Waves crashed against whatever remained of Eshwar’s feet. He stared at the moon. The moon fairy appeared, shimmering like silver. He looked at her, his eyes twinkling the same way, as when he first saw her – but this time with anxious anticipation.
“Eshwar,” she whispered, kissing him on his thin lips.
As if by magic, his shortened legs reshaped. Muscles enveloped his bony fingers. His spine was firm and straight. He stood upright, feeling his form in full bloom, a mass of flesh and bones. The white gown hugging the fairy’s petite frame glowed beneath the full moon.
“For how long do I continue to be cursed?” he asked, despair fogging his words.
“Forever,” she answered, holding his hand tightly for a moment before vanishing.
He looked at the sea, black and fierce, darting to the shore.
A year earlier, on a full moon night, he had been by the sea, the soft breeze echoing like windchimes. That night, she had emerged from nowhere, casting her spell on him the moment their eyes met. Months after their first meeting, on another full moon night, the distance between them vanished as their lips brushed, then deepening into something hungry.
Days later, he began to diminish, fading with each passing night, as if the moon had taken a part of him with it. On the new moon night, he vanished, lingering in the air, unseen.
From the next day onwards, he regrew in size, and when the fairy kissed him on a full moon night, he bloomed into fullness.
“I was cursed and to be free of it, I had to kiss a man who loved me,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“But the man I kiss will be cursed for life,” she added.
He drowned in regret while anger simmered within. He had loved her completely, but she took from him what she needed and destroyed him. Her touch, once soothing, now felt fatal.
“I need you to leave and never return,” he said, his eyes red.
“You need me. Only if I kiss you will you regain your complete form,” she replied, her gaze unflinching.
He hated those eyes, the same deep orbs he had once fallen for.
“Find me only on a full moon night,” he said, walking away.
He had fallen for an enchantress, and a moment of passion had sent him spiraling down the hole. If only he had refrained from kissing her, he would still be the best fisherman and not labeled a phantom. He wouldn’t be living in a hut on the shoreline, the waves and the moon—his only companions.
He looked at the moon, fear crawling under his skin. Memories of the chill piercing his bones, bright spots of blood lining his scarred skin, haunted him. He wanted to feel whole, not forever, but just for a bit.
“Dear Moon, will you ever pause?” he muttered, cradling his intact physique in his own arms, feeling a fleeting sense of peace.
