The burning light disappeared from his eyelids, so Cyclone opened them. He saw the glowing horizon and above, the ink sky, glittering with stars. He inhaled as if he had forgotten how to do during his sleep. Then he looked at the world. There was the grass under his bare feet, and then the sand there. And beyond, the sea. He had to go, he knew it, but he did not know why anymore.
“What should I do?” he asked heaven and stars.
“You have to enter the Sea” answered the stars.
He turned his head toward the dark water, mirror of the deformed sky, and he walked towards her. He did it every night, but why? He could not remember it anymore. He forgot every day.
The water was cold. The sea itself bowed before him. They knew each other, told him the little ripples. As he walked, he tried to look at her, but only saw his own reflection. He was pale even in the darkness. Her skin, her grey hair, and her eyes too. His eyes were grey, they should have been darker. The darker the night, the better he saw, the better he breathed. His body was knotted in multiple layers of white and silver cloth. He could not understand the complexity of what he was wearing, he could never have dressed like that himself.
When Cyclone had water up to the waist, the sea began to retreat for him, to follow his movement. He had his hands in the cold water, and he felt that she was there. But he could not touch her or see her, why? He saw only water. Why ...
He knew when it was over. He turned back and returned to the sand, the sea followed him. And now?
“What should I do ... “
“Do not you remember?” asked the stars.
“Every night you do the same thing and every day you forget.”
“You have to guide the kids now. “
Cyclone looked around him.
“There's no one ... “
There was the sea, but the stars did not talk about that, did they?
“They are not here.”
“You must see them with your light.”
“You can see everything your light is on.”
Cyclone closed his eyes. He saw something else. He saw life down there, people watching him, walking in his light. And who prayed for him, too. He saw tears and festivities, arguments, silence. He looked; eyes closed.
“Do you see them?” asked the stars.
He knew all that. He was remembering how it worked, that life down there.
“Why ... “
He knew nothing and everything was softly cloudy, like the Why ...
“... I've forgotten everything yet? “
Cyclone opened his eyes again. He continued to see everything his light was on, but he looked up at the stars. They did not answer ...
“What did I forget about important?”
“You forget every day.”
“Because the moon is weak”.
Cyclone lowered his head and looked at the ground beneath him. The grass that turned grey or silver, all the colours uniformly dark and soft. Heaven was there and looked at him too, even though he could not see Heaven. He saw only infinite ink.
“Who am I? ... “
The sky vibrated. The sea closed its eyes.
“You’re Cyclone.”" answered a star. “You have been chosen.”
“You have been chosen to be the deity of the Moon.”
“You are the Moon. “
“He’s Cyclone.” repeated the first star.
Cyclone looked at the sky with a pinch to the heart. There had been something before, but he had forgotten.
“Who chose me? “
“Me” answered the stars.
He felt so sad to have forgotten this important thing. Did the stars know? He could not ask them if he could not remember the question.
“Because you're Cyclone. “answered a star.
“Tell me what I forgot about important ... “
Cyclone saw life down at night. He had to offer her sleep, to lead her into the blurred reality of dreams. He must have torpedo her.
“You have forgotten the Sun. “
He looked around for him.
“Who is it, the sun? “
“The Sun too has chosen you. “says a star.
So why was not the sun there?
“And we also chose the Sun. “said the other stars.
“Who it is, the sun ... “
“It’s the one who he lights the day. “
The Moon had a star up there in the perfect centre of the sky, motionless for the night. A vast white sphere, damaged and scarred. It was from the star that Cyclone saw life down with its light.
The sun ... The Sun. It was this light that disappeared every night before Cyclone could open its eyes, did it?
“Is the Sun important? “
“The Sun gives strength to the Moon. “
“Then why do I forget ... “
He remembered the heat. The moon was cold. He remembered something sweet, and the moon was as solid as metal, fragile like glass.
“He is your gift from your light. “
So why did he forget about it?
“Is he still here? “
“He gives you the small half of the day and he calls it at night”.
“He lets you shine at night. “
“Why cannot I remember him? “
Cyclone remembered that the day was split in two. And he did not have his own light. There should have been someone.
He forgot every day. He asked every night.
“Why do I forget? “
“Because the moon has no memory." said the stars, and the sky vibrated.
“The moon should always sleep. “
“You have been chosen to be the One Who Sleeps”.
Cyclone sat in the grass, just under his star.
“Should I still be asleep? ... “
He did not remember, no sleep. Was it ... Was it before he woke up? But ... There was nothing.
“But the Sun also chose you”. Continued a star.
Cyclone did not want to be the sleeping one, there was nothing when he slept! There was nothing ... He had to wake up to feel the heat, the light against his closed eyelids. He did not want to feel anything, no longer remember and no longer think. Sleeping forever was like being dead.
Cyclone wanted to breathe.
“What does that mean? “
Where was the Sun now? If it was him who gave his light to the moon, Cyclone should have seen it. He could see everything on which his light was, and if it came from him, he should have seen it even better, was not it?
“And you?” he asked Heaven, who had not spoken, who would not speak. “Do you know? “
Heaven was listening, but he would not say anything. So, Cyclone did not ask for anything more. He did not know who the Sun was.
“I should thank him, I guess ... “
But if he was not there ... too bad after all. Cyclone focused on life downstairs. He had to give torpor.
The night passed. He thought of the Sun - why was he not there? - and then the horizon to blush, where it had been red on waking Cyclone. Was the sun coming? He got up, he wanted to look, but the light became orange and stronger, he had to close his eyes. And she still pierced her eyelids. The heat was blowing the air before he breathed it. He was silently choking.
“I do not want to be asleep ... “
His murmur was lost in the shadows as the cold of the moon gripped his consciousness.
Gravity straightened up, inspiring with difficulty as he awoke from his own body. His star had just crossed the horizon. He sat still sick in the faint yellow light of his huge sphere of fire. He was in pain, his heart had stopped beating, he was dead. Again.
How long would he have to endure that?
He saw the deity of the moon standing right next to him. Oh, Cyclone ... Cyclone could not see it when Gravity was dead. Cyclone could not see it at all. The moon was dazzled by him, the moon was blinded.
Gravity found the strength to get up, and as he came back into life, his star gained power and went back to the zenith. The star of the Moon disappeared little by little, became invisible in the sky. But the Sun saw everything on which its light was placed. And he offered so much to the Moon.
Gravity approached Cyclone. He was up, like every day. Eyes closed, in his trance. Gravity took his lunar face in his hands. He was desperately unconscious.
“I, too, want you to stay awake,” he said softly, resentfully.
Knowing he forgot everything every time he plunged into his coma transit was an extract of pure despair. To know that he was not here when Gravity was alive, that was ... Who had cut the day in half, which gave him enough light to see the night?
“You should at least remember me,” whispered the Sun by placing the head on the shoulder of the Moon
How long would he have to endure it again? Was there only another solution? The Moon was paralyzed by nature. She had no breath. But Cyclone ...
Gravity could not shed any tears since he was chosen to be the deity of the Sun. Heaven had become azure, and the sea with him. Stars, like the moon, had become invisible. The whole world was transforming to greet him. Every night was the first night for Cyclone, but Gravity remembered everything. Even what had been before they were chosen.
He pulled away and looked at him. His eyes were irreversibly closed. He could not reopen them until the sun's light went away. And for that, there was only one way.
“How much longer before the next eclipse? “
“Longer” Replied Heaven.
Gravity was not patient. He did not wait for the plants to grow, that winter melts. He did not spare what was fragile, he melted it, he did not wait. But for Cyclone, yes. He was waiting.
How long had he been waiting? It would be so much simpler, he told himself sometimes, to only die, not to come back to life. It would be easier. But then he could not see it anymore.
For Cyclone, every night was the first night and everything had to be rediscovered. The stars stopped telling him the story.
“Why are you doing this to me? “Gravity asked in the ruthless emptiness that dwelt in the deity of the Moon.
“Do not lose hope," replied Heaven.
There is nothing to hope for.
The Moon was doomed by nature. But Gravity could not resolve it. And Cyclone often repeated in the morning, at the moment when they almost crossed each other, that he wanted to be awake. How to refuse him? They wanted it both. So why was it so bad in the end?
“Do not lose hope," repeated Heaven. “Because all that starts is over.”
“What do you mean? “
“What begins ends. One day, your suffering will end too. I am Heaven, I saw many things begin and finish. And someday I'll go back to kiss the Earth, so maybe the Sun will kiss the Moon too. “
Heaven was patient. The sun was not you. He could no longer hope and die, again and again, to be ravaged again and again by disillusionment. He never shone strong enough to give his own life to the Moon, and as long as she did not, she would be doomed to tetany. The cyclone would be bound to forget every morning.
The eclipse ... It was only a small consolation. When the eclipse rose, the moon swallowed the light of the entire sun. It hurt horribly to the Sun, but then they could both be awake and alive.
Then, Cyclone let himself be touched, because he had vague reminiscences, but he did not know who the Sun was. Who was Gravity? And Gravity did not have time to explain everything to him, eclipses only lasted a few minutes. A few minutes to catch up with all those deaths and all that amnesia.
“What's the point, if he forgets me again and again ... “
Yet he could not give up. He still had hope, no need for Heaven to tell him to keep it.
“No day is the same as the previous one, Sun. That night the Moon asked who she was, and who you were. “
“What did the stars say? “
“The stars do not tell more history. “
When the stars were still telling the story, the moon had been crying out cometary showers and new seas, desperate to see the Sunrise and know that it was impossible. And then she forgot. It was useless to torture Cyclone, why make him suffer if he never remembered ...
The day passed. Gravity had warmed those who were cold and thirsty those who were hot, downstairs. He had grown the plants a bit, changed the ice into the water a little, and he had contemplated the moon.
And he had started to drop his star towards the horizon. He still had hope, he still hoped like crazy that Cyclone woke up long enough before he died. He always hoped in vain and he knew it but the hope was too strong for him to abandon it. Gravity could not give more to Cyclone. Cyclone wanted to live, so Gravity gave him his life.
When his star touched the horizon, he collapsed. He was not so far from him, reaching out he could have touched his ankles. He was shaking with pain as the horizon wiped out his heat. When the star was cut in half by him, Cyclone began to wake up. He emerged from his sleep like a newborn, perhaps he remembered even before you open your eyes. The star was about to disappear, precipitating its Sun in an agony that slowed as much as possible to see the Moon appear.
Gravity suffocated; it gave way to Cyclone.
On the brink of emptiness, he saw him open his eyes, breathe. Then he died.