as the moon falls | seamoon

as the moon falls

The very first thing in creation was the sea, and she took on the form of a goddess who was doomed to never leave her domain.

What use is power if you are not free? the sea wondered.

So she asked the sky, perhaps somewhat selfishly, for a companion who was bound in shackles like she was rooted to the earth, and out of pity for this longing, the sky obeyed.

She was called the moon.

The sea decided, right then and there, that she was lovely.

Oh! To be looking down on all creation! To be light, to be hope, to be soaring! To not be aware of this beauty herself! Was there such a being, however immortal, capable of such a thing?

Looking at the moon, the sea decided, right then and there, that she wanted to touch her. Just once, to see if that luminescent, everlasting light would burn the tips off of her fingers, like she believed it would. It wasn't the pain the sea was after. She wanted to feel something, anything. A brief feeling of that dizzying rush that would temporarily distract her from her chains.

Those who saw the first crest of the ocean that night thought they could just make out the shape of a hand in the waves.

It was through this purpose that she kept on living. In day she waited; at night she yearned.

One evening she came close to touching the moon.

"Hello," the sea said, and there glowed the outline of a sleeping, ethereal woman in robes of flowing violet and royal blue. And the sea had to catch her breath, because the moon wasn't an inanimate sphere anymore. She was alive.

Her eyelids flickered open, and her lips quirked into the briefest trace of a smile.

"Hello," she replied. "Who are you?"

The sea could not speak in her wide-eyed awe, but the moon's soft gaze did not waver.

"You look like an angel," she murmured. She was still half-asleep, the sea realized. "No... a fairy. Strange... this is the first time I have seen someone like you appear in my dreams..."

She yawned widely. The faint crease between her eyes disappeared as she relaxed. "Yes, that must be it... you are a fairy. For nothing on earth is of your allure..."

The moon did not speak no more, and the fairy, as she had been called, felt a strong yank on her ankle. She tried to cry out, to protest, but it was over in an instant. The chain tightened, and she felt herself being pulled back down to her mortal prison.

☽

It was always like this. Sometimes passer-by wandered the beaches, and looked up on the restless, struggling sea in wonder. And what a sight it was. They marveled at this phenomenon, and would do so for years.

On a particularly windy night, where the sea grew wild with desperation, a little girl witnessed this. She said, quite seriously, it was a woman who was trying to break free from her shackles.

Though years had passed, the sea fairy, as she had decided to call herself, had not aged. It was a bitter curse disguised as a blessing, for who would want to live forever chained? Maybe it was her punishment for asking the sky for such a companion; maybe her ignorance of the value of life had saved her from death in the most merciless way possible.

For the first time, she had a wish that she so desperately wanted to be fulfilled. One that meant something in the face of it all.