The Moon, Sky, and Sea

Part One: The White Dwarf

It is said the reason the moon is so battered and cratered is because it protects the earth. It keeps the sky safe from meteors and flying debris. The sky does not know this. The sky is lonely. Each time the sky sees the moon it is much too tired from the long day of keeping the empty company of the sun. The sun is painful to the sky. It scorches and burns it. But when the sky sees the moon it blushes. The sky becomes a deep red color but soon rests for the night, exhausted from the pursuit of the sun each day. Longing to stay for as long as possible but always turning to the sweet darkness of sleep. The moon does not realize the sky loves it so much. For the moon loves the sky and only wishes to protect it. The moon is so blinded, not only by the bright sun but by its love for the sky to realize how much the sky longs for the moon. When days are long and hard and too hot for the sky to handle, it gathers all that is left in it and cries a painful cry. But little does the sky know that the sea catches the sky's tears. The sea mimics everything the sky does. Reflecting the beautiful image of the sky right back up to the Heavens. To the sea, the sky is the most beautiful thing there is. But the sea knows the sky's love for the moon is much stronger than the sky's love for the sea. And so every night when the sky was sleeping and the moon was out. The sea would reflect the image of the moon and know how beautiful the moon was. How deserving the moon was to have the sky's love. But every night as the sea would gaze at the moon, the sea would cry. And as the sea would cry, it would catch its tears. For no one loved the sea as much as the sea loved the sky. So no one would catch its tears.

This thought lightly brushed through the narrow halls of my mind as I strolled alongside the bay. Small boats were docked there. The morning would soon come. And the sun would return to torment the sky. Or perhaps the sky would weep tomorrow. I had gotten into this bad habit of taking walks in the early hours of the morning 5 years ago. I had woken up unnaturally around 4 o'clock in the morning. Unable to go back to sleep because of the strange dreams and visions I'd witnessed in my sleep, I decided to pull on my coat, hat, and shoes and leave the comfort of the small apartment to go for a walk. The walks started short and full of thoughts and worries. I mainly thought of my dreams when I took these walks.

It was always the same dream. A stranger standing in the rain. I would approach them to see the tears so obviously falling from their eyes. He would give a small smile and I would embrace this stranger. We would hug until I would pull him away from me. "What is it?" I would ask. "It's gone. It's gone." He would begin to sob again. "What's gone?" The panic would set in. What could cause him to cry so much because it was missing? Or not missing but entirely gone. These thoughts of the dream would slowly start to disappear until the next week when the dream would come again. The walks I would take slowly got longer. The dream still comes weekly. Not this week though. It was Sunday morning at 3. It had been a full week of not having the dream. This made me think of the dream even more this morning. The fact it's gone away after the consistency of 5 years. I crossed the street without looking both ways. No one was out now. They must lie about sleepless cities. It's always quiet here. This town always seems to be asleep. Caught in a lazy dream. No longer walking alongside the sea I entered the small park. I'd never come this way before. In all my years of early morning walks I'd always avoided this park. On the other side of the gate, I would find a graveyard. It was rather spooky walking alongside that graveyard so early in the morning.

The moon shone brightly tonight. Almost as if it was showing off for the sky. But the sky slept. It paid no attention to the moon. I walked through the park keeping my eyes ahead. I could feel a strange coolness in the air. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it. When something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I finally gave in and looked into the graveyard. What I saw caught me quite off guard. I glanced down at my watch to make sure of the time. 3:57, almost 4. The witching hour was coming to a close. She knelt in front of the headstone. A bundle of dead roses lay still in her hands. I was watching her side profile from my spot in the park. She was still in her bedclothes. I watched her lay the flowers down. "I know they aren't much to look at, but they sure smell nice." She muttered. Her soft voice filled the silence of the night. She turned and I could see her glossed over eyes. They were pale, dead. A sheer white film covered her eyes. I took a step back. They startled me. I soon realized she was blind. She could sense my presence. She stared in my direction. She watched just past my eyes. I stared back at her. "I know you're there. I can't see you. You know that, but I know you're there." I didn't say anything. "Why are you out and about so early? Or so late?"