Midnight Guardian

I can’t get rid of that pest. Face down, its light cuts through the room and pierces my eyes. Face up, it illuminates my ceiling to imitate the sun. But no matter where it’s facing, its buzz shakes me awake before I can fully close my eyes. Then I have to get up and drift over to see what triggered it before silencing it again. That damned screech keeps me too hot to rest and leaves me in the morning with frozen saliva hanging from my chin. I have to let it tire out about 87 percent every night before I can finally put it down, and then the next day it all repeats like the Earth’s rotation. And I can’t get rid of it. It’s too convenient to keep anywhere other than in my room.

“Bzzzzzt!”

There it was again. I stood up and drifted over to it for the umpteenth time. Its radiance corroded my pupils and almost bound my eyelids shut. One new message, that’s what triggered it. Who sends a message when the world is supposed to be asleep? I set it down again, but I didn’t go to bed. I just stood there, ready for the next buzz. Sure enough, it screeched again, but I didn’t even care to read it. I’m tired of reading smoke.

I needed to clear out my room of this nuisance’s fumes. I drifted again, to the window this time, and let the pollutants out into the dozing night. The moonlight absorbed them so I could finally see clearly. I sat on the windowsill outside and closed the cage door behind me, leaving me alone with the moon. We stared at each other long enough for her to disappear behind the clouds and come back to caress me. She’s not like her father; he either yells until my bed ignites or abandons me for days at a time when I really need him. If only I could stay here forever with her stroking my singed cheek, lighting my pale face, loving my tired soul. The world was asleep, and I would become its king.

“Hoo… hoo…”

Never mind.

His majesty stood perched on his throne across the yard from me, staring at me as if wondering how anyone could say something so blasphemous. He shifted his eyes past me, peering into my room. I didn’t need to look back to know what was going on in there. No matter how much it screams, I’m not picking it up again. I looked back up towards the sky, only to find that the moon had gone behind a cloud yet again. His majesty and I were alone.

“Have you felt it before, too?” I asked him, not receiving a reply. He’s not obligated to answer to inferiors. I already knew what the answer was, anyways. He flew under her protection every night, and only slept when she was gone. That’s why he was able to become king. And here he was, staring at his featherless, flightless, shameful subject, a being so frail that it can be conquered by a tiny bug a twelfth of its own size.

His majesty turned his head skyward and spoke to the Midnight Guardian in a language only a king could understand. I looked to the sky as well, hoping to see her smile at me too, but only a king could see and talk to her. When they finished, he flew over to me without any warning. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the talons that dispose of imperfection, but I felt nothing besides a gust of wind.

A warm coat of feathers wrapped around my shoulders to shield me from the light inside. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel that cicada finally going dormant now that it had no one left to torture. His majesty didn’t care what the rules say he isn’t obligated to do. He’ll do it anyways, and that’s why he’s the king. There are so many phony kings and queens during the day that the moon only coronates those who see her at night. The day is full of translucent smoke for imposters to hide behind. You can’t tell a smile from a smirk.

But at night, the Midnight Guardian clears the smog, and you can finally trust your own eyes. I looked up at the sky one last time to see her cover me in a luminous blanket with a sincere smile. His majesty, meanwhile, bade me farewell and left behind a feather from his cape. When I wake up, I’ll find a crown on my head.