Blue, blue sky. Lighter shades of blue melted into darker ones at the edge of the world. Puffs of pure white clouds waltzing in the sky, following the Sun off the cliff.  Hung high in the sky, Moon was peering above the earth. She watched as it all crumbled down beneath her. Every tree collapsing with nobody to hear it fall. 

At night the Moon shined, the light reflecting off of her and glimmering amongst the surrounding stars. She stood in the heavens, admired by humans below.

A picnic blanket would be laid out under the cover of night and two humans would lay down. They would watch the sky, and point at the Moon and her band of stars. Sometimes they would grin up at nothing in particular and absorb the Moon’s hazy glow. She felt admired in those moments. 

But new Moons had to arrive at some point. Shadows would fall onto her and the night, suddenly black. She expected uproar. She anticipated the humans’ rage at the loss of her and the gift of her glow. How dare the Sun keep her from the people who loved her. 

Instead, there was peace. Car headlights mimicked the stars to combat the darkness, but there was no  true attempt to retrieve  her. Humans went on in her absence. 

In that moment she realized she was not the cherished one. Humans did not worship her craters or her hazy light. No. Their patron was the Sun. The fiery being that the Moon was far removed from, balancing each other– lightyears apart. She would never have her day in the Sun, unlike the humans.

 Still, she yearned to be loved. When humans laid under her light, they called it ‘stargazing’– unable to see the power of her presence. Their gaze was fixated on the mini-Suns. 

Once a month she disappeared, and no one paid any mind. Yet she still shined just as brightly when it was her duty to do so. And despite all efforts against her, she waited for her moment to bask in the light.

Even now, she never stops shining. Just in case the light finally chooses her.

When her golden light shined, the humans below worshiped. Farms relied on her brightness to provide them with life. Bronzing skin, heating pavements, and reigniting creativity. She was life. 

Dark blue skies were the Sun’s menace. They taunted her with their shadows and gloom. All she wanted was light, light, light, but with every night she was pushed back down under–

side of the earth; it felt like drowning. She deserved more than this. Humans loved her, and she thought they would appreciate her just as much if she gleamed at all hours of the day. On special places on earth, she reigned for twenty hours or more. But not more than once a year. A shame. The Moon, however, stole this from her. 

Night was inevitable, the balance of the universe. The Sun would be pushed into nothing and forced to shine part of herself on a Moon that never appreciated it. She was used, again and again.

Night was never as beautiful as day, either. No, night was the time that humans committed acts of cruelty: theft, murder, loneliness. Sun had heard stories from the stars. Whispers of killing and stealing that echoed throughout the heavens. The Moon, the stars told her, would sit and watch it all happen, worried about nothing but her shine.

Of course, the Sun witnessed just as much.

But she also gazed down at children playing in the streets, or weddings held at churches with tearful mothers, or lovers laying on blankets, lazily staring at books they weren’t reading, itchy in the grass. Flowers turned their heads toward her just to absorb her light. Humans on beaches would lay out on towels and try to steal a fragment of her, capturing her on the surface of their skin, if only momentarily.. This bothered her. All the humans wanted to do was take pieces of her, to wear her as an adornment. A testament to their leisure.

But she knew: her light shone from within. 

They even tried to mimic her with their flashlights and lamps and candles. It all seemed slightly rude.

She couldn’t bring herself to care. Especially when humans loved her so. When the clouds shielded her rays of light, the humans would sit inside and wait for her. Sitting at their doorsteps, hoping she would arrive soon.

And soon, she would come back. No matter how tedious the task– to simply hang for much too long– she did it for them, her faithful audience. She would shut herself up and imagine experiencing the joy that the humans had in those moments. It didn’t usually work, but she still tried just the same. 

Despite the anger that both the Sun and Moon had conjured against one another, one could describe their relationship as amicable coworkers. Each Sunset included a mostly peaceful transition of power: they did this routinely for centuries. The Sun would duck her head under the line as the Moon rose above– until the Sun maintained eye contact. The Moon had had enough. 

It was both of their faults that all came crashing down.

On that day on Earth, the largest earthquake recorded for centuries had hit. Homes were collapsing and people were crying in the streets. Even the Sun winced at the gravity of it all. She was peering down at the people below, wishing she could be of more use just when she started to sink.

The Moon was coming too early. She had heard the news of the Earthquake from the stars and was begging to take a look, climbing up much too early. This made the Sun furious– her gaze piercing darts into the Moon– but she fell down anyway. If only to be civil.

As she soared above to her favorite place– showering the masses from her peak–, the Moon noticed emotional devastation. What had she done? With one glance at the humans below her, she came to understand the collapse of their worlds– their emotional states reflected their physical reality. Humans were now falling asleep on the rubble of their once-loved homes. The Sun’s gaze was nothing but a warning. The night sky was so vast, but her place felt so small.

A lunar eclipse is what the humans deemed it. When the Sun peeked a little too much and let her light fall completely on the Moon. White light on the Moon had fallen to golden. 

When the Moon saw this, she gasped. Her prayers of turning into the Sun had been answered. She could finally be adored the way her counterpart was. Even the humans turned to look at her, shock and wonder etched on their faces. 

This newfound intoxication  made the Moon. For a few minutes, she beamed and glowed with such pride that the Earthquake became a second priority. Her wishes had been granted. 

But then it was over. The Sun fell back to her usual place and the Moon was white again. Humans put away their cameras and turned their attention back to the Earth. Back to their homes. Back to the remains of what they once loved. The Moon was herself again.

Yet she didn’t feel sad. Instead, pride had taken over her being. She had the power to be the Sun, if she only tried her hardest. 

From the other side of the Earth, the Sun watched. She wondered if telling the Moon what had really happened was a good idea. The stars whispered in her ear: No, it would not. So, she gazed on at the Moon, back to her regular self, shining with happiness. 

For the first time, the Sun felt like she was experiencing joy, too.