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The Sun and the Moon

A snake's tale.

By Rachael MacDonaldPublished about a year ago 6 min read
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The Sun and the Moon
Photo by Matt Nelson on Unsplash

“Well, It finally happened. I finally lost my mind.”

Camille shook her head as if she could shake the psychosis right out. She imagined loose keys jangling around a glass bowl, and if she could only tip her head the perfect way, the delusion key would slip out of her ear in sweet release.

“Lossst,” the thin green garter snake hissed from beneath the rose bushes, “Where did it go?”

Camille glanced behind her and watched her mother plant another sunflower along the garden wall. She was far enough away that Camille couldn’t be sure if she was the only one who could hear the snake or if her mother could too had she been but a few feet closer.

The sun shone down on their small garden in all its’ golden glory. With its hanging wisteria, cheerful flower beds, bubbling water fountains and creeping vines that ran up the south side of their brick home, it gave Camille’s family a paradise secretly tucked within the bustle of the big city.

It was the best garden in the whole neighborhood and Camille’s mother had an award to prove it. You are looking at 2016’s Communities in Bloom Miniature Garden of the year. The plaque hung proudly from the rod iron gate sandwiched between their house and their next-door neighbor Mrs. Hutton’s. By opening the unlocked gate, a shaded stone path flanked by hedges would lead all sorts of folks into their tiny oasis.

Camille’s twelve-year-old fingers reached out toward the slithering snake.

“And jussst what do you think you are doing, misss”, the snake recoiled back, staring its’ beady eyes at Camille.

She snatched her hand back quickly. “I’m sorry Mr. Snake,” Camille whispered. “I just wanted to make sure you were real.”

“I most cccertianly am.” He hitched his body higher off the ground indignantly.

“It’s just, I am sorry, I just have never met a talking animal before,” Camille continued.

“We all talk child….if we want. It'sss whether you lot lisssten.” The snakes’ tongue flicked back and forth tasting the warm summer air.

“I’ll listen, Mr. Snake.” Camille gathered her dress and sat down on the cool slate paving stone. Her dress was covered in dirty handprints and the hem was damp from the fountain she walked through earlier. Abandoned behind her were several trays of marigolds, her floral trowel with matching gloves and a small green watering can. Camille’s mother had finished with the sunflowers and had moved on to adding three new hydrangea bushes along the eastern gate.

“And what isss it you would like to hear, child? A sssstory perhapsss?” Camille loved the way the snake spoke, the words tickling her ears in a sweet melody.

“Oh, that would be lovely. Would you?” Camille spoke in childlike wonder. Gone was the twelve year old skeptic that ceased believing in magical things. In her place sat a much younger Camille. Her soul transformed back to seven years old, when fairies were real, the Easter bunny hid all your eggs, and Santa had nine magnificent reindeer.

The snake looked up into the clouds as he spoke.

“A long time ago, the moon fell in love with the sssun.”

The snake paused as if to let the words sink into the girl’s skin. Camille sat transfixed on the lithe green storyteller. This pleased the snake. Patience was usually a humans’ least observed quality. The snake continued on.

“Now, the moon was a very shy moon and each night, it would follow the sunsss’ fiery light, chasing the warmth it left in itsss wake. It was very thin, like me. Jussst a sssliver of a thing, but it was very full. Unfortunately for the moon, the thingsss it was full of were fear and doubt.

Ssso when each day ended, the moon continued to follow the sssun ssilently. It did not know how to tell the sssun of itsss beauty. Doubt whissspered itsss little thoughts. How could the sssun love sssomething ssso cold and little? It was ssso much bigger and better. A Queen among the ssstars.

Again, the snake paused and looked at the rapt child.

“But what the moon did not know was the sssun already loved the moon. The great hot ball of gasss did not think itssself the leader in their ritual rotation. Surely, it followed the moon, basssking in the cool wind each dawn as one would enjoy a sssplash of cold water on a hot sssumer day. But it too was shy.

The daysss and nightsss passsed and the two did not ssspeak. But ssslowly, the moon began to grow. Itsss' body warmed by the sssunsss ethereal glow. Courage took the placcce of fear; Longing ssstole doubt. Until one day, the moon could not grow any bigger.

Night crept in, and the moon grew bold. It rushed forward and with all the courage it could mussster, the moon bellowed, WAIT!

The sssun turned back and faced the golden moon. The coolness washed over itsss body in a silken carresss.

SSStay with me awhile, the moon called. Jusst for a little while longer.

The sssun ssmiled back. I would love to, it replied. But I have had a very long day and I am very tired.

The moon frowned. Itsss' heart wanted the sssun to ssstay all night, even as itsss' sssoul knew diferently. Their dessstiny alwaysss intertwined but alwaysss apart.

But on thisss magical night, the sssun backed up and inched clossser to the moon until they were completely aligned. Will you ssstay with me until I fall asssleep? It asked the moon.

As long as I am able, whissspered the moon. Ressst now, my love, and have sssweet dreamsss.

I will, breathed the sssun. For I alwaysss dream of you.”

The garter snake fell silent, searching the girl’s face. Camille was quiet for some time. Dusk had fallen over their little garden, a large olive tree covering part of her backyard in darkness. Camille looked up into the sky, first west toward the dying sun, then east toward the rising moon. Her mother had told her earlier that day that a lunar eclipse was coming.

When she finally looked down, Mr. Snake was gone. Thank you, she spoke into the night. Camille’s mother called from the back door to come inside and wash up for supper.

Camille gathered her gloves, trowel and watering can into her arms leaving the marigolds to bathe in the moonlight. A cool wind blew across her skin causing her to clutch her items tighter as Camille ran toward the open kitchen door.

Young AdultShort StoryLoveFantasyfamilyFable
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About the Creator

Rachael MacDonald

Avid Reader, Sometimes Poet, Occasional Writer, and searcher of truths often lost in the breaths between candy-coated lies.

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  • Testabout a year ago

    I liked this. It was a touch sinister, with the snake as a storyteller. Now I'm kinda hoping to have a next installment. What was that snake's agenda, I can't help wondering?

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