Martin the mouse lived in a hollow log in the forest. At night he would come out; sometimes to scrounge for tasty bugs and mushrooms, sometime to visit his friend Tess Turtle, who had a cozy home in a brush pile not far from a small brook. But most often he sat by the brook winding down through Mossy Woods, watching the silver moon cut a path through the starlit sky. He would sit, idly tossing grains of sand into the smooth clear brook with a muffled plunk! and thinking peaceful thoughts. He was quite content in Mossy Woods.
One day a blue jay flew down from Grand Harbour, the busy city a few miles away fron Mossy Woods. The blue jay--whose name happened to be Rufus--kept chattering about all the strange, scary things he had seen there.
"And the humans have big shiny things they use to get from place to place. They make a lot of noise, they smell awful--and one of them almost hit me!" Rufus exclaimed.
The forest animals had gathered to hear Rufus’ adventure, and this caused them to be very worried. A murmer rose up from the crowd.
"But how can they get their food if there aren’t many plants or streams in the city?" a plump raccoon asked.
"They eat at places called ‘restaurants’," replied Rufus.
That night after Rufus left, Martin sat at his old spot by the brook, gazing up at the moon. He remembered his wise old grandfather mouse telling him and his brothers and sisters, that the moon was made of green cheese. How tasty that must be, he thought.
Suddenly an idea struck him. He would get out of Mossy Woods, to travel far away; beyond the pond, beyond even the city--to the moon. After all, it couldn’t be that far away...could it? He sat thinking into the night.
By the time the sun’s rays broke through the cover of trees, Martin had made up his mind. He told his friend Tess Turtle about his plan to reach the moon. She laughed.
"You’re so funny, Martin," she giggled. "How are you going to get to the moon? It won’t be easy."
"Nothing worthwhile is," Martin huffed. He gathered ivy rope, climbing hooks made of cockleburr, and a small pine stick ladder, along with food and water in a maple leaf pouch and an acorn cup. He felt ready for anything.
That evening he gathered his friends to wish them good-bye. They thought he was crazy, and many felt sorry for him, knowing how disappointed he would be when he realized he couldn’t reach the moon.
Martin was very excited. He threw his rope over a small birch branch, waving good-bye with his free hand. He knew the other animals thought he was crazy to try to get to the moon, but he didn’t care. He knew he could do it.
Hand over hand, he climbed the smooth rope, slippery with dew. He could see the moon hanging low over the water, and the sight urged him on. Just a little further...
The branch snapped.
He let out a terrified squeak as he fell. At the last moment, his pouch caught on a twig.
Staring at the ground far below, he felt tears welling in his big black eyes. He was never going to reach the moon now. They were right, it was a crazy idea to begin with. A light flashed in the distance.
Wait a minute, he thought. Lights don’t just go on and off. The light flashed closer. A third time, even closer, and he could make out the source.
A small firefly flitted on sturdy black wings, maintaining an erratic patternas it zipped through the cool evening air. It flew over to where Martin hung from the tree. The two animals stared at each other curiously.
"What are you?" asked Martin, fascinated. He knew it was rude to stare, but he had never seen a creature like this before.
"My name is Flicker. I’m a firefly," the insect replied, equally fascinated. "What are you doing? I’ve never heard of a mouse climbing trees before."
Martin blushed. "I was trying to reach the moon, but I got stuck." He wiggled in midair awkwardly.
"Oh," said the firefly. "Want me to help you down?"
"Well, sure, if you can, but I’m kinda heavy," Martin replied doubtfully.
"No problem," said Flicker, and disappeared suddenly.
Martin could feel his tail start to cramp up. He waited for so long, he thought the firefly would never return.
But Flicker did return, with dozens more fireflies following him. The hum of their wings filled the mouse’s ears. They flew closer, hovering above him, and grasped Martin’s furry grey body with their skinny legs, gently pulling him off of the branch.
The glowing insects lifted him into the air, beating their wings fast to keep his body aloft. Flying that high, Martin felt as though he could almost touch the moon...almost. He sighed.
"What’s wrong?" asked Flicker, who happened to have hold of the back of his neck.
"Now I know I’ll never reach the moon," the mouse replied wistfully. "It’s just too hard, especially for a mouse." He sighed again. "I don’t know why I even bothered."
"Not reach the moon?" exclaimed Flicker. "But you have." And Martin looked down.
He saw, in the distance and growing ever closer, a round glowing ball. Swallowing hard, he could hardly believe his eyes. The moon was lying among a pile of leaves, giving an unearthly look to the familiar woods. He looked up in the sky. The moon was nowhere to be found.
The fireflies set him carefully on the ground, and he scampered over to the beautiful ball. He glanced around quickly, then took a few steps towards it, and patted it on its smooth surface. It was soft and light, and moved under his touch. He sniffed it cautiously, then nibbled on the surface. His heart sank.
It was not made of green cheese, or anything else he could eat. Still, it was pretty. He kicked it with his paw, and it rolled a few inches. He smiled in satisfaction at the power he had; he had moved the moon!
He decided to go tell his friends. Then they would know he had finally achieved the impossible. I did it, he thought happily. I reached the moon. He then realized he didn’t need them to know. He knew he had done it, and that was what counted. He gave the glowing ball a last look over his shoulder, and scampered off towards home.
That evening he went over to Tess’s brushpile, carrying in his paw a small sliver of the moon he had chewed a few hours before. She listened to his story with wide eyes--or as wide as a turtle’s eyes can be--and looked at his proof. Soon the other animals heard of the incredible feat he had performed, and looked at him with new respect. Imagine--a mouse reaching the moon!
The next morning, a girl wandered over to where she had left her glow-in-the-dark ball. She looked at it; had it moved in the night? She looked around quickly, then shrugged, picked up the ball, and ran towards her house in the woods.
Martin's Moon co. Freya Lorelei 2000