The Boy And The Moon

He sat.

He sat outside in the starlight, gazing up at the thick clouds that covered most of the flickering lights.

They're so inconsistent, he thought to himself. The stars. He laid back into the blanket of soft grass that whispered like silk, swaying gently in the night air. One moment you think you see one, only to squint a little harder and realize that the sky was playing tricks on your eyes. The stars... He sighed. The stars are beautiful; they shimmer like dim light reflecting off old crystal in a filled ballroom. But the Moon... The Moon is beauty.

He closed his eyes and smiled slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a satisfied curl. He loved spending his summer nights sleeping outside in the fresh air. It gave him a sense of freedom that he couldn't feel anywhere else.

The trees around him rustled suddenly as a stronger gust of wind howled through the sky. They shook for a second or two and then settled again, the noise once more being replaced with the sounds of the night. The boy listened to the chirping symphony of crickets and cicadas, the grass playing a part in the music as well. They droned out the noise of the highway only a stone throw away from where he lay. Not that the highway was quite busy at this time of night, but it comforted the boy.

Ironically, he thought, they are louder than the cars. And yet, they are silence. I hear them, but yet I do not. They are the noise of my thoughts - loud and many, yet private and unregistered. They are beautiful as well; all around me, and yet I don't see them. But they are there... they are there.

The boy opened his eyes, but the rest of his body stayed still. The night was not unpleasant, but he had experienced better.

He shivered.

Another breeze snuck through the air, making the trees sing again, adding harmonies of frail tones to the orchestra of the night, as if to announce the presence of their guest of honor.

A cloud shifted.

The Moon appeared, revealing herself in a dreamy ribbon of silvery light. She gazed down from the sky and found herself looking directly into the eyes of the boy.

"Hello Moon," said the boy, letting his eyes take in her beauty. "You look magnificent tonight."

"Of course I do," replied the Moon. "When do I not?"

"I cannot answer that," said the boy, closing his eyes again.

"I thought not," laughed the Moon, sending out beams of light into the hazy clouds nearby.

"Tell me," said the boy, "Do you ever grow weary?"

"Oh no," said she. "Not I."

"Of course not, of course not," replied the boy with a wave. "Forgive me." He sat up suddenly and leaned his back on a nearby tree, his legs crossed in front of him. "But I must ask, why do you wear a mask?"

The Moon looked curiously at the boy.

"What I mean is, why do you hide your beauty for a month, only revealing yourself completely on only one night out of thirty?"

"I fear you are mistaken," replied the Moon. "Am I not always this wonderful? I wear no mask - I have no need for one."

"I see," sighed the boy, sinking back down the tree trunk to lie down once more.

"I am always shining, boy," said she. "Whether or not you can see my beauty is not my problem." And she focused her attention elsewhere.

"Indeed," the boy said quietly, and looked away. "Indeed it is not. But the Sun never made such excuses..."

"What was that?" snapped the Moon, immediately focusing back on the boy.

"Oh nothing," said the boy, closing his eyes once more. "But you have no reason to be jealous of the Sun. You're much easier on the eyes, and one could stare at you all night and never grow tired."

"That certainly is true," huffed the Moon. "But don't believe for a second that I am jealous of the Sun, oh no!"

"Oh no," repeated the boy to himself. Then, softer than the moon could hear, he whispered, "Though if I was only a reflection of another's glory, I wouldn't feel beautiful, I'd feel cheap. Tainted. No, I would rather make something of myself that others could admire fully every day, and not just on nights when the moon is full and the stars are covered."

"What on earth are you mumbling about?" questioned the Moon. The boy chucked at her unintended pun.

"Do not worry yourself over it," said the boy.

The wind rustled the trees again and the boy shivered. There was a long silence before the boy spoke again.

"Moon, do you ever grow lonely?"

He waited for an answer, but all that replied were the crickets and cicadas. After a long time, the boy questioned again.

"Moon?"

The boy opened his eyes, but the moon had disappeared again behind the veil of clouds that blanketed the sky.