'A View of the Moon' wins adult short-story award
"A View of the Moon" is the winning entry in the adult short-story division of our annual Holiday Fiction Contest, which drew more than 300 entrants this year.
Author Kaiulani E.S. Kidani describes herself as "an aspiring writer" (she's a lawyer by day). This is the first contest she has entered. The judges liked the story's portrayal of seemingly unconnected events, just the way real life is.
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By Kaiulani E.S. Kidani
Special to The Advertiser
Illustration by Martha P. Hernandez • The Honolulu Advertiser
At 8:37 p.m. on Christmas, the family that lived in Unit 210 had just finished dinner and was looking forward to Grandma's freshly baked apple pie. But it was 37 minutes past the baby's bedtime, and the baby did not want to go to bed. He cried and cried, more loudly than usual, and the family simply could not enjoy Grandma's pie until they got him to stop.
In the short story 'A View of the Moon' by Kaiulani E.S. Kidani, simple events bring a touch of joy to those in need.
"What could it be?" everyone wondered.
"He might need changing," the mother said, and she tried changing his diaper. But that wasn't it, because the baby kept crying.
"Maybe he's still hungry," the father said, and he tried giving him a bottle. But that wasn't it, because the baby kept crying.
"I know. He wants to be carried by his grandma," the grandmother said, and she gently bounced him around the living room. But that wasn't it, because the baby kept crying.
"He wants to play with my new fire truck!" the brother said, and he whizzed his fire truck across the room with the siren blaring and the lights flashing. But that definitely wasn't it, because the baby cried even harder.
Meanwhile, Abigail sat at the dining room table drawing a picture with the new crayons she got for Christmas. As she reached for another color, she noticed her grandfather, who was also at the table, leaning far over in his wheelchair to gaze out the window.
"What's the matter with Papa?" she asked. "Is it the moon you see? It is very bright tonight, isn't it? Here, let's give you a front-row seat." And with that she gently pushed her grandfather to the window and perfectly angled his chair so that he could get the best view. Then she opened the window a little to let the moonlight in.
As soon as Abigail wheeled her grandfather away from the table, the cat, who had been cleaning up the leftovers on Grandpa's plate while sitting on Grandpa's lap, suddenly jumped up and knocked over a bowl of cherries. The clanging of the bowl and the sound of the baby's crying out of the open window made the busybody who lived in Unit 101 wonder what all the commotion was upstairs. "Aha! I will take them a pie to find out," she said.
"Ooh, pumpkin pie!" Abigail exclaimed as she let the busybody in. In one quick motion, they busybody dropped the pie in Abigail's arms and rushed across the room to offer suggestions to the family on quieting crying babies. In her haste, she kicked a cherry clear across the room, which rolled out the door and across the hallway to the door of the young couple who had just moved into Unit 202.
A few minutes later, the man from Unit 202 opened the door to get the paper he had forgotten to read that morning and noticed the cherry sitting beside it. "Honey, someone left us a cherry for Christmas."
"That's odd," the woman giggled. "It kinda looks like a Christmas light. Hey, we should turn those on since we only have three more hours or so left of Christmas."
"Mm, OK," the man replied and he plugged in the lights they had strung around the balcony.
Just then, the grumpy man from Unit 102 was returning from a walk with his Saint Bernard who had always had a rather strong disliking for bright lights. When the dog saw the balcony on Unit 202 light up, he began barking at the top of his lungs.
"Every year someone's gotta put up those darned lights," the man said. "Hush!" he scolded the dog, "or you're gonna wake up the whole neighborhood."
But it was too late. The dog's barking had awakened the widow who lived in Unit 301, who had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch after a quiet dinner and some tea. "Oh my," she said, listening to the barking outside. "It sounds like that big dog from Unit 102."
When she got up from the couch to take a look outside, she noticed the clock on the wall that showed a quarter till 9 — almost an hour past the time she played her piano every night. "How could I have slept so long? Perhaps it's too late to play tonight." But then she heard the sounds of the baby crying downstairs and said, "Well, it seems like everyone is still awake, so maybe they won't mind if I play a little later tonight."
Then she sat down at her piano and began to play "Clair de Lune." The music filled the night air and drifted down to Unit 201. By the third measure, the baby stopped crying, almost as if by magic.
"Well, what do you know ..." the mother in Unit 201 whispered. "All he wanted was 'Clair de Lune.' "
The widow played and played, a little more sadly, yet somehow more beautifully than usual. Everyone in Unit 201, even the busybody from Unit 101, sat quietly, soaking up the music. When the final note was played, the mother wiped her eyes and said, "We should really have her down for dessert. After all, we have all this pie."
Soon after, Abigail knocked on the door to Unit 301 to invite the woman down for dessert. "Excuse me, but have you had dessert? Because we have lots of pie downstairs."
"Why, how kind!" the woman said. "And funny you should ask because this was going to be the first Christmas ever where I've skipped dessert."
At 9:17 p.m., the baby was sleeping soundly, Abigail's grandfather was still admiring the moon and as "Clair de Lune" played in everyone's heads, the woman from Unit 301 was enjoying dessert with the family in Unit 201.
Meanwhile, Abigail had finally finished her drawing — a picture of a moon smiling in the night sky. "Merry Christmas, Papa," she whispered as she placed the picture on his lap. Then, with a big yawn, she quietly walked down the hall and went to bed.
