There is nothing more thrilling than running against the moon, our glowing Mother. And like any woman, she waxes and wanes in her affection of us, her most humble children and avid followers. When she is gone adrift from us, we are merely shells of our true beings. But when her joy falls upon this land in silvery rays, when she is pregnant in the inky black sky, that is when we pay her homage in blood . 1
That is when we are truly loved. 2
That is when we are truly alive.
Author notes
Yeah I don't know~ been playing this game lately where I'm a vamp hating werewolf and this came to me-- not a huge fan of the genre but I think I might make it work. Just thought I would post it since I haven't been really writing lately.
Lemme Have It
Comments
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The imagery here is great - I love the idea of being more or less alive in relation to the moon's phases.
I don't think you need to use "love" twice in the last sentence of paragraph 1 - it feels a little repetitive. I think you can find a way to craft it better. 
Short, but excellently penned. I hope you decide to write more from this - it's obvious that you've gained a certain stride in writing about these creatures of the night, even from so few words. Good luck! 
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Oh yeah! See, I knew something was bothering. Reworded it alittle, and switched it around so the flow was better! Thanks honey!
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Check the hair on your palms!
"Running against the moon." Wonderful image! The Werewolf as "child" of the moon is also a formidable image...but one which came to me only in conjunction with the author notes. I think it might have been, more clearly stated in your snippet. Also...her "loveS"...I think might be better as her LOVE.
OooWwwwww!
GA
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Thanks Ga! And you're right~ perhaps when I write more the message will be more clear! Thanks for the insight and the advice.
As always,
L~
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