Moon
in Bastet
by
E.S. Danon
Genre:
Fantasy, Magical Realism
A
memoir turned into thrilling fiction; Moon in Bastet is based on the
life of author E. S. Danon. The story follows a fourteen-year-old
girl named Eva, an orphan living in the Negev desert of Israel who is
working as a custodian of Cirque Du Christianisme.
Her
life is controlled by a volatile drunk named Bella who favors a group
of equally volatile teenage bullies, the Christian boys. Bullied,
neglected, and alone - Eva's only friends are an odd,
thirteen-year-old Sephardic boy named Jack and a small cohort of
Bedouin sister-wives.
On
the brink of giving up on life, Eva stumbles upon a mysterious cat in
the middle of the desert. Or really, did the cat stumble upon her?
Filled with mystery, magic, and symbolism - Moon in Bastet is a story
of resilience, survivorship, forgiveness, and women
empowerment.
This
is a work filled with Jewish mysticism that can be enjoyed by people
of all races, ages, and religions everywhere.
Amazon
* B&N
* Google
* Kobo
* AbeBooks
* Book
Depository * Hurn
Publications
EXCERPT ONE
A mosaic of moonlight drifts over the breaking waves. Designs illustrated in silvers whisper a story by the observant full moon. Anticipation rips through the midnight air as an assortment of shells wash ashore, decoration for the celebration at hand.
Several fawn play inside of a tidal pool, tripping over each other’s hooves, while various crabs scurry to find cover. The does watch from the spartina covered marshes, less willing to get involved in the gambol of their children. A lone buck stands guard near the subtle alchemy of the ocean as the moonlight shimmers off his bone-white rack.
Soft pitter-patter echoes towards the beach: red, brown, gray, and white paws scurry stealthily through the wooded oasis. Streaks of fur can be seen flashing underneath the breaks in the treetops - Evergreens, Oaks, and Pines say their hellos as the creatures of the night began to gather at the shoreline.
A menagerie of insects hurry amongst the mossy forest bottom, following the outlines of fresh animal tracks.
Worker bees open their eyes and groggily buzz from the confines of their honeycombs; each of them carrying a parcel of honey. Together they dance in unison around the honeycomb, mimicking the sound of trumpets with their wings. The Queen Bee abruptly emerges to monitor her brood before inspecting herself: Every bristle is in place, held by honey made gel. Soon, the bees follow a parade of centipedes and worms traveling below.
A white wolf breaks through the trees; his body illuminated against the thick wall of forest at his back. Dozens of wolves emerge from behind him as he lets out a single howl, just before catching sight of the buck standing guard. Both alpha males nod in recognition of each other as an amber painted pup runs excitedly ahead of the pack, all too excited to meet the fawns in the tidal pool. The pup breaks through the water’s edge before tumbling down a small embankment of peat.
Flop!
She yelps with glee as water springs up all around her, turning rocks and snails upside down with her snout. Some of the does prop their heads up to inspect the noise as the fawns cautiously approach the pup.
In no time, the children are engaged in a pretend search and rescue mission with each other.
What will they find in nature’s watercolor tapestry?
The white wolf takes position next to the buck; both creatures now standing guard of their families.
Dolphins jump through the churning waves several feet away as a caravan of sea animals emerge through the crashing surf.
First come the sea turtles: Moving leathery, black boulders covered in mountainous ridges march forward, followed by mini, starburst-colored ovals. A single hawked sea turtle is the last of his kind to emerge, carrying a sand dollar - a token of appreciation - within his beak.
Next the seal pups begin wobbling onto shore, their mothers following close behind. Like watching fireworks in the sky, the pups reflect in awe of the celebration on shore from their discotheque eyes. Their mothers quickly nudge them forward, making way for the rest of the cohort.
Within moments, dozens of horseshoe crabs and whelks begin to make landfall.
Meanwhile, in the forest, Queen Bee flies ahead of her workers until noticing that her soldiers are slowing; she calls out to them, ordering them to keep moving.
The time has almost come.
A group of squirrels overhear the Queen Bee’s calls, prompting a tizzy among lofty tree branches. Mr. Snow Owl comes to attention as they frantically collect acorns. He plucks a feather from underneath his wing before flying past the squirrels and towards the shoreline.
The time is near.
Gifts begin to pile around a mound of mud within the chasms of the tidal zones: a sand dollar, the owl’s feather, and now randomly placed acorns. A garden snake slides through the mess, shedding his skin - followed by the molting of a lobster nearby.
A shadow crosses the moon then, just before various species of birds clatter to the ground below. A swan lands last with a bellow of her song, and in unison, the wolf pack returns the call. The dolphins respond to the melody by becoming more calculated in their movements, smoothing into a perfect rhythm with the songs now being sung by the ever-growing crowd of Mother Nature’s tribe.
It’s as if a drum is being played:
Boom.
Boom Boom.
Boom.
Boom Boom.
A heartbeat.
The expanding mound blooms into a large circle consisting of multiple sections. The inner circle holds the gifts, the middle circle shelters the juvenile animals surrounded by their mothers, and the outer circle consists of the older animals.
The time is almost here.
Queen Bee breaks through the woodlands and is met by a breeze. In response to her arrival, the congregation pauses briefly… only to erupt in song. The guardians at the shoreline bow their heads, kneeling onto their two front legs in order to greet the Queen Bee.
After kissing both guardians on their foreheads, she signals to her crew to make their final descent. A cloud of buzzing wings hums as they approach the middle of the circle with caution, then the inner circle. The Queen Bee ferociously shakes her wings and immediately, her workers dive down to smother the exposed mud in honey.
It is almost done.
The animals steadily move in a counterclockwise circle.
Tick.
Tick.
Tock.
The rhythm of the creatures becomes increasingly sonorous.
Off in the distance, the figure of a goat and her kid can be seen approaching.
Tick.
Tick.
Tock.
Mother goat and her child meticulously walk through the outer circle of churning animals. They are meandering through the middle circle when the wolf pup howls in excitement. Startled, the young kid topples over the hill of trinkets and slides into the patch of honey-soaked mud. Mother goat follows, spilling a drop of milk at her kid’s annoyed squeal.
Everything stops.
Even the air seems to have come to a halt.
Mother goat nudges her kid back over the trench of gifts and into the middle circle where they wait.
Everything waits.
Minutes go by before even the faintest touch of a breeze can be felt. The Queen Bee’s wings twinge at the coolness; she gazes towards the inner circle’s center. The white wolf and the buck move to stand beside the Queen when enervated rumbles suddenly upset the milk and honey-soaked patch. Something is trying to break through the surface…
Without warning, peat erupts from the patch: then two budding leaves climb their way through the film.
Swan sounds her horn, signifying that the deed has been done.
The Moon child has been born.
Finally.
EXCERPT TWO
Mist twinkles atop the desert sand as a cohort of camels take their morning promenade. A girl runs past them, chasing the rising globe of fire.
Her breath labors as she slips on a rock.
“Ugh!”
A perfect little scrape forms on her knee, but she continues onward and unfazed.
Her skin is olive tinted; her head covered by a canopy of endless brown, curly hair. On her face sit two prominent beauty marks, on either side of her mouth. She is slender and not yet fully grown, but by no means does she have a frail frame. She wears a beige, spaghetti strapped dress that is knee length and complete with a secret pocket - all of which is covered in dirt. A headband woven from plants and flowers sits around the girl’s head.
This girl is named Eva.
She sprints up another dune’s side, her dress ballooning around her as she sits suddenly with crossed legs. The mirage of the sun’s gaseous performance begins to play on the horizon; another Israeli sun rise in the Negev. Like toy soldiers, the sun’s rays advance in a medley of oranges and yellows. Pink is usually reserved for sunrises - however on this day, a rosy aura is cast around the girl as she grabs a rock and casts it towards the sun: This is how a desert girl skips rocks. Next, she takes aim at the arse of the nearest camel.
The rock misses by centimeters, causing a fuss amongst the cohort, but Eva’s almond shaped, brown eyes glisten.
“G-d! Adonai! Where are you? I see you in the colors of the sky!” Her voice echoes as her eyes drift upon the sunrise. “Why are you ignoring me like everyone else does? I feel you in the warmth of light but where are you? Why haven’t you rescued me yet?” She shivers and brings her bare feet in closer to herself. “Can you at least give me a jacket? You’re not very gentleman-like, you know… it’s really chilly this morning.”
Eva puckers her lips in defeat, and then meditates in the following silence, focusing on the warmth ricocheting from the sand and onto her goosebumps.
“Well at least my cramps are gone,” she says once her anxiety diminishes – massaging her lower stomach, happy that her most recent predicament has gone away. “But yet I still must deal with the cramp of life: being unheard and misunderstood.”
Reminded of the reason why she came to pray in the first place, Eva turns to the sky and gives a cloud a dirty look. “G-d, you have approximately twenty-four hours or I will throw rocks at every camel that I see! I can’t survive in that stupid Circus another day.” She throws a finger towards the unsuspecting cloud in the sky and pauses, thinking of a way to coax G-d into saving her.
“You know what - if you like your camels so much, then you better get me out of this place!” Shaking her head, she mumbles, “I’ll just throw rocks at each of their heads. Not like they would care. They’re already dumb… dumb camels.” She looks at a moon shaped scar on the top of her hand, given to her by one of the water-hoarding creatures several years ago.
“Dumb camels,” she repeats.
Silence again is all that responds to Eva once she finishes speaking to herself. She slumps over, shrugs, and decides to head back to her home that sits half-a-mile away from the dunes.
Her feet slip on the sand, causing her to lift her left hand to her face. She huffs as she thinks of her favorite book; reading it gives her solace in her own solitude. Eva sighs, feeling stuck in an ocean made of sand and trapped with her own imaginary desert marlin. She’s already picked out several camels to act as the sharks.
Ironically, one of the camels spits at her as she passes – as if asking, “Where’s your rock – dumb human?”
“Rude,” she mutters in response.
Eva finds her way to a camp studded with only several architectural structures that is surrounded by seven-foot-high wall made of sand. There is only one exit and one entrance, a sky-high rectangular structure made of wood that suffices as a gate. As she skips under it, a sign that reads Cirque du Christianism sways after her.
Officially home, she is welcomed by an array of Circus tents.
Her lazy footsteps saunter past the main tent to her right, soon halting as she approaches a much smaller blue tent. Looking back towards a white tipi, she can feel her body tensing as she holds her breath before leaping forward in front of the blue tent.
I hope he doesn’t attract attention to me.
Elizabeth Danon
received her B.S. in Marine Science from Stony Brook
University before working as a Marine Biologist for
the National Marine Fisheries Service. She traveled the
U.S. Eastern Seaboard and Gulf of Mexico: collecting data aboard
commercial fishing vessels and dredges.
When that didn’t pan
out to be the glorified job that she expected, finding herself
covered in shark snot and fish scales daily, Elizabeth became a
technical writer. In her spare time, she began doing standup comedy
after taking comedy bootcamp with the Armed Services Arts
Partnership. At this time, she married the most wonderful man who
also provides most of her joke writing material. Unfortunately,
because he’s Indian he has also enabled her Maggi addiction… Like
she needed that on top of her already long-standing iced coffee
issues.
Her favorite show
is Schitt’s Creek, as she feels a special bond to her
fellow comedians – and Sephardic brethren. Growing up half-Jewish
herself, Elizabeth eventually converted to being full-Jewish with
Temple Israel as a student of Rabbi Panitz.
Her enriched, but
complicated, heritage has been an inspiration for most of her
creative writing. Being an Aries, she has always felt like a leader
and has therefore integrated her feminist beliefs into her work,
albeit dropping every women’s studies course that she ever elected
in college. Additionally, her writing has an unmistakable
international presence. Elizabeth wanted to discover as much as she
could about her Sephardic Heritage and went on Birthright,
followed by her independent travels to over ten other countries…
carrying nothing but a red bookbag.
$10 Amazon
Comments
Post a Comment