Public Critique: MOONY HILL

Good morning!  Today I have an excerpt from a 695-word story called MOONY HILL by Dana Gaar up for critique.  The excerpt gives a taste of the beginning and end, and she envisioned it as a picture book but says that may change.  If you have the time, please give it a read and offer any advice or constructive criticism you may have.  If you're interested in having a query, synopsis, or excerpt posted on Lit Rambles for critique, check out my contribute page.

ETA:  At Dana's request, I've posted the full story.

 

MOONY HILL
By Dana Gaar

 

Walking to a party over Moony Hill 

Where trees are blushing and autumn’s revealed

 

In the hollow below, in the late night air

Tables covered with drinks and plenty of fare

 

A bonfire is roaring 

to lessen the chill 

But we’ve all 

heard the legend of Moony Hill

 

Spun by our fathers

in the full moon light

Tales of old man Moony

and his mean old wife

 

The rumor is wild and the tale it is tall

A time after summer, before the snow fall

They lived back in the woods

at the top of a rise

And fought night and day

for most of their lives.

Legend’s not clear

what happened to him

But she was found headless

where daylight is dim

The hill remained quiet

for a day and a year

When the harvest moon rose,

we thought we could hear. . .

Some say it’s a panther

at times we hear wail

Though seen many nights

by those who dare tell

Alone before dusk,

you may do what you will

Her head in her hands,

she haunts twilight till

 

But the stories are old 

and it’s been a long time

Things parents made up 

to get children to mind

 

Though it’s quite dark, it won’t be that bad

Let’s not be afraid, there’s fun to be had

 

A moonlit ride in a wagon of hay

A quiver and shiver at the coyote’s bay

 

Legs that dangled when the night owl screeched

Were quickly pulled up and tucked underneath

 

The wind would howl 

and the bushes would wiggle

Bringing squeals and shrieks 

that turned into giggles

 

The graveyard crept by

in a ‘lay in wait’ manner

While the hair on our necks 

belied our brave banter 

 

Roasting wienies on sticks

round the great open blaze

Dark phantoms behind 

danced in long fiery waves

 

Burnt to a crisp 

were a dozen marshmallows  

Glancing over our shoulders 

at strange moving shadows

 

Wearing sly little grins

we poked and we picked

Deliciously soaked

in the hour of the witch

 

At the end of the night when the haunting was done

We banded together as though we were one

 

Walking home from the party back over the hill

We laughed at the things that gave us a chill

 

But black is the color of autumn at night

Different shades of the same creep around in moonlight

 

Sounds are so different when light’s not around

They’re louder and closer and fearfully bound

 

Hearts jumped in our chests 

when we heard the low moan,

Was it animal, wind, or the trees that had groaned?

 

Impossible to tell if imagined or real

We all drew in close, hushing our squeal

 

Some looked to the left others looked to the right

Wishing for home with all of our might

 

The air was quite fluffy, like clouds on the ground

We could not see up, we could not see down

 

When you look hard enough 

the darkness takes form

Like clouds in the sky 

on a cool autumn morn

 

Is that moss hanging down in the trees just ahead 

Or giant black bats about to be fed?

 

We teased each other with a joke and a dare

Cringing with dread, but in love with the scare

 

Just about then 

as we rounded the curve

We heard a far wail 

and there went our nerve

 

Is that?  Oh my! You think it could it be? 

Go see! No way! Please go before me!

 

The legend of old no longer a lark

Lady Moony’s arrived so we must depart!

 

With the swoop of a bat, 

we missed not a beat

The only thing left 

was the dust from our feet!

 

Running and screaming does not require balance

Tripping, not falling, now that takes some talent!

 

Did you see? Yes, I saw! Though he shook his head no.

Was it her? Yes, I’m sure! I felt her so close!

 

We gasped and we panted and started to slow

With hands on our knees, a thought started to grow

 

Of all the night’s spooks and whimsical ghosts

We find, after all, we’d scared ourselves most!

Dana Gaar