avatarGabriela Trofin-Tatár

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Abstract

ustom was to weave rushes into <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imbolc#/media/File:Saint_Brigid's_cross.jpg">a four-armed equilateral cross</a>.</p><p id="11b0">Later, after sunset, bonfires would be lit, and songs of old would echo through the streets, carrying the warmth of hope into every heart.</p><p id="817d">As we continued our journey towards the edge of the forest, we could feel something magical stirring, its tendrils weaving through the tangled branches and moss-covered stones. We had almost reached the path that led to <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-story-behind-my-grandparents-mirrorless-house-7c261f5e8dd0">our grandparents’ house</a>.</p><p id="608d">Still, even in the last row of trees, legends danced with shadows, and every whisper carried the echo of ancient secrets from before.</p><figure id="88c5"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*0dxsaot9S2aOqZUyuoMGXQ.jpeg"><figcaption><b>Generated with AI</b> ∙ 2024. február 10., <a href="https://www.bing.com/images/create/but-as-i-followed-her-gaze-upward2c-i-too-saw-the-s/1-65c7d7952f244d8390d0d8a923479a8d?id=WSm3xS1d3ALFwSrr4JDhPA%3d%3d&amp;view=detailv2&amp;idpp=genimg&amp;idpclose=1&amp;FORM=SYDBIC">Bing</a></figcaption></figure><p id="d355">Atlanta’s eyes widened as she noticed a sight unlike any other—a second moon, its silver glow veiled in shimmering mist. She could see two moons in the sky, but only one of them was real.</p><p id="a83e">This phenomenon defied the bounds of ordinary perception. We have heard about it and knew it as the Ghost Moon. But it was the first time one of us witnessed it.</p><p id="70ad"><i>“It’s… it’s impossible,</i>” Atlanta whispered, her voice barely more than a breath of wind. “<i>I must be seeing things.</i>” I could see her trembling momentarily.</p><p id="8f18">But as I followed her gaze upward, I too saw the second moon, its presence undeniable against the velvet canvas of the night sky. I could feel its mysticism as if reality had been woven anew. And yet, it was an impossible event.</p><p id="9783">Atlanta’s eyes were agape as the two spectral orbs cast a double-mirrored, otherworldly glow upon the woods.</p><p id="2c7b"><i>It’s the Ghost Moon,</i>” she said softly, her voice trembling with awe.</p><p id="3e27">We have read the legends of the Ghost Moon, a spirit of times past that emerged from shadows only on the night of Imbolc. It was said to be the spectral guardian of the forest, watching over the land ac

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ross centuries.</p><p id="b3c9">As we came out of the forest, the lights of the village slowly turned on.</p><p id="46b6">We joined our friends and families and gathered in the dim light of the Imbolc fires. Tradition and the hope of new beginnings were shining on everyone’s faces.</p><p id="2e61">But even as we danced and sang beneath the starlit sky, the mystery of the second moon lingered in the air.</p><p id="1910"><i>Was it only us who had seen the Ghost Moon? And if yes, why were we the chosen ones?</i></p><p id="372e">Perhaps it had to do a bit with our witchy ancestry and all the magic we felt whenever the old woods talked.</p><p id="7563">Back in the shadowed depths of the enchanted forest, the secrets of the veiled moon awaited, ready to reveal themselves to those who dared to seek them.</p><figure id="0754"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*g_qEx14NFb901R8MHdsBzw.jpeg"><figcaption>By steven earnshaw — originally posted to Flickr as Imbolc Festival February 3rd 2007, CC BY 2.0, <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5857970">Wikimedia</a></figcaption></figure><blockquote id="fc68"><p>Prompt: When you look up in the sky, you think you’re seeing things momentarily. But you’re not. Two moons are above you.</p></blockquote><div id="ee1c" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/creative-sparks-weekly-prompts-59bc5513d5fd"> <div> <div> <h2>Creative Sparks Weekly Prompts</h2> <div><h3>Your No-Stress Writing Playground</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*cgkl3-XrwSbNA4IE)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="9631"><i>Gabriela is passionate about tech and knowledge management. She is studying while being a mother of three small kids. This requires her to pay for some graduate programs and MOOCs to gain experience. She is writing articles on <a href="https://medium.com/@chicachiflada">Medium </a>and <a href="https://chicachiflada.substack.com/">Substack </a>to inspire others and fund her journey.</i></p><p id="be6e">Do you enjoy Gabriela’s articles?<a href="https://www.buymeacoffee.com/chicachiflada"> Buy her a tea</a> or a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/gabrielatrofintatar">Ko-Fi</a> to support her work.</p></article></body>

LODESTAR GAZETTE

Imbolc’s Veiled Moon

In search of the ghost moon’s secrets

“Imbolc, (Middle Irish, probably literally, “milking”), ancient Celtic religious festival, celebrated on February 1 to mark the beginning of spring. The festival apparently was a feast of purification for farmers and has been compared to the Roman lustrations. Imbolc was associated with the goddess Brigid, and after the Christianization of Europe the day of the festival became the feast day of St. Brigit.” — Encyclopedia Britannica

Generated with AI ∙ 2024. február 10., Bing

My cousin Atlanta and I often walked the forest paths together.

On this particular day, the sun was almost setting, and we were guided by the whispering leaves and the occasional wind blowing them. We were returning to our grandparents’ house after having fed the birds in our clearing.

The evening was slowly spreading its curtain over our world. I stopped in my tracks as Atlanta's gaze lingered on the moon for longer than usual, in a moment of whisper.

I could see it in her gaze; she was seeing something.

It’s the beginning of Imbolc, you know,” Atlanta said, her voice suspicious yet full of excitement. “The festival will soon fill the village with laughter and song.

Imbolc was a time of celebration when the villagers would gather in the main square to honor the longer daylight and the promise of spring.

During the week of the festival, our Waldorf school organized workshops where we learned how to make the Brigid’s Cross. Our village custom was to weave rushes into a four-armed equilateral cross.

Later, after sunset, bonfires would be lit, and songs of old would echo through the streets, carrying the warmth of hope into every heart.

As we continued our journey towards the edge of the forest, we could feel something magical stirring, its tendrils weaving through the tangled branches and moss-covered stones. We had almost reached the path that led to our grandparents’ house.

Still, even in the last row of trees, legends danced with shadows, and every whisper carried the echo of ancient secrets from before.

Generated with AI ∙ 2024. február 10., Bing

Atlanta’s eyes widened as she noticed a sight unlike any other—a second moon, its silver glow veiled in shimmering mist. She could see two moons in the sky, but only one of them was real.

This phenomenon defied the bounds of ordinary perception. We have heard about it and knew it as the Ghost Moon. But it was the first time one of us witnessed it.

“It’s… it’s impossible,” Atlanta whispered, her voice barely more than a breath of wind. “I must be seeing things.” I could see her trembling momentarily.

But as I followed her gaze upward, I too saw the second moon, its presence undeniable against the velvet canvas of the night sky. I could feel its mysticism as if reality had been woven anew. And yet, it was an impossible event.

Atlanta’s eyes were agape as the two spectral orbs cast a double-mirrored, otherworldly glow upon the woods.

It’s the Ghost Moon,” she said softly, her voice trembling with awe.

We have read the legends of the Ghost Moon, a spirit of times past that emerged from shadows only on the night of Imbolc. It was said to be the spectral guardian of the forest, watching over the land across centuries.

As we came out of the forest, the lights of the village slowly turned on.

We joined our friends and families and gathered in the dim light of the Imbolc fires. Tradition and the hope of new beginnings were shining on everyone’s faces.

But even as we danced and sang beneath the starlit sky, the mystery of the second moon lingered in the air.

Was it only us who had seen the Ghost Moon? And if yes, why were we the chosen ones?

Perhaps it had to do a bit with our witchy ancestry and all the magic we felt whenever the old woods talked.

Back in the shadowed depths of the enchanted forest, the secrets of the veiled moon awaited, ready to reveal themselves to those who dared to seek them.

By steven earnshaw — originally posted to Flickr as Imbolc Festival February 3rd 2007, CC BY 2.0, Wikimedia

Prompt: When you look up in the sky, you think you’re seeing things momentarily. But you’re not. Two moons are above you.

Gabriela is passionate about tech and knowledge management. She is studying while being a mother of three small kids. This requires her to pay for some graduate programs and MOOCs to gain experience. She is writing articles on Medium and Substack to inspire others and fund her journey.

Do you enjoy Gabriela’s articles? Buy her a tea or a Ko-Fi to support her work.

Lodestar Gazette
Lodestar Prompt
Fiction
Moon
Imbolc
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