Moonlight

 “Today, as in the past, the moon and the sea are sources of mystery and fascination.”

-Sea Magic: Connecting with The Ocean’s Energy,

Sandra Kynes

There was a standing invitation in this town: as long as the lamp was lit outside the sea witch’s house, you were welcome to stop by for a tarot reading. The sign beside the lamp read: Come only at night, and bring something to trade. Cassandra found that letting querents offer her something of interest created a bond between them. She’d been given everything from seashells to antique jewelry, and once, a tiny, orange kitten. It didn’t matter what, as long as it was steeped in intention, though the cat was a personal favorite. 

Cass left the city three years ago. She left to escape herself, the only problem being that she’d brought herself along. She went through phases, sometimes she could see clearly, and sometimes she got so lost in anxiety spirals that it was like she could only breathe if she was listening to the waves. 

There was something about the sea that fixed the broken parts inside of her. It always had. Growing up, she was the girl who believed in mermaids and woke at dawn to watch the dolphins play. Sometimes she would think back on that young and dreamy child and cry for days that would never return, simplicity that would never be recaptured. She journaled about it, drawing pictures of a little girl with eyes full of oceans and a short-haired woman made of sand.  She wrote to make sense of things, “It feels like I’m drowning, underwater…no, that’s wrong, I love water, water feels right, it feels like I’m trying to move through honey, like I’m seeing and hearing the world through it, but sort of just stuck there, because moving is so difficult.” 

Cass poured a cup of tea, lit a candle, and began to shuffle her cards. She wasn’t expecting any querents tonight, this reading was for her. As she shuffled, she thought the thought again, something that had been repeating in her mind. She’d tried writing about it, drawing about it, singing about it, but it was too hard to put into words. She could only describe it as a terrible longing for something, or maybe someone, that isn’t. Something that never had been, but is still a part of her soul that’s missing. 

The ritual of reading itself was always very grounding for her, even if it occasionally ended in tears. Sometimes she needs the tears. The cards knew it, they whispered to her, “You’ve been keeping your soul in a bottle, Cassandra. That won’t keep you safe. It will make you explode.” But, before she could lay down a single card, she heard the knock. 

If a knock could be described as elegant, this one was. Elegant and very unexpected. She was surprised she heard it over the rain.

Cass opened the door and the wind practically blew the woman outside into the little house. She was tall and stately, with long silver hair, and she wore a dark coat and gloves. 

 “These storms are too dangerous to be walking around in,” Cass said, “You must be from out of town.”

“Something like that,” the woman said, in a silvery voice.

            “Are you here for a reading, or did you brave the storm for something else?" Cass raised a curious eyebrow. 

            “I came to enjoy the new moon; when I saw your sign I got curious, unless you were in the middle of something,” the woman glanced at the candle and cards.

            Cass considered. She was in the middle of something, but her own curiosity had been piqued by this mystery woman with sparkling grey eyes and more elegance than any tourist she’d ever met. 

            “I would be glad to read for you.”     

Cass guided the woman, who had neither taken off her rain soaked coat and gloves nor offered her name, to a seat. The woman smoothed her hair and watched Cass with interest as she went to pick out a deck. 

            “You already have one out don’t you, why do you need a new one?" the woman asked. It sounded more like a test than a real question.

            “Each deck has a different personality," Cass explained, “I need to choose the right one for the circumstances.”

“And what might those be?" a sly smile crossed her face.

“Mystery," Cass returned the smile. She noted that the woman’s features were fine and sharp, like she’d been carved by a careful sculptor. Despite her silver hair, she looked ageless.

            “Do you have anything in mind?" Cass asked.

            “You could tell me about my future," the woman mused, “or perhaps, my past.”

            “I can do both,” Cass winked a sparkly eyelid. 

The woman looked bewitched while she watched Cass shuffle the new deck, cards with gilded silver and white images set on black backgrounds moving through her tan fingers. It was one of her newer decks; but it was quickly becoming a favorite. It reminded her of the woman. She thought about her, all she didn’t know of her, and decided that sometimes simplicity served a reading better than complexity.

            Finished shuffling, she split the deck into three piles and prompted the woman to pick one. She pointed at the middle deck with a long, black-gloved finger. Cass fanned out the cards. Choose. Choose again. Choose again.

            “This one," Cass explained, “represents your past. This middle one is your present. And this one is your future.” Her voice was even. She was in her element. 

Cass flipped over the woman’s past. A silver owl was tethered by one talon to a lantern, looking pensive. 

“If you’ve seen tarot cards before these may look a bit different. They’re the same archetypes you’ll find in most decks though," she held up the owl, “This is The Thinker. Most decks call him The Hermit. The Hermit is a major arcana card; all of them are archetypal figures. When read upright, he is all about meditation, contemplation, and setting aside time for thought. Usually he’s an old man; but in this deck he’s an owl. Owls are symbols of wisdom, associated with the goddess Athena. He perches on the lantern of illuminated thought. If we look closely, the wise owl is trapped in his own introspection.” 

Cass pointed to the tiny silver chain connecting the owl to the handle of the lantern. “This suggests a past of thought in isolation. Perhaps you are coming out of a period of meditation, or seclusion. Although this isn’t a reverse read, do be aware that one aspect of this card speaks to the dangers of isolation.” 

The woman’s face betrayed nothing, so Cass went on. She flipped the middle card and raised an eyebrow, a silver figure held a white heart and a white figure held a silver heart, their hands entwined as the hearts drip with stylized blood.

“The Lovers. They don’t necessarily mean romantic love. It’s really a card about union and harmonious relationships. Of course, they can speak to romance.”

The woman smiled, a little wistful. From her eyes, Cass gathered that the present needed no more explaining.

When Cass flipped the final card, she was surprised. She didn’t know why, this had been a night of mystery, after all. She held it up so the woman could see the full moon. It stood out from the black, the sole image on the card. 

“The moon is an interesting card.”

“Is it?" the woman raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on her face.

“Oh yes, she’s a card of mystery. All about the subconscious. She often speaks to anxiety, fear, but intuition as well. She’s not a bad card, bad omen, nothing like that. A card of consideration. The moon disappears and reappears, a magic trick, an illusion. The subconscious is illusive in similar ways, thoughts appearing and disappearing, burying themselves in hidden corners. This card suggests a future of mystery. Some of your old anxieties and fears may reappear. But, use your intuition…," she paused, “Better to have the moonlight than be left in the dark.”

They were silent for a time, listening, then the woman said, “You are an excellent reader.”

            “Thank you. I’m still learning though.”

 “If you were not still learning, you would not be excellent." she said. “Now I believe I must offer you something in return.”

“Honestly, I’d completely forgotten about that," Cass admitted. She started to say, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve enjoyed the company,” but she was cut off.

            “Will a story do, Cassandra?" the woman said.

            The people who brought her stories were rare. But they were Cass’s favorites, and she couldn’t refuse. 

“Of course," she smiled. 

“Once upon a time, The Moon fell in love with The Sea,” the woman began. 

Cass closed her eyes, not thinking about how she’d never mentioned her name. Instead, she focused on the enchanting voice that made “Cassandra” sound like a spell. 

When this world was made The Sea had no tides and The Moon had no phases.

The Moon was born in darkness, woven of silver strings and placed in the sky by an invisible architect. She didn’t know what she was, when she was born, or who she would come to be. In that way, she was just like any other newborn.  When The Moon was born, the stars danced, to welcome her home.

The Sea was born in light. She was sculpted of seaweed, seashells, salt, and sand, set under the sun, to hug the earth with her waters. When she was born, all the waters of the earth welcomed her: rivers and lakes, streams and lagoons, waterfalls and the snow capping the highest mountains.

The Moon was lonely; she flew above the earth, longing to be closer. From above, she saw the blue that covered it, and thought it the most beautiful thing in all of creation.”

“I know the feeling," Cass whispered.

Back then, there was less attention paid to The Moon. The Architect was busy building an entire universe. If one little moon went missing, who would notice? So, she made a plan. While the stars watched creation unfold around them, The Moon found her own universe in one small planet.

The Sea was wild. She was peace one minute and death the next. She demanded respect. She would bewitch you. Her waves sang a siren’s song and you were gone. But, she was earthbound, and that bothered her. Each night, when the sun went down, she would watch the stars reflect in her waters and wonder what it was like up there. She loved the stars; but she loved the silver light of The Moon even more. One night, The Moon disappeared, and The Sea wept. When The Sea cries, sailors drown.

The Moon knew nothing of this; she was too busy exploring. She wanted to find The Sea, the beauty that she’d seen from above, but she was known to get sidetracked. She was drawn to every pond, every stream. Swimming felt the way it felt to be in the sky. But when she swam, she turned the rivers to liquid light. When she walked across lakes, the fish dreamed of moonbeams.

The Sea had decided that The Moon would never come back. Sometimes it felt like moments since she’d seen it last, and sometimes it felt like five eternities. Time doesn’t work the same way for The Sea as it does for other creatures. It sometimes seems faster, sometimes slower. It always feels like water. She stared up at the dark sky and waited. She was not sure what she was waiting for. She would know whenever it arrived.

She was not sure what she was waiting for. She would know whenever it arrived. Cass didn’t understand how this mystery woman had cracked open her heart and boiled it down to that one sentence. 

Eventually, The Moon found a land of sand and heat, and there she found The Sea. It was night, but The Moon lit the beach and saw The Sea clearly. Her skin was the stormy swirl of blues and greens and something else she couldn’t quite name. Her tangled mermaid hair was foam white, woven with bits of shell and pearl and aquatic plant life. Her tearless eyes were full of water.

“Hello," The Moon said.

The Sea sat up, turning towards the voice. The woman illuminating her shore looked like a queen. She sat down next to The Sea. She didn’t care that the sand covered the fine fabric of her dress or that the night wind tangled her hair. She had been searching for so long.

“I have been looking for you," The Moon said, her face bright and curious.

“You have?," The Sea asked.

“I saw you from the sky. I had to come find you.”

The Sea looked at the woman. She was all in silver, her skin, her hair, her eyes, her gown-and she glowed. 

“You’re The Moon, aren’t you," her liquid eyes were wide, “You used to light the sky. I waited for you for so long, but you never came back.”

“I’m here now.”

But The Sea was worried. She paused, eyes growing dark, “I’m dangerous, I’m deep, I’ll drown you. You should run away.”

“You can’t drown the moon," she smiled.

“But it’s not that easy," Cass interrupted, “Not in real life. You don’t just see someone and fall in love and then everything is bright and beautiful.”  Even if Cass secretly wanted it to be. Even if she was a hopeless romantic who wore “realist” as armor around her heart. The woman answered only with story.

The two women traveled the world together. Anywhere an ocean touched, they went. The Sea saw the earth through The Moon’s eyes, and The Moon taught The Sea to find star pictures in the sky. And, for a time, they were happy.

But, you don’t just see someone and fall in love and then everything is bright and beautiful. Eventually, The Moon’s absence from the sky was noticed. Three stars were sent to earth to bring her back home. This is why The Sea has her high tide. She is reaching to The Moon, reaching to her lover, though she will never get to her.

 The Moon went to The Architect to plead her case, but The Architect had never been a creature of empathy. After much debate, they came to an agreement. The Moon would live in phases. Each month she would wane and then, for three days, she could walk the earth. But, if she failed to return to the sky after her days of darkness to wax again, the agreement would come to an end. And that is how they live now, The Moon has her phases, and for three days each month she goes to earth and is again reunited with The Sea. 

“A bittersweet ending, don’t you think," the woman smiled sadly.

Cass’s brain was spinning, her soul was spilling out of the bottle and back into her heart and it was all too fast to stop. She thought maybe she shouldn’t be this affected by the pain of people in a fairytale, and that she’d have to think about why their sorrow hurt her so much some time when she was able to actually think. Tears in her voice, she said, “But wait. That can’t be all. You can’t leave it like that. That’s…that’s tragic.”

“I never promised you a happy ending, Cassandra, only a story.” 

            Cass nodded, sighing, and the orange cat picked this moment to jump up on her lap, seeking attention. 

            “Thank you for the story," she said, “It was beautiful, even if it was sad.”

            “Sad things are sometimes beautiful," the woman said, “and it’s not a true tragedy, they have the new moons together. Like your card, they hold each other’s hearts even through their pain.”

Cass thought that the woman speaks in poetry and wondered if she even realized it. 

            “I should be going now," the woman said. Cass doesn’t want her to go. This elegant stranger was the most interesting thing that had happened to her in a long time. 

 “This has been enlightening. I do love finding such fascinating distractions, but I have somewhere to be. Thank you for the insights. And for listening. Oh, and Cassandra," she paused, “take your own advice.” 

Before Cass could process that, or even warn the woman to be careful in the storm, she glided out the door. Like she was never there. 

“Take my own advice," Cass said, “what does that mean?” 

The full moon shimmered on the table behind her. She knew exactly what it meant. She ran a hand through her short blue hair, sighing, and poured a new cup of tea. 

“Tired, that’s what I am, tired," she said to the cat, who followed her and her tea to the window seat. He meowed and curled up at her feet as she sipped the hot drink, staring out at the wild beauty of the stormy sea. She was tired. Maybe she was beginning to fall into dreams, but Cass swore that through the wind and rain she saw a glowing figure with long silver hair standing in the surf and a woman’s silhouette rising from the waves to meet her.