The Boy Who Sits on the Moon

There is a little boy who sits on the tip of the moon and as he dangles his feet the world peeps at him from between his toes. He doesn’t like that very much. He knows that the children of the world are not alone; they are free to chase each other about and laugh the whole while. Although that sound never reaches his ears he still cries sometimes, watering the earth.

The children never used to twirl through his mind. His days left him longing for the next and seemed to end before they began. He had filled them by telling stories of the most wonderful kind. The stars themselves made up his characters. Connected by lines drawn in his mind they outlined towering heroes, beasts unknown to all others, and creatures so fantastic he would jump up and down at the sight of them. All day long they would prance before his eyes outlining the whims of his heart. There were many adventures and even more quests, but most of all he told tales of friendship. Dolphins of all colours would play together in cyclones of water. Two kings, old, jovial and fat, would often entertain each other with tales as he listened in. Never once did he want the stories to end and each night, as sleep gently tugged him into its embrace, he thought of all the stories left to tell and slept with a grin on his face.

One night everything changed. His eyes seemed to open as soon as they shut and as he eased his way into consciousness, he was glad. A short night meant more time for stories. But, when he opened his eyes the stars were nowhere in sight. Before and all around him were fragments of every colour imaginable. Things he had never seen before, trees, mountains, buildings, a beach, and the blue sky, froze him in place as he stood there, mouth gaping. There was water swishing round his waist though he didn’t know its name and in every direction, he saw things he would have called his reflection but that they were each noticeably different. Some had long hair; some had short. A few were even black, almost like the night sky! As far as the boy could tell they only had two things in common, the noises they made and that they all wore swimsuits. Upon looking down the boy’s eyes widened as he saw that he too was wearing neon garb. Not a single intelligible thought was passing through the boy’s mind as he shook his head to clear it both of shock and the raucous.

It seemed to the boy like he should be tense, on edge, but with each way he looked he saw another smile. All the other children were jumping around in the surf and throwing water every which way. They seemed so happy. While their joy lifted his spirits, it left a puzzled look on his face. But, it didn’t take long before it was wiped away by a wave. Coughing and laughing all at the same time he threw the water from whence is came and saw it hit a grinning face. From that moment it was on, water splashed all around. For hours and hours the boy played with his new friend, not that it felt like any time at all.

They played until it was dark as day and his friend said he had to go. Then while they waved their tired goodbyes one was whisked away as the other went home to bed and as one’s eyes began to close the others day began. Now on the moon the boy thought of his night and the excitement of the lake. It cast a shadow on all the stars and the heroes didn’t seem as bright. At first he tried to distract his mind by returning to his old ways, but stories were now hard to tell and seemed far too fake. No tale was good enough for him as he looked longingly at the earth. He couldn’t make himself a friend and that was all he wished to have.

Each day he’d hope for night to come and with it another dream, but never again did he close his eyes and get whisked away. As time wore on the stories returned but now they were all sad, tales of loss and longing inspired by that one glorious night he’d had.