This page in my art journal was inspired by my novel Where the Moths Dance.
The full moon bathes Gum Tree Hill Cemetery in a violet glow, casting silvery shadows across the stone angels. The wind whispers through the towering gum trees that encircle the graveyard, offering protection to all they encompass. Midnight Max, the cemetery cat, prowls stealthily between the graves, keeping a close vigil over his domain, while a solitary crow watches silently from its perch atop a gravestone. Overhead, attracted to the moonglow, moths perform a clumsy dance through the night.
While the dead rest, the graveyard is alive.
Just as I had been staring at Elliott’s picture and wondering what he would have looked like now, a year on, if he had had the chance to live, Sam had appeared beside me. He crouched down in front of the tree and pulled out a smaller photo that had been tucked into the corner of the frame. It was a picture of the moon surrounded in swirls of bluish-gray cloud against a violet-tinged sky.
“Elliott was passionate about everything to do with space,” Sam said, straightening. He stared down at the picture in his hand. “He was always going on about how black holes were portals into parallel universes. He said that one day he was going to find out what was through the other side of the holes.”
From Where the Moths Dance