Day 4: There Was Water

Have you ever been to a beach Reverend? Don’t answer quite yet for I must apologize firstly. I’d assumed I had been calling your name correctly but just earlier your scribe (who has told me to refer to him as Brown) had informed me that what I had been using to refer to you was merely your complete title. Perhaps you’d like to tell me your name after all the has been made clear for us today. After our recording perhaps? I digress Reverend —what I’ve restrained in my mind is a memory that had confounded me the previous night, I have done all I can to preserve for you now.

It was a memory of Koda’s again, who I assumed had swiftly left the pool of my consciousness after I had recalled to you his relation to Moth. Yet he remains determined. The memory I have that I’ve so joyfully relented in sharing until now, is that of Moth’s fears. 

Koda had once brought Moth to a beach. The sand had already overtaken much of the sea so swimming seemed an impossibility. But during the right time in the evening and under the right circumstances, there was water. Not an ample amount to allow for sailing or habitation, but water nonetheless. It was water unlike that of the viscosity of the Nerys, but water you could breathe, water you could see the tips of your feet in, it was water that had pooled from the other side of Ennoia, where Koda believed his mother to have gone. It was wonderful, yet Moth had not even taken a step into the shore before Koda ran diving in. Moth was frozen, dropped down on the cold nighttime sand and resorted instead to writing her name over and over again on the surface of the sand with a stick. She’d written her name once before the before the cold breeze blew it away. She’d written it forty-five times before Koda’s wet feet washed away the first seven.  

Moth kicked up the sand into Koda’s face, he spat and dunked her face into the shallowing water. The twins were soaked and waited sitting next to each other until sunrise when the water had completely vanished once again. 

They arrived home soaked in water and that was the first day of many, Koda would lose sleep. He saw the results in that dreadful morning after their father had completely shaved Moth’s head of every individual white strand.

This memory danced within my head as if it were a dream. Though I know it to have happened. Yet when I look back on my time with Moth, I become more than willing to leave well enough alone.

The sun was up when I came to. My ears (or the gaps on my head you could consider ears) were bombarded by what sounded like a world of buzzing insects. The stone he was on was moist, the automaton, more dead than it had looked the previous evening. Moth was dry, legged and flying overhead towards a river that flowed vertically. It kept flowing and around me was water.

Recalling such distant memories causes me such exhaustion Reverend. I wish to sit on what I have just recalled, for I believe there is a deeper truth in there I wish to uncover for myself.