The Star and Moonshine

Date: 1/12/2023

They are selling the big black house where we've made so many horror movies. Strangers have come to look through our rooms and things and to gawk at us. We stand outside in the cold, like watching a house on fire. Reporters are asking our names. We are famous, or infamous. Only the cowboys give their names, but snicker when asked questions about the old man. The three women don't speak. We are walking individually in our Victorian dresses across the vast grey lawns, at dusk under the grey Autumn sky, to the back of the house where we sit together on the steps, not really friends or equals, but this final tragedy uniting us. "This must be very hard on you," I say to the younger one, the Star. She is pretty but not frail. It was her mother's house. She nods gratefully and asks, "Do you still have any moonshine left?" "Why, YES, I DO," I respond with fake merriment. I reach into the pocket of my skirt and pull out a recycled juice bottle with 3/4s of an inch of shiny pink liquid at the bottom, more than enough for the three of us. She reaches for it but I take a small swig first leaving most for her and the tall actress, Mary, standing protectively over her. "It's a good thing you didn't get pregnant after all!" says Mary to the Star and we all laugh. Gallows humour.