As I look up, I can see them darting through the sky like mice, running from a cat. Little specks of light illuminating the fingernail-moon overhead. Leaning against the window frame, my upper body leans out of the window, letting the fresh breeze pulse against my skin. The world is dark. The dark sky swirls with life. I can feel it dance in the black air, moving graciously in a never-ending dance across Hayfield. I can almost see Artemis, the goddess of the moon and the hunt, dancing and twirling with Morpheus, the god of dreams. I close my eyes for a moment, picturing Artemis in a long, pale gown, with only the faintest hint of blue. Her long hair is so blond, it looks white, working in unison with the gleaming stars overhead. When I open my eyes, I can almost see her down on the paved road, her simple gown twisting around her. A faint glow surrounds Artemis, her slim body humming with power and strength. Morpheus is a tall man. I can see the muscles in his broad shoulders move in unison with Artemis. I smile. My fingers run against the white windowsill, but as I glance up again, Morpheus has gone. Artemis is alone in the street, dancing by herself. A crown of stars has twisted into her hair. The goddess doesn't seem to notice her dance partner has left, moving along the quiet street by herself. Her feet glide softly against the paved road in intricate footsteps. Her delicate body bends as one with the wind as it covers her in its white coat. She twirls gracefully, pale dress following, but as I look again, she has gone. The street is empty. I will for the goddess of the moon to return, but the square stones paved into the road remain empty. Artemis is no longer there. My eyes linger on where I had seen her last, but she doesn't materialize back. A wave of disappointment fills my chest, but I knew it would happen. It has every night. I was always told to 'have a wild imagination'. I know it can't be anything else. There never were Greek gods and goddesses. They were all myths. I have known this all my life, but each time I see her, a wave of reality washes over me. It all seemed so real. I have summoned the goddess of the moon more than once now. I often picture her in front of me, but she only ever appears at night, never so close I can touch her. I give one last glance to the empty road before retreating from the window. I sit dejectedly on the torn-up mattress. The bedsprings squeak against my weight. A mirror against the far wall catches my attention. I swallow hard. I try to avoid it as often as I can, but tonight, I can't help but wander over to the immovable images within its frame. A young woman stares back at me. Not much older than sixteen. I don't avoid my reflection because of a terrible appearance, or a hideous face. I avoid it for fear. With all my being, I desire for Artemis to really dance in Hayfield's streets, but crossing the mirror, doubt invades like an ink cloud, blurring all memories of her from my mind. It's fake. It's all fake, it hisses. The back mist invades my thoughts. It wraps its tentacles around memories of Artemis. Because, as I look into the mirror, I see the same face. The same face as I see every time I find Artemis. Everything but the eyes. Artemis has dark, electric blue eyes, specked with paler blues. My eyes are nothing like; only a hazel. I am not Artemis, I continually remind myself, It's all just your imagination. Greek Mythology is fake. I sigh. 

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Άρτεμις, Άρτεμις, σας καλώ," I whisper, "Artemis, Artemis, I call on you."

I don't know what I have said until the words have left my mouth. It's almost as if something programmed me to say it. A spot just below my collarbone begins the burn. I glance into the mirror. My necklace, a small silver moon, shimmers with light.

"Άρτεμις, θεά του φεγγαριού, ο κόσμος θα λυγίσει στη θέλησή σας," a misty voice says, it's voice enveloping me, "Artemis, goddess of the moon, the world shall bend to your will."

I stutter for words when I look back into the mirror. Hazel eyes have disappeared. Replaced with blue ones. Electric blue.

A wild imagination...?