by Alan Osi
The Moondust Sonatas
MOVEMENT NO 1: A HUNTER’S MOON
ALAN OSI
SMOKE & SHADOW BOOKS
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, businesses, corporations, and incidents in this work are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Alan Osi
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected].
Smoke & Shadow Books
Cleveland Writers Press Inc.
31501 Roberta Dr.
Bay Village, OH 44140
www.clevelandwriterspress.com
Printed in the United States of America
Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-943052-02-8
eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-943052-05-9
First Edition: December 2015
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Smoke & Shadow Books is an imprint and trademark of Cleveland Writers Press Inc.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher. Library of Congress
Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file with the publisher.
Cover Design by Monkey C Media
Cover Photo by Peeter Viisimaa
Edited by Tim Staveteig; www.myliterarycoach.com
To fiction itself, the dream-eater.
CONTENTS
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2006
1.WILLIAM
2.CLYDE
3.YVONETTE
4.WILLIAM
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2006
5.JUSTINE
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2006
6.MAXWELL
7.HAROLD
8.MAXWELL
9.JUSTINE
10.MAXWELL
11.WILLIAM
12.ROB
13.CLYDE
14.ROB
15.WILLIAM
16.ROB
17.CLYDE
18.PERCIVAL
19.MAXWELL
20.JUSTINE
21.MAXWELL
22.YVONETTE
23.WALLY
24.MAXWELL
25.YVONETTE
26.MAXWELL
27.JUSTINE
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2006
28.YVONETTE
29.PERCIVAL
30.MAXWELL
31.PERCIVAL
32.WINSTON
33.PERCIVAL
34.MAXWELL
35.PERCIVAL
36.MAXWELL
37.PERCIVAL
38.HAILEY
39.MAXWELL
40.PERCIVAL
41.MAXWELL
42.JUSTINE
43.HAILEY
44.WILLIAM
45.PERCIVAL
46.MAXWELL
47.PERCIVAL
48.MAXWELL
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2006
49.PETER
50.CHESTER
51.MAXWELL
52.WINSTON
53.MARK
54.HAILEY
55.JUSTINE
56.MAXWELL
57.JUSTINE
58.WILLIAM
59.SALLY
60.VIOLET
61.ROB
62.WILLIAM
63.CLYDE
64.MAXWELL
65.CLYDE
66.WALLY
67.MAXWELL
68.PERCIVAL
MONDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2006
69.YVONETTE
70.PETER
71.CHESTER
72.BARRY
73.CLYDE
74.HAILEY
75.MAXWELL
76.NAOMI
77.HAILEY
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2006
78.GREGORY
79.WINSTON
80.HAROLD
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2006
81.PETER
82.CHESTER
83.HAROLD
84.MAXWELL
85.HAILEY
86.MAXWELL
87.HAILEY
88.MAXWELL
89.PERCIVAL
90.WALLY
91.HAILEY
92.MARK
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2006
93.MAXWELL
94.LEONARD
95.MAXWELL
96.LEONARD
97.ANNIE
98.STEVEN
99.SIENNA
100.ROB
101.YVONETTE
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2006
102.JUSTINE
103.PETER
104.MAXWELL
105.LEONARD
106.HAROLD
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2006
107.PERCIVAL
108.JUNE
109.HAILEY
110.LEONARD
111.PERCIVAL
112.MAXWELL
113.MARK
114.ANNIE
115.WINSTON
116.YVONETTE
117.ELBA
118.HAILEY
119.PERCIVAL
120.JUNE
121.HAILEY
122.MAXWELL
123.ANNIE
124.LEONARD
125.PERCIVAL
126.YVONETTE
127.WALLY
128.PERCIVAL
129.MAXWELL
130.LEONARD
131.HAILEY
132.JUNE
133.HAILEY
134.LEONARD
135.PERCIVAL
136.HAILEY
137.MARK
138.HAILEY
139.LEONARD
140.SHELLY
141.YVONETTE
142.PERCIVAL
143.WILLIAM
144.SHELLY
145.HAILEY
146.PERCIVAL
147.I AM…
MONDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2006
148.YVONETTE
149.WILLIAM
150.LEONARD
151.SHELLY
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 22, 2006
152.PERCIVAL
153.JUNE
154.PERCIVAL
Monday, September 25, 2006
1. LEONARD
Okay, listen. I was underground, right? In New York, where I lived. This girl from my building named Vonnie rode the subway with me, screaming metal and blinking lights flowed outside plastic windows. Each block was its own universe, galaxies flew by like graffiti stars.
When our station finally roared in, the doors pinged open, and we went up: out of the dark, humid underground into the city swirling colors. We went to get moondust from this kid named Clyde.
He lived in SoHo somehow, in a second story apartment. The sun still shone. But, time was flying. I was 26 and aimlessly flowing around town. I hustled for the cash I needed, I did anything and everything, but mostly stayed small time: scrapping, small scams, grabbing stuff, selling stuff—things like that. The money sucked, though.
I’d never tried moondust before. It was something new, and new drugs could be real bad. But, I’d known Clyde for years. We ran together, and you can only really know someone when you hustle. So I figured moondust was safe ‘cause he wouldn’t give me anything heavy. And I figured it was good shit because I texted him, but didn’t hear from the dude in three weeks; when he finally got up with me, this morning, he sounded different, and all he’d say was, “You have to try this shit.” So I called up Vonnie and told her we were going for a ride. She asked to which stop, I answered the one in her cerebellum. I sai
d get ready and hung up, and got her, and we rode metal underground.
Now, on the streets again, kicking our toes at the sky, Vonnie kept bugging me because she wanted to know what to expect.
“What’s this called again?”
“The name ain’t gonna change no matter how many times you ask.”
We got to his house, rang the buzzer, and clicked up the stairs. When I knocked on the door, it opened, because it was dead bolted ajar. Inside Clyde sat on his couch in boxers and a wife beater, holding a vial of gray powder, with his eyes closed and banging around under the lids. But, he was grinning and crying, and his hand kept going up, moving like he tried to feel something.
We watched him do that for a while, not speaking. Wasn’t any need to talk, seeing what we saw.
I swear my pupils dilated out of sheer expectation.
Eventually, his eyes slowed. He breathed suddenly, real deep, and opened his eyes. He dried some tears, then looked up at Vonnie and me.
And all he said was, “You guys got to try this shit.”
2. CLYDE
I saw God.
God is alien to us, completely. Not at all like they say. They always said God made us in His image, I always pictured Him something like us. God is nothing like us, more like a living sun. But, also so far beyond that. We can’t imagine, we can’t get anywhere close.
I saw the truth. That’s what this drug did, and you can’t tell me different. Ain’t no language for the feeling. Best high ever.
The first time I took moondust, I was up on Bedford, at some rooftop party. All these arty kids lived in the building. Anyway, I stood by the ledge checking out the scene and spotted some kids nearby doing what I thought was coke. My product was pure, I was looking to expand my business, and these fools had enough money to pay whatever I asked. Once I realized that I could get top dollar from rich hipsters, I never went back. So I walked over to them, and I pulled out my bag, and I said, “Hey.”
“What?” One of them said, with the hard edge of someone who’d just been interrupted doing drugs.
“Can I join? First lines are free, and my shit is bomb.”
I’m bold so I did this kind of thing, even though it wasn’t really done. You didn’t roll up on people in the city. But, I wasn’t much for following rules, none of these kids were thugs, and I was a hell of a salesman.
First step: Set their minds at ease, make them feel in control. But, these kids’ eyes had none of the fear or distrust I expected.
“You got the bomb, huh?” One dude said, mocking. “You think we need you?”
I answered, “I’ll put a hundred on mine being better than whatever you got.”
They all laughed. That never happened before.
“I’ll take that bet,” another said.
So I opened my bag to start cutting small lines. But, the guy who’d spoken last, a black kid with a neck tattoo, held up his hand saying, “Wait. We aren’t looking to do coke, I just want your money. So you’re going to try mine, and then you’re going to give me a hundred dollars.”
That threw me off. “Coke?”
“No. Moondust.”
“What the hell is moondust?”
“You’ve never heard of it. But, it’s safe. You’ll have some and pay me for the privilege, because we made a bet. Right?”
I nodded. He took out his baggie, and said, “Sit down and hold one eye open.” And when I did, he dropped powder into my eyes, and my back arched, and I disconnected from my body.
Another world, made of solid light.
When I came out of it, I gave him a hundred dollars and three hundred more for a good amount of moondust. He wouldn’t give me his phone-number or name.
Before moondust, I never thought much about religion one way or another. This, however, was G-O-D. But, I didn’t want to philosophize, I just wanted to go back. Only there was no going back. When I took moondust again, I went somewhere else, into another person’s life: a beggar in Madras.
The third time I took it, I saw the world through the eyes of a Scotsman.
After that, I was a farmer in some hot, sun-dark nation. Next, a shopkeeper in Asia. After that, a homemaker.
I never felt anything like it. Not quite a high, just a wild, fully realized experience. Like, absolutely, 100 percent realistic, I was truly inside other people. But, I couldn’t control nothing, I was along for the ride.
So when my boy William called me up, yammering about how I’d been MIA for weeks, I told him to come here, because we had business to attend. The guy who gave it to me was right, his stuff was better than mine. I planned on fixing that.
3. YVONETTE
My name is Vonnie and
I’m an actress and I
Tried moondust ‘cause this guy I knew, William,
He called my house and then came to my door. I was asleep when the phone rang,
And he didn’t notice.
He said we were going on an adventure and
I like adventure so I agreed
And we went into Manhattan.
SoHo is so electric. I was wearing:
Rainbow colored wool gloves, a light white jacket over a red blouse, a green un-slit denim miniskirt, black tights, and black
Pumas with red trim.
William, wearing a yellow T-shirt, old jeans, and filthy sneakers.
Took me to this guy’s apartment, Clyde. Near Broadway. I don’t remember which street. But, it was a real dirty apartment.
I would have told this Clyde guy so,
But when we arrived he was so-o f’ed up!
We just stood there, watching him for a while,
He was talking to himself and making noises like an animal.
Then he came out of it.
“You gotta try this stuff” is what he said then.
Do you want to know about me?
My name is Yvonette. It’s a silly name.
I tell people that my friends call me Vonnie.
Viola! Instant friends.
Not that I need them, but I like it when people are kind to each other.
I’m a dancer and actress, but I’ve never gotten paid to act or dance and
I really wait tables and
I stopped auditioning.
Just-can’t-do-it-right-now.
I didn’t like my parents.
They were uptight.
Okay people, but horrible parents, maybe. I didn’t worry about it too much.
Except—and this was important—
I always thought, “Fuck God.”
Because most of the reason they were bad parents was their heads were up Jesus’ ass all day.
They treated me so badly, kept me prisoner,
Because, “I ignored the Lord’s will.” Told to me by whom?
Them? And how did they know?
And why did the Lord care so much if my room was clean?
I ran away from home. When they found me, they dragged me home, and things were worse.
I just waited until I was 18, too old to be stopped, and left for good.
“Fuck God” was what I’d think if you asked me if I believed.
I’d say something more polite,
But not really. And I’d do it with relish.
I was so over it. Because God wasn’t even real. The thing that fucked my childhood up was my parents’ imaginary friend.
I believed that until this guy Clyde shoved powder into my eye.
Afterward, all I could say was, “No way” and leave. I just knew I’d never do moondust again.
4. WILLIAM
It went like this: we sat down on the couch, and he smiled like the serpent. “Ladies first,” he said. Then he started talking to Vonnie, softy, to reassure her.
“Open your eye. Hold it open. Yeah, like that. Okay, don’t blink now.”
He dropped some powder into her eye. Her eyes closed.
Her mouth opened.
She gasped, writhed, and tears came down her face. Her expression read somewhere b
etween ecstasy, horror, and fury.
“Whoa,” I said. “Where is she?”
“Oh man, she’s in Heaven,” Clyde said.
I didn’t take him seriously. Meanwhile, her face kept flowing between joy and rage.
“So, what’ve you been up to?” I asked, to make conversation.
“Pretty much, this,” Clyde answered.
“What’s it like?”
“So far, it’s different every time.”
“Oh.”
We watched Vonnie in silence, for about three more minutes, until she came out of it. When she did, she went insane. Like, horns sprouted from her head. She started swearing and throwing things across the room. Whatever she could grab: a pen, a plastic cup, a bag of potato chips, a dirty plate. Clyde didn’t do nothing, he just stood there. He let her tire herself out. When she did, she started yelling.
“What the fuck was that? You asshole, you couldn’t have warned me?”
Clyde asked, “What could I have said?”
“Fuck you. This is bullshit.”
She grabbed her purse, stormed out, and slammed the door.
In the silence she left, Clyde and I looked at each other. Through the walls, we heard the click of her heels stop, and the sound of Vonnie retching somewhere in the hallway. We studied the door, imagining.
“What’s in this shit?” I said, impressed.
“I… actually don’t know. But, it’s safe though.”
“If you don’t know what’s in it, what makes you sure it’s safe?”
“Trust me.”
“Okay.”
I took a deep breath, and I put my hands to my eye and held back the lids. The lids fought me for control, trying to close. Clyde stood above me and moved gigantic, fuzzy zeppelin fingers right above my eyeball.
Some dust fell into my eye, and it stung like hell. But, only for a split second.
Then I couldn’t feel anymore.
I went down a tunnel, but my body stayed behind.
All of my body’s sensations, like my heart, my pulse, and my skin, felt so far away I quickly forgot them. I was only spirit or soul or energy. Our physical realm was out there, somewhere, but it meant jack to me.
Listen, no way you can imagine that unless you’ve experienced it.
My soul swam in light. In joy.
Not that the word joy cuts it. That word is tied to worldly pleasure or happiness, both of which are thin, flimsy tricks, mockeries of what’s up there.
Afterward, you can’t even remember, not really. It’s impossible for your brain to recall a place so far beyond you, something far too big for your mind to hold. You’d felt things you couldn’t dream.
