A Story by Aaron Astle

How obligatory patience bears the most unexpected results.


Drape the sky o star of western light, and to the west grant me direction and sight, lest you escape too swiftly into the night and I remain ignorant of how my path shall form, without your western light.

--Worry not child, though your spirit tires and your body must submit to sleep, know my watch must tend to all whom rest on the ground from whence you call me, but look to the blood in the clouds, the wall of fire that faintly cloaks the blue of the sky as I pass from your presence to the presence of those oceans apart from your standing, for there lies your guide--

But I am late o star, your blood and fire shadowed by the dark of the night, what then am I to ask for direction.

--I am but one of many, my children come to pardon my absence in nights such as this, as well as all nights to come, for they may be of lesser size to me, know their value is as great of that which you place in me. For they are the steeds to the chariot of a moon that will provide an eastern guide in it's rise to give you knowledge of the west. Be patient, look to my children and await their master, for he shall grant you an answer which my absence can no longer provide--

Tanis' eyes fell to the east of the night, or so the east he assumed. His eyes failing to remain open, he carries a palm of water from the lake he laid by to awaken his face and continue to peer into the emptiness which he had hoped the chariot master to fill, but to no avail. Hours pass as he lies in patience, the stars granting their light but with no moon to be found, however a rustling of leaves breaks the silence, and there stands a young lad whom draws Tanis' immediate attention.

"Where have you come from my boy?"

A silence once broken repairs itself in the boys lack of answer, clouds gather to sheathe the stars of their presence as a small rain befalls the grounds.

"What interest does this place provide for you?"

"I am from here, sir"

"Do elaborate if you can"

"I am from the lake you lay by, sir"

"Impossible, whom might I ask tasked you with retaining such a lie of your birth?"

"No one, sir, it's the truth"

"Then of whom were you birthed?"

"The one which you fail to seek this night"

"Your imagination is admirable, boy, but you are not of the moon which I seek"

"Moon as my father and Feridal my mother, I assure you my imagination plays no part in what I tell you, sir"

"Feridal, your mother, is this lake?"

"Correct, sir"

"What business then would such a child have with myself?"

"My father has asked me to inform you of his absence, he wishes you to know the direction he cannot provide this evening, for he and my mother must engage this evening in their monthly reuniting of love, I am here, sir, to grant you the direction you so patiently desire"

"Nonsense my boy, nonsense lives prominently on your tongue, how am I to believe this reunion you speak of to be truth?"

"It's in front of you, sir"

Rain and breeze cease in their efforts as the clouds escape to reveal once more the night sky, the lake stills and once more cradles the gentle light of the stars. Aged trees that bordered the waters edge drive the droplets of rain by way of the errant branches that reached in length to the lake's centre, and so began that the clouds children befell the lake one by one. Tanis remains in silent awe of where he saw the droplets to land, for naught the place in which they landed in the lake's waters, but rather the ripples.

"Sir, stand and walk this hill with me"

Tanis stands, the boy in lead of the way to a hilltop that gave overlook to the lake from a great height, and there the man's awe had been solidified, for in the ripples of the droplets from those of the trees that reached the lake, paid reflection to the starlight, though it seemed in distortion by nature of the ripples effect, what remained within the waters while they rippled was a starlit etching of a kiss between two souls.

"These… are your parents my boy?"

"Yes, we are to meet only because of the night you chose to rest aside my mother's watery peace, and the significance it held, shall I lead you to the western way, sir?"

"No boy, that is no longer necessary, for in the west I sought a love that had forgotten me, however not I, it. I was very lost, but it is in the beauty of your father and mother's love that I know myself to be a fool to be in chase of a love that knew no fruit, I'll return home, however when next can I marvel at this reunion you have shown me tonight?"

"When my father's waning is at it's last, sir, you may return to my homestead to witness their exchanges of affection"

"Thank you my boy, I bid you a fair night to you and your family"

"And to you, sir"

--Patience grasps the man only in his submission to time's strict nature, and so beauty and love was beheld from a soul who knew his submission to be of worth-

© 2013 Aaron Astle

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Added on March 25, 2013
Last Updated on March 25, 2013
Tags: patience, man, boy, moon, lake, beauty, love, short story, timeless


Aaron Astle
Aaron Astle

Auckland, Mt. Albert, New Zealand

I free myself in many ways, and yet ironically they all feel very isolating to an extent. Among many things, writing keeps my mind occupied for what little time it has to remain in one place. I wake u.. more..

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