Starry Sea

Starry Sea

       The waters were calm one night, much to the pleasure of the Moon; for that night, her pale reflection slit open the black sea--that night she could admire herself in all her glory. 

    Perhaps it was her fortune, perhaps it was magic. Because the Sea was never calm for long--no, his temper had long since gained him infamy. He who wore down miles of rock, who levelled the earth, who drowned fleets of men at a whim! But that evening, he settled down--for what was perhaps the first time in centuries. And not even the largest fish in the sea dared to breathe--to stir the pot and risk a storm. Not a creature was in sight, except for the tiny boat and its master drifting aimlessly across the silky waves. 

    Hidden by curtains of dark, a fisherman was slumped aboard, pining and hoping for something more. He already had more than what millions of other earthlings could claim, but he did not realize it. He had life, something the Sea was desperate to take. And he was lucky. If it had been an ordinary night, the Sea would have concocted a ferocious current--for he was not pleased with mankind's doings (at least, that was the reason he gave. Though between you and I, I think he was haunted by the loneliness that accompanies a never-ending life. But the Sea's story is not mine to share, at least not in this very moment. And so, back to the fisherman!)

            "Show me a sign," the fisherman would often whisper to the night--to the Moon, who could only watch him, forlorn. "Show me that I was meant to be." 

    You are, she would say back, insistently. But her soft voice could never reach his ears. 

    And now, his eyes were drooping closed. 

    Tonight! The moon thought. Tonight, as the Sea cannot interfere, I will show you. 

    Working fast, she gathered her friends, the stars and the winds, and asked them for a favor. 

    Help me show him.

    And for a brief moment that no one saw--as half the world was still dreaming--pinpricks of light danced across the waters. There were two skies, now, lacing the dead of night. And when the fisherman finally opened his eyes (a particularly insistent breeze had fluttered by), the world was twice as beautiful as usual.