MOONLIT CALL
I was young when I first saw him. Very young. Four, maybe five. I remember it clearly though. I'd woken in the middle of the night and been drawn to the window by the bright moon's glow. I didn't notice at the time but I know now it must have been a full moon. I looked out the window and the familiar view of the garden and fields beyond had been transformed into a magical land by the moonlight. And I saw him standing in the fields just beyond our garden, staring back up at me.
How to describe him? He was older than me, but only by a few years. Tight curly hair, pale face and, well, radiating warmth. Friendliness. I knew he wanted me to play, wanted me to come outside. Something in his face, the way he held himself, spoke of boundless energy, of games to be played
