Sun and Moon
Words By Max Finch, Art By Hailey Renee Brown
Sun was a strong spirit, fierce and bright. Effortlessly, he drew attention to himself in a moment’s notice. It helped that Sun was tall, large, and handsome. Sun hunted, fished, and prepared the skin and meat with ease. The power Sun held brought Mars, Venus, and the rest of the village to him.
No matter where Sun went or what Sun did, the village watched him. He felt eyes on his broad back as he walked the dirt path to his hut. Sun didn’t abhor the attention. It was a pleasure to be depended upon and seen as a figurehead.
What wasn’t a pleasure was to be ignored.
Out of one hundred and sixty villagers, there was only one who never dared to look at Sun. Moon, the sickly sibling of the wonderful Earth. They were a pale imitation of their sister. Their lank hair was plaited into twin braids that flew behind them as they ran across the fields after Earth. Sun would watch the siblings from his hut and observe. Moon would stain their white clothes and whiter skin with the reddish-brown of clay and the green of grass. Sun would see Earth forced to spend the late evening hours washing the linens until they were clean from stains.
It angered Sun to see hardworking Earth break her back for the ungrateful Moon. Earth had no children of her own, yet she toiled over every chore the village had. She joined the men in the fields, the women in the animal pens, and the village in the kitchens. She sewed clothes for the children and repaired any holes they had made. Moon only added to the never-ending list of chores.
Sun had had enough. The fires crackled and the villagers chatted, but Moon still did nothing. He stood from his seat and set his hands on his hips. Moon, he called out, come and help me fetch fresh wood for the fires. Moon startled, staring at him. Earth murmured something and Moon reluctantly stood. Eyes downcast, they weaved their way over to Sun and halted steps away from him.
Come along, Sun ordered. He turned and walked to the edge of the woods. Moon’s awkward footsteps followed him. The woods were dark and still. Perfect for Sun to express his anger towards the useless Moon. He turned to Moon, grabbed their wrists, and yanked the wretch forward to crash to the ground. Sun pinned them and wrapped a hand around Moon’s throat. Squeezed as Moon kicked and scratched weakly. No sounds came from their throat as Sun crushed it. He strangled with a sick glee as Moon’s pale face turned red, then purple, then returned to a pale shade once more. Finally, Moon’s body was still. Lifeless. Sun released his grip and stood. Dusted himself clean.
It was done.