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alixtiiBook & River, 311 words.
Through the Black, She Shines
The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. (John 1:5, NIV, unalt)
There was a reason that they called space the black. One oft felt alone in the dark, cut off from both man and God. It was not difficult for Book to believe that it could drive a man crazy, cause him to abandon his own humanity. Reavers were merely the logical endpoint of a life without God.
At night, when everyone else was asleep, he liked to come to the bridge and stare out at the vastness of God’s creation. Through the vast darkness of space, every once and a while a star’s light broke through, a visible sign of God’s love for humankind.
“It doesn’t understand,” a voice broke in.
Years of reflexes took over, and Book spun around, automatically reaching for the weapon he no longer wore. “River,” he said, kindly, when he saw the young girl, standing at the top of the stairs which led to the bridge. He made a gesture to welcome her in with him. “You startled me, child. I didn’t hear you come up.”
“It doesn’t understand,” River repeated. “The darkness. It has not understood it.”
“Understood what?” Book asked quietly. There was meaning behind her madness, that he was sure of. She was not the first one to speak in riddles, after all.
“The charm dissolves apace,” River said, sitting down in the copilot’s chair and looking up at the stars. “And as the morning steals upon the night, melting the darkness, so their rising senses begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle their clearer reason.”[*]
Even the Teacher himself would sometimes explain his parables, even if only for his most trusted disciples. Book was neither Joseph nor Daniel, able to interpret the dreams of kings. River’s ramblings, whatever they might mean, would require a far more skilled interpreter than he.
River smiled. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “The light shines anyway.”
[*] The Tempest V.i.72-76
Through the Black, She Shines
The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. (John 1:5, NIV, unalt)
There was a reason that they called space the black. One oft felt alone in the dark, cut off from both man and God. It was not difficult for Book to believe that it could drive a man crazy, cause him to abandon his own humanity. Reavers were merely the logical endpoint of a life without God.
At night, when everyone else was asleep, he liked to come to the bridge and stare out at the vastness of God’s creation. Through the vast darkness of space, every once and a while a star’s light broke through, a visible sign of God’s love for humankind.
“It doesn’t understand,” a voice broke in.
Years of reflexes took over, and Book spun around, automatically reaching for the weapon he no longer wore. “River,” he said, kindly, when he saw the young girl, standing at the top of the stairs which led to the bridge. He made a gesture to welcome her in with him. “You startled me, child. I didn’t hear you come up.”
“It doesn’t understand,” River repeated. “The darkness. It has not understood it.”
“Understood what?” Book asked quietly. There was meaning behind her madness, that he was sure of. She was not the first one to speak in riddles, after all.
“The charm dissolves apace,” River said, sitting down in the copilot’s chair and looking up at the stars. “And as the morning steals upon the night, melting the darkness, so their rising senses begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle their clearer reason.”[*]
Even the Teacher himself would sometimes explain his parables, even if only for his most trusted disciples. Book was neither Joseph nor Daniel, able to interpret the dreams of kings. River’s ramblings, whatever they might mean, would require a far more skilled interpreter than he.
River smiled. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “The light shines anyway.”
[*] The Tempest V.i.72-76
