A Trip to the Moon

The clock struck twelve and it was midnight. Hawthorne Shears, a scruffy eight-year old beggar boy looked around his new bedroom with a trance-like sort of gaze. It was simply too good to be true. For once in his life he was actually experiencing comfort when just a few days ago the word "comfort" itself seemed like a concept beyond him. Hawthorne had been adopted just today by a couple who had taken pity on him. Sporting sandy short hair and eyes that matched, Hawthorne must have been just too adorable for them to resist.

Now lying in his bed and looking through the window, Hawthorne's attention was instantly drawn to the full moon hanging up there in the deep blue sky. Moonlight flooded into his bedroom illuminating it with an unearthly glow and it seemed as if the moon was beaming at him. Hawthorne had never felt this contented before with newly bought teddy bears that flanked him on both sides. He must have drifted off to sleep for the next thing he knew, a fat hippopotamus-like ballet dancer appeared at his side and took his hand. Together they danced and danced nearer and nearer towards the moon until his bedroom seemed like only a small speck in the distance. Hawthorne felt weightless and truly, he was happy.

The next morning when the couple came in to check on Hawthorne, they found him lying on the bed with a tranquil expression on his face. Calling his name once, twice they received no response nor would they ever receive any for Hawthorne had passed away peacefully in his sleep.