The Perfect Match

He was sitting on the stone floor in the Hall of Prayer with his mind creating the worlds that he was the master of. He was about thirty-five, his head was shaved, and he was wearing a black kimono beneath black robes held shut in the front with a sash1. It was quite chilly for August, but his body didn’t feel the cold wind that was getting through the open windows of the ancient2 pagoda nor the coldness of the old stones he was sitting on. He could feel that soon he would be able to project his power to the real world around him. The monks in the temple he was in knew better than to disturb him during his meditations. For the past five years, his power was constantly enhancing3, and the monks could feel that too.

There were three steps in his process of achieving Control, where he could feel that the power of his thought could make things move and bend4 other people’s ability to think and overpower their emotions. Before getting to Control, however, there was Calmness and Detachment5. He was in the process of getting calm when a bright lightning of a sharp emotion pierced6 through his mind. He saw the image of his father. He frowned7 at this unexpected occurrence8 and opened his eyes.

“He’s dead,” he whispered.

He sat in silence for another minute. His face relaxed and a smile appeared.

“At last.”

Back to Business

“Look at the Moon,” Lizzy said, pointing to the bright big blueish9 circle in the sky.

“It looks lonely,” Mark said.

They were sitting outside a country cottage that belonged to Lizzy’s mother, which now belonged to Lizzy. There was no way for her to go back to the apartment she used to share with her late boyfriend. The police were still looking for her in connection with the dead body that her neighbors started to smell and called the authorities to investigate. Her cousin Anastasia, being her closest friend and next of kin10, put away some of her stuff in storage after the police cleared the crime scene. When Lizzy reached out to Anastasia, it took a lot of effort to convince her cousin that she was fine and not brainwashed by some cult. There was a reason why she could not contact the police just yet. Lizzy could not reveal why she was absent for more than two months either and tried not to see any other friends to avoid interrogation11. Everything had to be done discreetly12. The less people knew that she was back the better.

“It’s not lonely, it has the Earth,” she said and put her head on Mark’s shoulder. “Tonight, it’s called Blue Moon.”

It was a bit chilly outside, and they were wrapped in a quilt13 that Lizzy’s mother bought in some mountain village in Thailand where she went with her father, Peter, before they got married.

“Is it always blue here?” he asked.

“It’s actually not blue at all. It’s just a name for the second full moon in a month, I think.”

“How many full moons do you usually get?”

“I think there are twelve, but occasionally you get the 13^>th. That’s Blue Moon.”

“I don’t think our moons get to be called anything. They’re just moons. Boring. I like your Blue Moon, even though it still looks lonely to me.”

“Tell me more about your world,” she asked, getting cozier by his side.

“I need to learn more about yours to know the differences better, don’t I.”