandmother was, looking down at her tiny daughter as I spoke about her as an old woman.
It’s a weird thing seeing the people you’ve seen pictures of your whole life, who you’ve watched grow old and die, standing right in front of you. Getting to be on Luna Time is pure magic. Even if I have no idea what to do with my time here, I’m happy I jumped.
Liza
I couldn’t grasp what I was seeing written on the page in front of me. I reread the last paragraph once more, trying to figure out if the writer was delusional or if it actually happened to her. I needed sleep but I couldn’t stop.
September 4th, 1920
Dear Luna,
I went dancing!
It’s so much different dancing to a jazz band playing on a stage than dancing to Madonna coming from a speaker. I didn’t know how to do the charleston, but I tried and I loved it despite my clumsiness. A boy named John danced with me and taught me all of his moves. I even let him kiss me... I swear I’m not easy. He was just too handsome to say no.
I don’t even say ‘handsome,’ but there is no other word to describe him.
Liza
September 18th, 1920
Dear Luna,
I’ve been here for nearly three weeks, but it’s felt like a day. I never want to leave.
I haven’t seen much of my family.
I try and forget that John was a sixty year old man when I was born, which is easy to do because he’s not sixty right now. He wasn’t sixty when he went to third base last night. He’s young and handsome and is training to be a dentist. I want to marry him and have his babies.
Liza
September 23rd, 1920
Dear Luna,
I’m going to keep bunking with John. He’s more comfortable to lay on than the lighthouse bed anyway.
Liza
September 27th, 1920
Dear Luna,
Great-Grandmother Vera Ann came to me today with a warning. Apparently, gossip has been going around town about the break-in. Obviously, that lighthouse worker is more than just someone who puts books on a shelf, she’s a Luna Time nightwatcher.
Liza
I looked up at the bookshelf wall wondering if someone was coming to bust me. I couldn’t stay in the lighthouse past the night, it was too risky.
P.S. I’m thinking of staying one extra month, which I know is against Luna laws, but John asked me to the dance next Friday. How can I tell him no? I just got good at the 20’s flapper girl lifestyle.
September 28th 1920
Dear Luna,
Thirty something, Great-Grandmother Vera Ann is outside of the bookshelf right now. I prefer the elderly version.
She’s threatening to throw me into the water herself if I don’t willingly go. I didn’t even get to tell John goodbye or that I love him too. I was planning to tell him at the dance.
Goodbye Luna, I’ll never forget you. Thank you for lending me your magic.
Liza
P.S. Forgive the wrinkled page, but let it be evidence of my heartbreak.
Five
n
A woman’s voice interrupted my dream, pulling me out of a deep sleep. I rubbed my eyes, looking around the lamplit room, startled by the realization that my dream was in fact reality. I bolted out of bed remembering that I was in my underwear, wincing at the noisy squeak of bed springs.
The voice got louder as it entered the library. “Who left the lamp on?” She said, mumbling as if she were talking to herself. There was nothing in between us but wood and books.
Horrorstruck, I cursed myself for being clumsy enough to leave the library lamp on. I reached for my clothes right as I heard a book knock against the shelf a mere two feet away from me. I pulled my pants on fast, aware of every enhanced sound; my clothes brushed against my skin, the grains of sand slid across the wooden floor. My breath puffed in and out.
Another book slid from the front side of the shelf, followed by another. I inched closer to the backside while throwing my shirt over my head. Obsessive thoughts of being caught mixed with an intense ache to escape the tiny space came over me. As the fourth book slid out, I crouched near the floor following the sound. The book was being pulled from the second to bottom shelf. Every puff of air that blew out of me sounded louder than the last. My heart gave out and panic covered me.
I reached for the small door knob and pulled it toward me ready to stop the door from opening.
“Rosemary, are you back there?” A different woman’s voice called out. Without hesitation, Rosemary as I now knew her, slammed the books back into the shelf.
“Be right there,” Rosemary shouted out fast, as she flung the final book back in.
The second woman’s voice entered the library, loud and clear. “There you are. I’d just like to go up and enjoy the view for a moment, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll be closing in ten minutes for lunch, but feel free to stick around until then if you’d like.” Rosemary sang out, swiftly changing her tone from breathy to upbeat and professional.
Their voices were the same as the couple’s on the beach. I knew a southern North Carolina accent because I had one, but it was nothing in comparison to theirs. They sounded like old timey Savannah. Two sets of heels tapped in rhythm quieting the further down the hall they got. I allowed a sigh of relief to fall from my chest as I released my grip on the door knob.
My mind raced with questions. I needed to know why I was there and where Gina was hiding. I wanted to know if what I read in Liza’s journal was true, even if it seemed far fetched and impossible. I had ten minutes until I could sneak out of the lighthouse and begin my search. I reached for the pink envelope, reading over my list and adding to it to pass the time.
1. Find a place to call home.
2. Paint my life.
3. Live like the weather.
4. Buy a yellow dress.
5. Refill the basket with food.
6. Visit the vineyard.
7. Look for the house on Luna Road.
8. Read the journals.
9. Find Gina.
A list of nine things seemed unbalanced and lonely. I added a 10. with the potential to be something at a later date.
j
The faint sound of voices once again floated down the hallway.
“Thank you again, Rosemary.” the second woman’s voice replied.
“Anytime. Bye now.” Rosemary said.
After a few more high heeled taps, the sound of Rosemary shutting the door flew down the hallway. I began counting to sixty with Mississippis between each number. I repeated the process four more times until I was sure I was alone.
With the journals safely inside my backpack, I placed the golden key into its hole at the bottom of the shelf door and turned. The bookshelf popped open, allowing a rush of fresh air into the secret room. I locked it behind me and ran down the window lined hallway to the lighthouse as full speed. As I neared the front door, a deep voice startled me into a frozen position.
“Where did you come from?” A boy’s presence filled the room. I hadn’t heard any male voices all morning, let alone heard anyone come in after Rosemary left. I turned to face him looking down at his dress shoe covered feet as he made his way over to me.
He moved from the shadow into the sunlight beaming through the circular window next to me. He wore gray dress pants that came halfway up his stomach along with a tucked in white button up topped with a short tie. I felt homeless in my tattered clothes, never mind the fact that I was. I bit my lip as I tried to find my voice.
“Where did you come from?” I asked, clearing my throat.
“Are you lost?” He asked, edging closer. His voice had the same accent as the others. Equally as southern and old fashioned, but warm and smooth enough to melt butter.
I shook my head. “I didn’t realize you were closing. Time must have ran away from me.”
“We’re closed from eleven to noon… always have been,” he explained as if it were common knowledge.
“The library is beautiful,” I mumbled, unable to think of a more cohesive excuse.
“It’s a gem,” he agreed, tucking his hands in his pants and cocking his head to the side. He leaned back on his heels, demanding eye contact which I couldn’t seem to break. His hazel eyes matched his slicked back hair. “Say, where did you get those clothes?”
I swallowed and moved backwards until I bumped against the door. My heart thumped in unison with the squeaking fan that hung from the ceiling. The unreasonable thought that I wasn’t in 2019 anymore crept in swallowing me up whole.
“I… I’ve been trying to learn to sew, and I don’t think I have it figured out yet.” I reached my hand down behind me, feeling for the door knob.
“But what about your shirt? I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said with squinted eyes.
I had already broken Luna’s Law.
I swung the door open and bolted down the twisting gravel path, slamming my feet into the ground with force. By the time I landed at the bottom, my hands were scraped and bleeding from falling down twice, my entire body felt raw and exposed from the inside out.
In the distance, the crashing waves called me. Seagulls honked, chasing one another high into the cloudless sky then down toward the thin blue line of ocean peeking out above the dunes. I limped across the skinny
gravel road, leaving the lighthouse behind me like a forgotten memory.
I climbed up the wooden stairs that crossed over the sandy dunes, holding on to the railing as my crutch. The dream I’d had of Liza during the night haunted me as I saw the same pier we both jumped off of standing tall in the distance. I fell asleep reading her words and woke up living them.
A gust of wind blew over me as I stepped onto the flat top of the dune stairs. The crashing waves of low tide showed off the same crushed shell deposit I laid on the night before. I wanted to curl up on top of them and allow the ocean to carry me away.
A rush of wind threw my dark tangled hair across my face breaking the trance I had on the water. The beach was bare, which I couldn’t have been more thankful for. I was certain that whoever I came in contact with next would stare at my dirty clothes and backpack, my greasy hair, and my sad blue eyes. I ran down the dune steps in hopes that the ocean would steal every irrational thought of time travel away from me.
I moved swiftly across the dry, bumpy sand not stopping until I reached the water. Taking a deep breath, I squatted down and plunged my stained red hands into the salty waves. The burn made me want to cry, but no tears came. I allowed my thoughts to escape to nothing as I closed my eyes listening only to the static wind. Silently, I tried to scream at myself to wake up from the realistic nightmare I was living in.
A poke on my shoulder startled my silent scream into a real one, causing me to fling forward into the cold water. The voice of the shoulder poker shouted in between the ocean pushing me down and pulling me back up again. Catching my balance, I sat down in the shallow water with my hand over my eyes to block the blinding sun, letting the waves sway me slightly from side to side. The boy from the lighthouse stood just out of the waters reach, holding his hand out.
Everything was too real to be a dream.