The New Moon (A Story)

A long time ago, when the Earth was still young, the night was always very dark.

The sky weaver looked out at the world around her and, while it was beautiful, stars glimmering against a quiet sea, she longed for something bright.  One evening, as she was gazing out across the black night, she looked to the sky and watched as a streak of light arced across the sky and landed on a nearby cloud.  It was small and weak, flickering only dimly.  The sky weaver did not want it to go out.

She went to the stars and asked them if they would help her.

The stars, wise and generous, told her to build a machine that would collect starlight during the day.  She could use this and give it to her child. 

The sky weaver built the machine.  It had a giant funnel which pulled in light from the stars and a crank that she turned to grind the starlight into porridge.  The porridge brought the new light back to life.  The little light twirled in a circle and beamed.  The sky weaver called her Moon.

The sky weaver did not feed the Moon too much porridge.  She was careful so that the stars could replenish their light.  Because of this, the moon changed size, growing for two weeks and then becoming smaller until she was a slender crescent.  She never went completely dark.

The moon grew healthy and beautiful.  She was playful, loved to dance, pirouetting into the sky every night, singing to the stars, who sparkled behind her as she twirled.  The sky weaver took great joy in watching her daughter glow. 

All of the world loved her, but none more than the sea.  He sang her poetry.  As she danced, he danced with her, reaching himself in great waves toward her bright body, crashing back into himself in happy exhales.  The fish, who had never known such a wonderful ride, laughed, and the night was filled with joy. 

The moon kept dancing, leaning playfully in various shapes, against the twinkling of the stars.

***

One evening, when she happened to be full, the sea said to her, "Oh Moon, if only you were wearing a long dress!   Then I might splash against that fabric and be a little closer to you!"  With that, he let out a deep laugh, which sent the fish giggling with pleasure at his giant waves.

But the young moon took the comment seriously.  At the end of the night, as day broke, she returned to her mother the sky weaver with a request.

"Mother, will you make me a dress?  One that is long and beautiful and will reach down to the sea so that he can be closer to me?"

The sky weaver smiled and shook her head.

"But why?!" yelled the moon.  She gave an angry spin. 

The sky weaver looked at her daughter, "How could I make a dress for something that changes as often as you do?"

The moon stopped spinning and thought about that.  She could not argue.  It was true, she was always changing shape.

But after finishing her porridge that morning, she had an idea.  When her mother went to rest, the moon sneaked over to the machine and turned the crank, pulling in a little more starlight.  She ate this and went to sleep.

The next night, when it was time for her to go into the sky and glow, the moon had not become any smaller.  As usual the sea called up to her, speaking lines of poetry and crashing his waves, but she did not hear the poetry, and did not dance the way she had before. 

"Be still, Sea," she said.  "I want to see my body in your reflection.  I must be as bright as I was last night."

She was too focused on remaining the same, glowing just as she had the night before.  She did not even look at the twinkling stars behind her.

The following evening it was the same.  The moon went to the machine while her mother rested and took extra starlight so that she would remain the same shape.  When she went into the night sky to glow, she told the sea to stay flat so that she could make sure she was the same shape.  She did not look at the stars, and did not dance.  She only glowed in one spot, shining proudly at her reflection.

Several nights passed.  All the same way. 

The sea was too sad to sing poetry to the moon, knowing she would not hear him.  He went back to sleep.  The fish stopped laughing.  The moon did not notice.  She did not dance or look to the stars.  She gazed with satisfaction at her round form.  Even though she was glowing brightly, the night had become quiet and melancholy.

***

Two weeks went by.  The moon entered the sky as usual, moving stiffly, focusing all her attention on displaying the unchanging shape.  She hung there gazing at herself.  Out of nowhere a streak of light flashed through her reflection.   She looked up from the quiet water to see the last star, shooting across the sky.  But the moon did not know this - she was still young and had never seen a falling star.  She became excited for a moment, twirling herself for the first time in a long while.  She looked to the sea to ask him if he had seen it, but he was asleep.  She called to the fish, hoping they would laugh with her about the strange sight, but there was no sound coming from the still water.  She looked around her for the stars, to ask them what it was, but there was not one left twinkling in the sky.

The moon realized what she had done.  There was nothing left in the world that would comfort her now.  She spun around, horrified, searching desperately for some sign of light, but she was the only thing left glowing in the sky.  She closed her eyes and began to sob.  Her sadness penetrated every part of her.  She let out a deep wail and cried and cried and cried.

She wept through the day and did not stop for many nights.  She cried until she was empty. 

Finally, she opened her eyes.  Her vision was blurry at first.  Her tears had been vast.  Tiny sparkles fell from the corners of her eyes.  She blinked and blinked again.  Was it real?  Could it be real?  The sky was now brighter than she had ever seen it, alive with familiar twinkles.  She had cried the stars back into the sky. 

She sang and hollered.  Spun around and twirled.  She danced as she had never danced before.

It was a long time before she realized, she had become invisible.  When she noticed this, however, she was not sad.  Nothing could break the joy and gratitude she felt for seeing the stars return to the sky.  

***

At the end of the evening, she came back to her mother.

The sky weaver looked at her daughter.  "Would you like some porridge?" she asked.

The moon felt sick for a moment and told her mother she would rather be invisible then ever eat another drop of starlight again.  The sky weaver nodded and they both went to rest.

The next night, as the moon rushed out into the sky to dance with the stars, she was not totally dark.  Her body glowed with a thin filament of light.  The sea stirred. 

She grew brighter as the nights passed, growing as she had before when she ate the  starlight porridge.  Only now the light came from within.  It was richer light and quieter.  She glowed now with the awareness of her own darkness.

She became as big and round as she ever had, then once again shrank down delicately.  Now, though, once a month, the moon went completely dark.   She remembered what she almost lost.  She sat gratefully admiring from her dark perch, the brilliant stars around her.

It was on these nights that she danced the most beautifully.  The sea still sang to her even though she was invisible.  The fish filled the evening with laughter.