Out there over the widespread plains of the dreary lands, the waning, horned moon outshone everything with its brilliant radiance. It delicately painted the landscape with a pale white against the gloomy black of the night. The moon's radiant beams filled the air with dreadful grandeur and wicked majesty, while a dark, sinister vibe emanated from its fathomless craters. Like gaping holes they loomed large, and they made the crescent look glum and miserable; it appeared so sorrowful that it would even embrace the darkness of the night and shed a tear if it could.
For long, lonesome nights, I gazed at the weeping moon, keenly marking down it's subtlest changes. I witnessed it wax into a fat full moon and then wane into a scarcely visible line. Despite the form it assumed, the melancholy of the moon always prevailed; it was desperate and resentful, as if it felt and thought. Whenever I recounted this macabre tale, I was laughed at by everyone. To them, the assumption that the moon had sentiments was "purely ridiculous".
Yet I ignored them and ignored their lack of insight. Even though they didn't believe me, I persisted and decided to continue discerning the frail moon. The subject became of utmost importance to me that I dedicated my existence to it; I slept in the day and studied the moon in my vigil. With the passing of time, I withdrew more and more from normal life and became a nocturnal creature with one obsession; the crescent moon lingering in the night sky. As I accumulated more knowledge on the bleak subject, more and more lunar secrets unmasked themselves and disclosed their true forms, which were quite variant but always mystical and horrible. Some were decipherable, while others were so unearthly and queer. However, they were all ominous and disturbing.
It was all fine and tolerable until I saw the accursed shapes. Shapes so queer and obscure emerged from the feeble outline of the floating crescent moon. Shapes so dark and terrifying. Beasts, monsters, morbidities beyond even the most lunatic of imaginations. They haunted me in my days and nights, while a mere thought of them was enough to induce agony in me. Even my dreams became fraught with them and sent me into realms so chaotic and twisted. In my waking hours, I sent the shapes away with my blessings and litanies, but they prevailed. Fear and dismay were everything I felt now; with the lunar bestiaries lurking about, I couldn't but feel anxious and apprehensive.
When I was sure that the torment of the lunar shapes was inescapable, I decided it was done. My life had lost its precious worth. Standing by the window that exposed the lurking moon and the morbidities residing in it, I drew a kitchen knife close to my neck, and within a moment, blood began to trickle down my chest, making my horrified heart beat only faster. I gazed at the moon; I looked it in the eye. I saw it as it laughed at my sheer misery and crowed over my faint submission to death. Within moments, it waxed into its full form and then began to grow until it concealed the black of the sky. The new moon, with its prodigiously vast proportions, grinned evilly; it's maniacal eyes were so cruel and savage that I couldn't tolerate the mere sight. Agonized and hopeless, I drew the knife close to my heart. I called upon what remained of my strength and brutally stabbed myself. The impact was crushing, so I stumbled uncontrollably and fell to the ground. As my blood ran out, a sense of extreme joy and ultimate glee washed over me, for I saw the expression on the moon's grotesque face alter as it hastily waned and faded from sight. I had killed myself, and killed the moon with me