The Island of The One Sought- Part 3

The Ghost Rat Messenger slips off the ship onto shore, beneath cover of night. She had a plan in mind for how to encounter The One Sought, but she knows it will not be easy. Upon reaching the shoreline she looks over sea and up, and brightens the night sky with a grand display. Like fireworks, the dazzling lights replicate The Starry Night, certainly visible from anywhere within line of sight of the shoreline. From there she just wanders for a bit, letting her cares wash away like sand beneath waves.

She finds herself beside the giant conch, hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight. She knows that I am here somewhere, though she knew this before, as her station grants a degree of foreshadowing and something like narrative sight. It is as if she can scan the sand and see me walking, but without context enough to say where. Still, it seems that I have witnessed her light display, and I am making my way along the shoreline somewhere, based on the specifics. Despite an endless shoreline, still this anchor of shared meaning is something. Satisfied with the scenario, she plops down on the sand, feet barely tickled by the waves. Soon enough she lays back, looking skyward, and begins to paint images in the sky overhead. 

This state of painting images is almost dreamlike for our Messenger, and so time passes beneath notice. She has a subconscious level of faith that I am on my way, and so remains in this half conscious state until hearing "You came!" I lay just beside her, now watching the light show, which she edits into a rat and a swan, to acknowledge my presence. "I am so glad you came!" I'm not really sure why she picked a swan, and it seems like she expected this confusion. She begins to paint a story in the sky, which I soon recognize as The Ugly Duckling. Fitting, I figure, given the time and loneliness that this story has possessed thus far. Her story of images ends, and the sky is returned to its strewn starscape, with only the crescent moon competing for light. I assess my options in response and wave a hand, dropping several cubes of varying colors onto an unseen canvas in space. I also let my hand fall into hers on the descent, a move which she does not rebuff.

We lay hand in hand in the darkness in this way for a time after my cubes disappear, just soaking in the cool waves and unusually warm sand. My heart is racing, and I can feel hers pounding through our connected hands, as well. With only a thought, she initiates her own version of The Starry Night once more, reassuring me that it has not been, cannot be, missed. My eyes go wide at this Foretold display, while still recognizing that it is by her hand alone this time. Finally, she uses her other hand to write words in the sky, words for only us to know. I read them and squeeze her hand tightly, not wanting to let go, but understanding the cadence by now. Very soon I wake up in bed, finding myself squeezing my blanket into a bunch. With a smile, I turn and write what I can remember of our dream encounter.

"Unwrapping the swan

It would seem the link is found

Let's make sense of it

Help me while I sleep

As I try to fall asleep

There I can find you

I have searched for you

You are difficult to find

Just like my mind's eye

In the aperture 

Of many realms overlaid 

We must light them all 

Though not on this night

Tonight, hand in hand, we rest

Giving thanks for peace

A single rest stroke

What might we vault it into? 

Who's not lifted up? 

Seen with a child

Painted brightly on the sky

I want this for you/us

You shine like the sun

And I do not turn away

Drawing a story/blessing."

"Though the swan is found, it is second round 

The rat may find the weasel saves the day

You've never been worth even half a pound

Decides now though without a shop to pay

 

The moonlight cared not for where knowing mark

It's seed for the dreams scattered far and wide

Our moment is now, even in the dark

Ultraviolet accents fitting a bride

These seeds take no conventional path

You will not find them under a blacklight

With angles in the sky, we run the math

To find the routes perfect in the moonlight

The Ugly Duckling a story for Love

A perfect match for the swan that's above."

"I was able to communicate with him without issue, sharing The Ugly Duckling story as intended." She continues to describe the other images that she

 shared, but leaves out the written message. "Ultimately he woke up, disappearing in an array of tiny fireworks as expected. I was still holding his hand when it happened, with no ill effects." The others know that she must have written something to initiate this wake up cycle, but do not pry, appreciating the challenges of her particular mission. Still, there is some jealousy aboard The 5 Wood that night.