Moon Pilgrim

The sea is calm today. Barely a breeze to keep the sails open and the ship on course. Only the vast blue motionless ocean to entertain the eyes. On days like these I tend to think back to my home. I was a priest for a quaint church. I would attend my priestly duties, offer a prayer for those who need it, then return home. I close my eyes and pretend I'm back there sometimes. The chatter of crewmen, waves beating against the ship’s hull, and the smell of salt water becomes the crackling of a warm fire, the gentle prayers of good Christians, and the smell of a freshly cooked supper. 

“Stop that wandering mind of yers Manning, won’t do us any good out here”

My captain, Osman Richards says, interrupting my pleasant memories. He stood over me, blocking my view of our old sails. 

“Aren’t cha’ sposed to be scribing or something?”

The shiny metal buttons on his dark blue doublet moved as he motioned for me to get up. 

“Sure ‘Captain’ Osman, right away” I sigh and pull out my quill, putting ink to paper.

The day began pleasantly, gentle winds carry the Pilgrim on its journey.

“Is that all?” Osman says, his rancid breath blowing on my face. I angrily scratch down some more.

Osman partook in his daily feast of stool.

“Aye '' Osman's voice raises “Even if yer my friend, I’ll flog yah like any other member of the crew” I wipe his spittle off my face.

“It’s a joke, Osman.” He thinks he’s above taking jokes now, even though he used to dish them out all the time. I stifle my anger, The past is the past after all.

“It’s fine, just don’t do it again. Passenger or not, I am still yer captain. Show some respect. Weren’t you taught any manners in the clergy?” 

“Just let me rest. It’s just my journal anyways, no harm done.” I lean back on the deck, and I try to wipe some more of his spittle off of my cassock. 

“I’ll allow it for now Manning, but-” He said, looking around at the sparse crew scattered about on deck “Don’t let the others think I’m giving you a break just because we’re friends. If you disrespect me again I will flog ya”

“Yes, Osman. I understand.” I say dismissively, already closing my eyes. Osman takes a seat by my side.

“No harm in a tale or two though, right Manning?” Osman says, smiling a wide grin with a notable lack of teeth. I don’t respond, I know he’s going to blather either way.  

“You know, this calm sea reminds me of the shallow waters around Merry Iona point…”

I had hoped to avoid his ‘tales’. I will admit, he has always had his way with words.  When we were young lads his stories would enthrall me, tales about him buying a simple loaf of bread would evolve into fantastical adventures. He had this way of blending reality and fiction to the point where sometimes I'd worry he didn’t even know which was which. It’s as if every time he tells these tales he’s back living them, and his listeners are there with him. I’ve grown weary of them with time.

He spun tales of his expeditions to islands on the edge of the world, lost isles in the Mar di India inhabited by Tiger people. Cities of men who crafted swords out of metal so sharp “It could cut The Pilgrim into two pieces” in Cipangu. These tales are undoubtedly false, stories likely taken from tribals. If he spouts his drivel in the wrong direction he may support the wrong kinds of ideas. Sometimes I wish I could live the life he regales. Adventures and glory, meeting new people. Of course, I would be teaching them the ways of the Lord. I want to spread His message, help the misguided tribals onto the right path. Though there is a selfish side of me. A side of me that wants to discover something. In truth, that’s the main reason I'm on this trip. I just want to find something so amazing, so brilliant, so indescribable it marks my name in history. I joined his crew as a missionary, though I'm treated as more of a passenger. Despite my dislike of Osman, it seemed the easiest option. 

He rattled on so long the sun began to set and the moon peered over the horizon, taking its rightful place up in the heavens. He finished his stories, but instead of branching off into another one, he stopped, letting his last words hang in the air. After a long silence I turned to him, his eyes glued to the sky.

“Thinking of another one are we?” I said dryly.

“No…no, just thinkin’. I’ve seen more than most men could dream of, and yet it feels like I still haven’t seen everything, seen what I was meant to see.”

“Don’t let your fantasies get to your head Osman, I will admit you’ve seen a lot. But, from what I can tell, you may have lost touch with what is truly important. ” I state calmly. 

He seems to ignore me, as he asks me a question.

“What do you think’s up there?”

“Up where?” I ask as I follow his eyeline to the full moon.

“Nothing worth thinking about. It was put out of our reach for a reason. It’s not meant for human eyes, only the eyes of its creator” I snap.

He doesn’t even acknowledge me and continues.

“I know what’s up there, jungles filled with exotic creatures, deserts of ruby and emerald, palaces made of golds and jewels that are inhabited by the gods themselves, and the sea-” he chuckles to himself, “A sea filled with islands that no man has ever laid eyes upon, a sea that…”

“Gods?” I felt some anger rise in my throat “You mean our Heavenly Father? right? Were you not listening to me before Osman?” Every word like a snake’s hiss. Rattling on about these things that seem completely out of this world, and multiple gods as well. 

“Or just the one, the one and His… angels.” He said passively. 

“Osman, this is your problem, You never listen ” I look over at him. No response. The heavy moonlight reflects in his eyes. I felt the anger in my throat fully explode. I stand up and move in front of him “I’m trying to help you Captain Osman. I’ve listened to you ramble on thousands of times, but-” I take a moment to find my words “I can’t accept this, this isn’t right Osman, this fantasy, this idea you’ve conjured of the world. You’ve clearly gone mad. What would your mother think? What would Cherie think? You abandoned her all those years and now you betray her again? Do you ever think at all! Or do you just spin fantasies to make you feel grander than you actually are!”

                I look at him again, he’s averting his gaze from mine. No light reflects back. Though I feel my anger justified, perhaps I took the incorrect approach. 

“Osman, I care about you. You’ve been a dear friend to me all my life… I don’t want to see you suffer in Damnation. When we pass, I hope we can stand alongside each other at the Golden Gates of Paradise. I want you to see your wife again Osman, you deserve that happiness. Don’t ruin it with all this talk about moon deserts and ‘gods’.”

Osman says “ Just-” but I cut him off.

“Osman. The Heavens are not meant to be breached by man. We are here. On this sea. On The Pilgrim. Not up there. We are not meant to go there. Not until our Heavenly Father deems it so.” I push a heavy breath out with that last statement. I take another breath and follow up.

“Please Osman, please understand. There’s a good path, and a bad one. Please choose the righteous one.” 

Osman looks me in the eyes, stands up, and begins walking away. The moon shines brighter in the starlit sky, though Osman is left in the dark. He throws open the hatch, making his way down into the hull of The Pilgrim.

“Just look at it, I know you can see, if you just look.” 

His words feel different, as if another man speaks in his stead. Quiet yet confident. No words leave my mouth. The hatch slams shut. Nothing on the horizon, nothing on the sea, no one on deck, only me and the moon. Silence echoes, as do my thoughts.

Some small part of me itches painfully in my chest. The feeling I got when Osman first left our town to see the world all those years ago. That feeling never left, in all the years he was gone. Osman would leave for years at a time, only visiting briefly to see his poor wife. I would avoid him on those visits, I despised the man for abandoning his wife. I never had a wife or kids, all I had was the Lord and His word. When his wife Cherie passed, of course I was sad, but some part of me was excited. I knew it was my chance. He had to return for his wife’s funeral. Despite my dislike, I wanted to get rid of the itch. I knew joining his crew as a missionary was my only chance. If I can’t scratch it, it’ll never go away. 

 Lord forgive me. Standing on the deck, drifting listlessly on the infinite sea. I look and I look and I look, and all I see is a gray dreary rock staring back. It’s just the Moon.

Little inklings of Color begin to sprout out of the surface. Nothing notable, a trick by a tired mind. Still, The colors begin to move and prance across the Moon, spreading over her surface. Filling the gray derelict rock with oceans, colorful lush jungles, deserts of ruby, and mountains of jade. Cities begin to spring up, made of metal and gold, filled with colorful exotic creatures. I take a deep breath, The Pilgrim’s deck escapes me, as do the waves beating against its hull. I cannot tell if I am drifting further into my mind or elsewhere. I smell food. Wines that are fruity and rich, meats and steaks seasoned with spices from all across the world. Their aroma fills my nose and makes my head spin. A meal for a king, no, a King of Kings, or even greater than that. A being revered by the Heavens. I stand up, and instead of the hard wood of The Pilgrim I feel warm sand under my toes. I would panic, but my awe is overwhelming. I look upon a palace that towers over me, almost the size of a mountain or maybe two? It’s grandeur almost stinging my eyes, not too unlike the salty air of the sea. An opulence that befits a God. A God? 

Am I wrong in saying its beauty is far beyond my own God? 

In the sky above, the stars dance and twinkle with delight. It seems our little blue marble has a dancing partner with Mars as it joins a ball in the sky. The whole universe is celebrating this King upon Kings. Behind me a desert of ruby spans as far as I can see, flanking the palace is a rainforest with trees that shoot up into the sky, on its ground flowers of every color and variety. A choir of birds emit from the leaves of the forest, a song so beautiful I resist falling to my knees in awe. I look upon the palace once again, its form a mix of smooth and sharp edges that imitate the waves of the sea, somewhat harsh yet entirely welcoming. Two depictions of an indescribable being are on either side of a massive door engraved with red and purple light. So brilliant, so spectacular, I feel as if I cannot even take another breath. The choir of birds joins a choir of man that emits from the jubilant blue marble. A song of pure nostalgia and warmth. The massive doors click and groan, slowly pushing outwards. I feel excitement rise in my throat, the stars in the sky twinkle and waltz. I feel a crowd of beings push past me, yet there are none in sight. I feel their eagerness, their elation. All of us united in bliss and wonder.

He’s finally revealing himself again. 

The doors push all the way open, inside a hall of celestial significance. The jubilant dance in the sky pauses, the Choir halts. Banners made of an early morning sky drape the walls of a deep hallway, and at its end a throne. 

A throne that is…

Empty? 

 Abandoned? No being leaves the hall. No King of Kings reveals himself. It’s vacant? Why is it vacant?

I open my eyes. I don’t understand, it was so vivid. Everything I saw, I experienced. It felt like I was really living it, a fantasy far beyond my own imagination.

 I close my eyes, I need to go back. It can’t be true. Empty? What was all the lavishness for then? I try to recall every detail, keep it fresh in my mind. I have to hold on. I open my eyes, and look up at the radiant Moon again. Splendor and beauty in all. I know I just have to keep looking, and I'll see it again. I’ll be there again. 

I look and I look and I look, I begin to fear I was lost in the mind. The details of my first visit slipping like sand through open fingers. A fear takes hold in my stomach that I can’t shake, like I've lost something precious to me that I may never get back. I desperately close my eyes and open them, hoping the lights will show themselves again. I press my hands on the hardwood, hoping to feel the warm sand again. I can’t lose this.

“Manning! What the hell are you doing? Get off yer knees''

“The Moon, the palaces, the deserts, the…” I fumble for a moment. Searching my mind for a description.

“Manning?”

I recollect my composure “The Moon, you told me to look….you said I’d see, the beauty she holds, I’d understand, and I do now, I understand. I just want to see it again, see what you saw.”

Osman’s look of anger quickly recedes into a look of confusion.  

“I didn’t tell you to look at anything Manning.”

“But you do want to see the Moon right, you told me you wanted to go there. That she’s the one place you need to go, right?” I say somewhat desperately “I’ve been wrong this whole time. I never knew anything, right? Osman?” My voice cracks. My composure breaks again “Osman?” Tears fall down my cheeks.

“The moon. An old dream of an old man. You were right, Manning. It’s clearly not meant for any of us down here to see-”

He pauses for a brief moment.

“I was wrong.”

I look for words to explain myself before I realize they clearly don’t exist. So I saw something that he was unable to see, I discovered something he didn’t. A moment's elation is replaced by despair as I realize, I might not have even been there.  

“No! No! I was wrong, I've lived my whole life and somehow I never looked up. No wife, no family, I’ve wasted my life and you never even tried to-”

“Manning-”

“No! Just…No! Heaven's sake Osman, you can’t just. I’ve been looking down my whole life, why didn’t you ever tell me to look up. Do you hate me! Do you think you’re better than me?!” sweat drips from my brow, my voice grows hoarse. “Better than me?” I say with a lot less vitriol. I feel my hands twitching.

Osman walks up, placing both hands on my shoulders. The stench of his breath once again hits my face.

“I want to see my wife again, Manning. ” his voice croaks up “And that’s only going to happen if I follow the right path. You know this Manning” He stops for a moment, letting go of my shoulders.

 “Whatever you saw, it doesn’t matter. That’s what faith means eh? Maybe a trick from the Man himself, a test of yer faith?” He looks at me, I can’t make out his expression. The Moon doesn’t light his face, only his back. Yet, she shines in my eyes.

I nod, I know it happened. I know it’s real. This is what I wanted right? Osman clearly never saw it, hell he may have never even been the one to tell me to look up. I hesitate to glance at The Moon’s surface. That’s what faith means eh? His words echo in my mind, they set me on the right path. I don’t look up. He was referring to the false words of the Bible. My stomach twists and growls. Even thinking that wrenches my insides, and yet. The realization hits me..

The itch, it’s gone. 

Joy rises through my throat and up into my eyes. I begin to laugh, an overwhelming bliss that I do not resist as my eyes begin to well up with tears. It has to have been real. I’m going to go back, I'll see it again. My vision begins to blur. I wipe tears from my eyes. Osman swings open the hatch, he sneaks a worried glance at me. But nothing more. I have faith. Faith in something far greater now. He walks down the rotted wood, I regain my composure and follow. Faith that our true Father will return. I slam the hatch shut. When that time comes, I’ll sail the Pilgrim straight to where it belongs, through the sky and the stars. Straight to the Moon.