[RiddleRose]: 298.Stories.A Holiday

The tree waved its branches at the wind. It waved goodbye to the wind, and obligingly, the wind went away. The tree was a tree, and being a tree, did not speak, as such, but had it had the capacity to form a word, it would have said something like this. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.......” As it was, it merely went, “Ahhhhshhhhh.....” and then was silent. There was a slight rustle as a squirrel changed position. 

Later that night, the tree thought, as trees do, that the sky should be more interesting sometimes. It was overcast, and the tree could not even feel the starlight on its leaves. The fog was nice and moist, to be sure, but the tree missed the starlight. It had been foggy for a long time now, and it wanted some of the exciting glitter and sparkle of the stars. 

The stars, on the other hand, looked down on the earth, and saw most of it covered with fog, and decided to take a short holiday. Across the deep ranges of space they communicated, as stars do, and made plans to meet at a particularly popular black hole, off on the edge of the Universe. So, slowly, they made their way to the edge of the Universe, drifting across the dark/bright sea of space, through the absolute black that came alive where they touched it, and quivered and burned with the fire of their passing for a year or a day, or merely a moment, until they were gone, and moved on. 

As the first star came to the black hole on the edge of the Universe, the music of the place drifted to the star's being. It had no ears of course, but as it entered the black hole, it was stripped down to its essence. The flaming shroud of gas and nuclear fission was stripped away, and the Star emerged, whole and pure. 

It was a being shaped of years of human wonder and prayers, and it had no form. It was a being, perhaps of fire, perhaps merely of light without a source, perhaps only of a dream. It stretched, as much as it could stretch without limbs (or were there limbs?), remembering this form. This was how it had been long ago, at the Beginning, when the Stars had fought for dominion over the new and brilliant shade of space. It remembered that, so long ago, the rush and seethe and crackle of the battles fought. Matter had been created then, accidentally, and there had been epic stories of love and hate and war. They had been tumultuous times, when Time was still young, and everything was fresh, and the only forms the Stars had were these.

Eventually of course, it had to end. Only a few of the old ones were left now, the originals, the veterans of that time of glory. Now the factions reigned over the Universe, grouped into galaxies for convenience. At the centers of the galaxies there were still some minor battles and skirmishes fought, still a few stars killed or dying, still some being born anew. But there had not been a true leader for aeons, and without a true leader, no war could begin, or middle, or end. And a Star is born for war. A Star that does not die in war dies in shame. It does not go nova, it merely fizzles out, or becomes a black hole occasionally, if the shame is very great.

Another star approached the first, shedding the cloak of gas that humans had placed on them all with the coming of Science. In this place, the cloak was not needed, nor was it required. This Star was smaller and bluer, burning hot and bright with inner flame, young and enthusiastic. It acknowledged the elder Star, in the way that Stars do, by dimming its light for an instant, or a year, or a hundred years. The elder Star acknowledged the younger, and they waited at the edge of the black hole for other Stars to arrive.

One by one they came, all younger than the first, and all acknowledging it with reverence and respect. The elder merely waited, knowing in the way that Stars do that others like it would come, others who remembered the beginning of things, old friends and allies and enemies. They would reminisce of course, and remember the glory days together. And then, when they were done, they would go back to their places in the great shade of space, and wait for the fog on earth to clear. 

The Horsehead Nebula arrived, shimmering delicately in many colours. She shed the matter of her being, the part that humans had created, and emerged shining and glorious, as she had been so long ago, before the Hubble telescope had photographed her. She was similar to a Star in essence, but instead of being purely white light, she had blues, greens, purples, reds, and oranges in her being. She had always been extraordinarily beautiful the Star remembered, and she, in her own way, had been around as long as it had.

The Nebulae were a mysterious group. They were everywhere, and they had a way of communicating that even the Stars could not figure out. They stunned and bedazzled, and always knew everything before the rest of the Universe. When the great wars had ended and the factions had been created, the Nebulae had agreed to become neutral parties and messengers. Since then they had also taken on the roles of historians, chroniclers, and waystations. They were universal neutral safe areas. It was the greatest taboo to harm one of the Nebulae.

Thus the Star greeted her with respect, and she acknowledged it with a dazzling display of colours. It flashed its appreciation for the beautiful show, and she joined it in waiting for others to arrive. They spoke, in the way that Stars do, about the news she had heard, and about her sisters. They spoke for minutes, or centuries, until every Star and every Nebula had arrived. 

They spoke for years, or seconds, or perhaps even decades, and the younger Stars flirted, or showed off in the way that young Stars do, by showing how bright they could become. The elder Stars watched fondly, remembering their young days, when they had brightened themselves like that. Some of the couples formed back then had lasted even to now, and some of them had even created children. But now these proud old Stars were tired, and they longed only for one last great war so that they might die in flames and glory, as had so many of their comrades of long ago.