Boy of the Moon

4

As Christopher-Elliot slept, he dreamed.

He and Emile were on the Moon. The moon dust felt like magic sand running through his fingers. Emile gestured for him to watch, and he picked up a handful of dust that glittered silver. He let it go. Instead of falling, the sand stayed right beneath Emile's hands. Emile moved his fingers this way then that way, pressing down or pulling apart the dust, twisting and pushing - sculpting.

Christopher-Elliot gathered his own dust and was in the middle of sculpting a jellyfish (he could not figure out why) when a tree-sized hunk of rock hurtled past.

Christopher-Elliot wanted in his mind to scream and recoil but at that moment, a big rock almost hitting him in space did not seem worthy of such a reaction. So he gazed after the glowing grey mass and it struck him that a little man was standing on the rock. Inconceivably yellow his hair was; flaxen and mustard and lemony all at once. A gold scarf trailed behind him, flapping peacefully despite the speed at which the rock spun. Christopher-Elliot believed he recognized the little man but thought nothing of it as he continued to pull at his moon dust jellyfish. He paid no heed to the cosmos whirling past him. His jellyfish was as wonderful as any jellyfish could be, with its bottom spongy like a wild mushroom, tendrils glimmering and coiling, and its head perfectly spotted with realistic imperfections that Christopher-Elliot could not remember where he observed. Despite its magnificence, there was something missing from it. He just couldn't figure out what it was. After listing all body parts and checking if they were there, he could not find a thing he had forgotten to sculpt, even though he felt its absence. He could not explain this feeling of... incompleteness.

No matter, he thought. Emile would not notice the missing thing because to Emile there was no missing thing, and it probably looked as any jellyfish would look to him. Emile would like the jellyfish.

But why was Emile standing so far away, looking at Christopher-Elliot in a weird way? He did not smile or frown at Christopher-Elliot, but seemed to look right through him as if seeing nothing there.

"Emile!" Christopher-Elliot called out, cupping his hands over his mouth. Strange - he couldn't hear his own voice. Had he imagined that he had shouted? "Emile!" he shouted again, straining his voice. Nothing. And Emile kept looking behind him in a way that made him feel nervous. He looked like the fish with glass eyes that hung over Christopher-Elliot's mantelpiece because once, his father had caught a big fish and it was a triumph, even though it was dead. Christopher-Elliot thought catching a live fish would be more magnificent, and more of a triumph because he had seen dinosaurs catch fish on television... Or were those bears?

Christopher-Elliot scratched his head in confusion, both at the expression on Emile's face and the question as to whether it was dinosaurs or bears that caught fish on television which was especially hard, he thought, because he remembered that both hunted fish, just not on television. By this time, Emile was out of his sight, lost behind the Moon's horizon.

"Where have you gone?" Christopher-Elliot said and the silence suddenly boomed with his voice. How was it that he could hear it now and not earlier? It was only when he said Emile's name that his voice could not make it. The Moon had infinitely grown in size as well and Christopher-Elliot shivered in his isolation. Hoping it would work, he yelled 'Stupid!' but it seemed that whoever was suffocating his voice knew he meant to call Emile. It must have been an entertaining sight to that someone then when Christopher-Elliot sat down with his knees bunched up to his chest, and clear liquid blobs floated away from his eyes to form a funny puddle on the Moon. It made no sense to him that Emile could leave him so easily when he cried if he wasn't there. He thought they were having so much fun before. What would Emile do when Christopher-Elliot left him so easily one day? Would he do as Christopher-Elliot did now, and sulk in the middle of nowhere on the Moon, or would he look for him? Would he yell his name until he could yell no longer, or would he carry on sculpting, as if Christopher-Elliot did not matter to him at all? He didn't matter in the least, did he? This thought made him furious so he stood up and wiped his tears. Stupid. He would no longer yell Emile's name. If he so wanted, he could come look for him himself.