Cerpen Rembulan Dimata Ibu Mga Nobela at Kwento

Moon asked when he saw Zero staring at him, Zero shook his head. “I was just wondering if, where is your parent.” Zero said. "Liar, what I read in your mind is how old I am." Moon said widening Zero's eyes. "Can you read my mind?" Zero asked, Moon nodded. "Yes, I'm 10 years old, and my mother is at home." Moon said then stood up. "Do you want us to play first so we don't get bored?" Moon asked, a smile immediately flashed on Zero's lips then nodded. "All right!" Said Zero, the two played until it was almost dark. They waited for the lanterns to be lit and for them to fly. It started when they flew their lanterns together and sat on the grass and then watched their lanterns fly.

I know how to practically express my love for her but literally “Betty? I just can’t” The only memory I had on my mind was about the shooting star, I remembered gazing at the sky filled with tiny twinkling stars spread across the sky beautifully, I recalled my Abuela telling me stories of the sky, moons, and stars. Okay… I’m really very bad at remembering past events, but I’m sure it’s something about the moon and her children which are obviously the stars and how she watches over them regardless of how they’re scattered around the sky, she still watches all over them. My Abuela isn’t the best at bedtime stories, but she can’t afford to to see me lonely or sad after my Mother’s sudden death.

I knew something was wrong even though no one was saying anything. All I could remember was my mother rushing out into the night and looking so sad and dissociated with a lot more eye bags under her eyes than usual. Then, she would tell me that the reason she had little eyebags was because as a Luna, she had so much to oversee sometimes that it weighed down her eyes. I believed now that she was telling me the softest version of the truth and not how my father was a control freak even to her last departing breath.

I stood up and walked to my closet as I picked a nightwear, and put it on, at times like this seeing Moon's face is what always strengthens me, so I dialed my mother's number and thankfully she picked, “Mum?” “Dear it's night time already, why haven't you slept?” “Mum, can I see Moon's face please” “He's already asleep dear but I'll take the phone to show you” “Thank you mum” I smiled, wiping my tears. My mum walked for a while before she got to where Moon is “Here is Moon” She focussed the camera to his face and as soon as I set my eyes on him, all my worries slowly faded away,

First Person’s Perspective Elena The moonlight shone through the curtains. The room was quiet. The air was warm and still. A soft breeze came in from the open window. It carried the scent of pine trees and distant earth, the familiar smell of our land after sunset. I sat on the bed, holding baby Amelia in my arms. She was wide awake, even though it was almost midnight. I smiled at her. “Still not sleepy?” I asked gently.

SAPPHIRE It’s been 3 moons since I saw my father. I had never been apart from him my whole life, a certain dread lingered in the air but I wasn’t alone in the loneliness. The silence has been heavy, all that could he heard was the rustling of leaves and the clattering of the wheels against the rocky path. “I’ve heard stories of the camp” a whisper called me out of my thoughts. The moon was crescent and the light was dim, I could not see the face, but the scent reached my nose - she was human.

SYRA The soft scent of lilac drifted in the air as I leaned into her palm, her thumb gently tracing circles on my cheek like she used to when I’d get nightmares as a child. “Mum,” I whispered again, still unsure if saying it too loudly would break the fragile miracle in front of me. Janet Moonclaw smiled down at me, her silver lashes misted with tears. “My baby. Look at you… so grown, so strong.” Her fingers combed gently through my hair, brushing it behind my ear the same way she used to before bedtime stories. Every stroke was a heartbeat of comfort, a language that only a mother and daughter could speak.

Still, the harsh reality of the pack weighed heavily, suffocating, constant. By the hearth, the remnants of the day’s work lay scattered: water buckets, pots, scraps of food. I sank to my knees again, scrubbing furiously, feeling the familiar ache in my muscles. My mind drifted to a simpler time, before Maxwell, before rejection—when my mother would read to me from old stories of the Moon Goddess and her chosen mates. I remembered laughing, warmth spreading through my chest, her hands holding mine as she said, “One day, your mate will come, Emily. You’ll feel it in your soul.”

Below them, in the keep that was slowly becoming something different from what it had been, a small girl with silver-grey eyes finally ran out of story and fell asleep between one sentence and the next, one hand curled under her cheek, dreaming in a language older than wolves. The moon moved overhead, patient and full and unimpressed by the small braveries of the world below it. The bond held.The family stood.And Blackmoor breathed toward a morning it had not known how to find until now.