I have always liked staring at the moon. There’s just the mystery of what she is. Dos she shine her light on only the worthy? Does her chariot descend to the earth? Is she eternal?

There was never a chance for me to play with the other children, there was always some sickness or another that kept me indoors. I could never appreciate the sun’s harsh rays, but in the night, among the starlight and the gentle breeze, my only friend was the moon.

The elders tell stories that if the moon were to cease being in the sky, the world would end. I laughed at those stories once upon a time, for how could the moon ever stop her perpetual cycle? She was the dream made into reality, the perfect harbinger of light.

That is, until I saw the lion.

It was called the Arimaonga by the elders. I didn’t know how to react as terror filled my entire body. It was larger than I thought any animal could ever be. And it was clutching my beloved moon.

Time froze then, I stared helplessly as my only friend was being devoured by the beast. In some perverse way, the lion was playing a game, not knowing that it may just be the doom of us all.

She was more scared than I was. I could feel her hopelessness as she was clutched between the jaws of the lion. I started crying then.

“Lion, release the moon or the world will come to an end!”

I don’t know why I started saying those words but it felt natural, like they needed to be said.

“Lion, release the moon or the world will come to an end!”

The other villagers stared joining me in the chant. The elders brought out their drums and gongs to make the noises reach the heavens.


Our throats were hoarse, our breath almost gone but we did not stop. I will not abandon her to the lion, this village will not abandon her.

The lion finally released the moon after what seemed like an eternity. She clutched her sides and resumed her track along the heavens.

And I, a humble child, thanked the gods that my only friend was safe.


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