Dancing with the Sun
Written by Jennifer Gerfen for Thread FW 22
The girl danced with the sun. Her fingers fluttered through golden light while her toes twisted and turned in the dirt. She whirled her way through the melodies of time; she sang to the sun, and the sun sang back. Its light coated her dark skin like honey, coiled through her tight curls of hair, and settled itself inside her soul. The girl let out a childish laugh, loose with delight at this gift from the sun.
If there had been anyone to see her, they would have stared. With wide eyes and open mouths, they would have marveled at this wild girl dancing with the sun and soaked in borrowed light. But there was nobody to watch her.
There never was.
When the sun began to sing its final farewell, the girl slowed her arms and stopped her feet. Breathlessly, she watched the sun slip away. Leaving her, again.
The girl wasn’t angry at the sun, not anymore. She had been when she was small and didn’t know the ways of the world. She’d raged at the sun for abandoning her each night.
But the girl didn’t get angry at the sun anymore, nor fearful of the night. The dark was just a thing to know, learn from, and be wary of. There were no making deals with the shadows unless you wanted to sell yourself away.
“Goodbye,” she whispered as the sun pulled night over itself like an inky blanket. The girl was left with the stars and the moon, but they were poor company. She always felt they talked too much.
“We’re sorry,” the stars chorused, making the girl shiver inside her skin.
“You’ve been done wrong,” the moon added, remorse dulling its light.
The girl didn’t bother asking them what they meant anymore. When she was smaller, before she knew the ways of the world, she’d screamed at the sky. She’d begged for answers, threatened and pouted and cajoled. Her friend, the sun, never answered her in words. And the night sky had a tendency to repeat itself:
“We’re sorry. We’re sorry.”
“You’ve been done wrong.”
Exhausted, the girl lay down under a sky of voices and lights. But sleep proved an elusive thing, lost among the chants of remorse. The girl scrunched her eyes closed tighter. “I wish you all were more like the sun,” she whispered. Her voice was a broken thing.
The girl felt the stars laugh in perfect unison. She opened her eyes to see the moon looming low and bright. “Oh, child. It was the sun who did you wrong.”
In her mind’s eye, the girl saw dozens of images. A blazing sun, causing drought and disease and fire. Ruthless heat, relentless light. Beings like her - humans, people. People suffering and starving, people warring over water that was stolen by the sun. Melting ice and rising seas. Animals dying, one by one. Hunger and thirst and floods and death.
The girl screamed.
“You’re lying!” she yelled, her voice louder in her ears than she’d ever heard it. “Stop lying!” Sobs tore up her insides. “Why am I the only one left?” The girl curled up on her side, hating the way her feelings tangled in her throat.
The moon tried its best to be reassuring. “We could save only one.”
The girl screamed, again and again, raging at the earth and the sky and the truth. She screamed herself to sleep.
When she woke, the sun felt cold and small in the air. The girl struggled to her feet, cursing the tears that swam in her eyes. “Why?” she yelled. “Why did you do this?”
For the first time ever, the sun spoke.“Child, it was not I who committed this sin.”
And in her mind, the girl saw more memories than before. She saw beings like her - humans, people. They cut down trees and dumped poison in rivers. They cluttered the earth with unnatural things, wasted resources, and guzzled power. They made gas that held the sun’s heat to the earth, trapping it so that it burned. The humans killed and warred and wasted and died.
“I did not intend for my light to be used that way,” the sun lamented. “I could only save one. I’m sorry. You’ve been done wrong.”
With a tentative air, the sun shone its light upon the girl once more. It coated her skin and her hair and her soul. “I’m sorry?” The sun asked, desperation in its voice.
The girl wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. With sorrow curled around her bones, she began to sway. Her toes twisted and turned in the dirt while her fingers fluttered through the golden light.
She danced with the sun, and the sun danced back, on top of the grave of the earth.