It is one of
the mysteries
of our nature that a man, all unprepared,can receive a thunder-stroke like that and live.
Mark Twain
‘’TIME MEANS LITTLE TO A STAR’’
When People Disappear
By Tr33hugg3r206
The Moon
In an average galaxy, around an average star, there was an average sized planet. Unlike most of its kind, this planet had 2 small moons. Circling the planet in finely balanced orbits, they provided light in the darkness of night for the inhabitants of the world, and their pull on the oceans provided just the right amount of tide for life to flourish.
One day, a moon vanished. To the inhabitants actively looking at the moon at the moment, the effect was felt instantly, as the light was removed from their eyes. Those on the sea were next to notice, as the oceans began to sway back and forth to a new dissonant tempo. The loss was incalculable.
The other moons’ orbit wobbled, as the mass of, and connection to, its partner disappeared.
The planet itself began to tremble as its own motion through space was disturbed. Other planets in the system reacted, their paths shifting in sympathy to their companions’ loss.
Far away, the sun sensed the loss of a piece of its immense family and began to move to correct it. It sent out waves of stability and overpowering serenity to its charges.
Time means little to a star.
Slowly, the inhabitants of the world began to see by the light of the remaining moon. The oceans began to find a new rhythm, and life returned to the seas, different, but truly alive. The orbits of the remaining moon, the planet, and its many celestial companions, slowly began to settle into new paths.
Running Downhill
There are very few things to do in West Virginia when you’re a kid. Looking back, I seem to have a lot of very good memories involving the hills we grew up in. I could tell a hundred stories about those woods.
I remember running downhill vividly. As an adult, I understand the physics involved now and have a healthy respect for them. I don’t seem to remember needing any knowledge of physics at all when I was 12. I wanted to go down the hill, so I went. Fast. I would start jogging and, as the ground began to slope down, my speed would start to increase. I say hills but not “gentle” hills. Steep, baby, steep. Soon I would start leaping, a bit further each time, my knees taking the shock, further and further until I was, by definition, more falling than running. I remember reaching out and grabbing the trees as they flashed by and slowing myself just enough. I can remember the feel of those trees. The touch I laid on them was so gentle, just a tap really. As I would get towards the bottom, I would abandon the trees and just …let it go. Faster and faster and faster, until the threat of losing my control was, like,
HERE…NOW!
But my legs would do it, they made it every time. I never bit it. I would cut an angle, and start racing up the other side, unaware that, at that moment, I was an animal, alive and free, and purer than I would ever be again.
Dear Tr33 hug, I really enjoyed reading your analogy of grief, the words rhythm and new path,s especially stood out for me..sending hugs from Dublin💕