Short story: Starlit Rays
"In our world," said Eustace, "a star is a huge ball of flaming gas."
"Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of."
- CS Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
Once upon a time, far away in the deep oceans of the sky, schools of strange fish gathered unseen by human eyes.
They were large and flat, with kite-shaped bodies like the giant manta rays that lurk in our own oceans. Their shining scales were as black as deepest night, sprinkled with tiny, blue and yellow and red dots that glitter when the slightest light touches them. They sang to each other with voices of light, spreading news or finding family and friends by following the songs. When they rested, they faded into the space around them, a silent patch of night, complete with twinkling stars.
These star rays lived among three sister stars that orbited each other. Each star was trailed by its children, planets of various sizes and types. The rays grazed the sighs and roils that slipped away from the planets most of the time, clustering around turbulent spots like a school of fish gathering around a rich section of reef. Most of the time, the schools were content with the wisps from the planets, but sometimes, the star itself would throw off great arms of flame as it turned. Then many schools would gather around the star, drinking the heady gasses and fattening themselves on the brilliant blaze until the star tired and settled in for a long sleep.
The grazing was not very good around a sleepy star, so the great school would set out to visit one of the two sister stars nearby. Only the very oldest would stay behind, no longer able to store up the vast reserves needed to sail the wide, empty places between the three stars. Without all the extra mouths, the older rays would find enough to get by in peaceful retirement.
The rest soared through the planets, stopping long enough to fatten up again on the comets at the far edge, then out and away on the long trek for the next star.
Scyne was a young star ray. She was a quiet but curious child, often stopping to play with the moon dust around the larger planets or chasing meteors because they tasted funny. This was her first trip across the empty dark between the stars, and there wasn't much for her to do out here. The songs and cries of her family filled the great dark, but a comet, far away from all the other planets and comets, caught her attention. She chased after it.
It was a pretty quick comet, a runaway zooming between the stars to who knows where. By the time Scyne managed to catch up to it and taste what little it shed, she was a very long way away from her family. The songs that had surrounded her all her life were faint as an echo.
In a panic, the little star ray immediately turned around and began swimming as fast as she could. But when she stopped to listen again, she couldn't even hear the faint sounds from before. She had gone the wrong way.
She yelled as loud as she could. Nobody came. She cried for a while, mourning how lost and alone she was. Eventually, she found she couldn't cry anymore, and just got quiet. Scyne floated, silent and numb, alone in the empty dark.
And slowly, there all alone, Scyne realized that somebody was singing. It wasn't like the songs the star rays sang. It was sweeter, and purer, and much, much quieter. She strained to hear, and discovered as she listened that there were many voices, all in harmony together, singing of the great dance of the universe. Most of them were far, far away, too far for more than an impression of the vast tapestry of song, but three of the voices were louder than the rest. They had their own melody within the song, and sang of their place in the dance with their own little pattern of steps.
It seemed to Scyne that she knew those voices, even if she hadn't noticed them before. Their song was woven into her life somehow, and she puzzled over it as she listened, not daring to move as she tried to hear enough to know what it all meant. Where had she heard it before? Why couldn't she understand it now?
She chased the thought like a stray meteor. Some meteors tasted like the planets, but sometimes it took her a while to figure out which one. The song was like something in her memory, so she did the same thing with it as she did with the taste of funny meteors, trying to remember all the things she had ever heard.
Scyne found the answer in a roar of flame. It was the stars! The song she heard now, so quiet and far away, was in the blaze of fire that had fed her and her family. And that voice was just one of three voices she heard singing together, and those sisters just one trio in an innumerable choir of dancing, playing stars. The vastness of it struck her to the soul. The dark was not empty; it was alive with voices.
She was not alone. She had never been alone. The stars had been there all along.
And now, as Scyne listened with better understanding, she could tell the three sisters apart. The one with the most familiar voice sang drowsily, half-asleep. That was the one that she and her family had left. One of them was quieter than the others, too far for the kind of journey the star rays were taking. That left one voice to follow. Thrilled with her discovery, Scyne sped for the remaining star. She sang a little bit, because she was happy, but she spent most of the time in silence, to drink in the chorus around her.
She had been very lost, but the little star ray was headed in the right direction, now. She swam even in her sleep, and after a long trip in the great gulf she heard, faintly, the familiar sounds of the great school of star rays.
Scyne was wiser this time. Instead of racing straight in what might have been the wrong direction, she kept to the path that she knew was right. It wasn’t long before the songs of the school were clear and close and she could follow them properly. Soon, she was back among the other star rays, who greeted her with surprise.
"Who is this child, with such a clear voice?" they asked. "How did you learn to sing so lovely?"
She told them, "It's me! It's Scyne!"
Her mother heard Scyne's name in the exclamations and found her, and they cuddled together, the familiar tastes mingling.
"It's true," her mother said. "It's little Scyne, my dearest. Where have you been?"
And she told them how she had been lost, and how the stars had sung to her and guided her back. Some of them couldn't understand it at all, but others murmured wise notes to each other.
They marked how Scyne had changed. Her voice was clear and pure, and she knew things because she listened so carefully. Many years later, when the star rays set off on their next journey through the long dark, Scyne led them across the dark between the singing stars.
----
For haikujaguar, who likes rays.
If you liked the story, or thought I could have done better, please comment! I'm thinking I might ask meeksp to draw a sketch from this story. Is there a scene you think would be striking or lovely?
"Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of."
- CS Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
Once upon a time, far away in the deep oceans of the sky, schools of strange fish gathered unseen by human eyes.
They were large and flat, with kite-shaped bodies like the giant manta rays that lurk in our own oceans. Their shining scales were as black as deepest night, sprinkled with tiny, blue and yellow and red dots that glitter when the slightest light touches them. They sang to each other with voices of light, spreading news or finding family and friends by following the songs. When they rested, they faded into the space around them, a silent patch of night, complete with twinkling stars.
These star rays lived among three sister stars that orbited each other. Each star was trailed by its children, planets of various sizes and types. The rays grazed the sighs and roils that slipped away from the planets most of the time, clustering around turbulent spots like a school of fish gathering around a rich section of reef. Most of the time, the schools were content with the wisps from the planets, but sometimes, the star itself would throw off great arms of flame as it turned. Then many schools would gather around the star, drinking the heady gasses and fattening themselves on the brilliant blaze until the star tired and settled in for a long sleep.
The grazing was not very good around a sleepy star, so the great school would set out to visit one of the two sister stars nearby. Only the very oldest would stay behind, no longer able to store up the vast reserves needed to sail the wide, empty places between the three stars. Without all the extra mouths, the older rays would find enough to get by in peaceful retirement.
The rest soared through the planets, stopping long enough to fatten up again on the comets at the far edge, then out and away on the long trek for the next star.
Scyne was a young star ray. She was a quiet but curious child, often stopping to play with the moon dust around the larger planets or chasing meteors because they tasted funny. This was her first trip across the empty dark between the stars, and there wasn't much for her to do out here. The songs and cries of her family filled the great dark, but a comet, far away from all the other planets and comets, caught her attention. She chased after it.
It was a pretty quick comet, a runaway zooming between the stars to who knows where. By the time Scyne managed to catch up to it and taste what little it shed, she was a very long way away from her family. The songs that had surrounded her all her life were faint as an echo.
In a panic, the little star ray immediately turned around and began swimming as fast as she could. But when she stopped to listen again, she couldn't even hear the faint sounds from before. She had gone the wrong way.
She yelled as loud as she could. Nobody came. She cried for a while, mourning how lost and alone she was. Eventually, she found she couldn't cry anymore, and just got quiet. Scyne floated, silent and numb, alone in the empty dark.
And slowly, there all alone, Scyne realized that somebody was singing. It wasn't like the songs the star rays sang. It was sweeter, and purer, and much, much quieter. She strained to hear, and discovered as she listened that there were many voices, all in harmony together, singing of the great dance of the universe. Most of them were far, far away, too far for more than an impression of the vast tapestry of song, but three of the voices were louder than the rest. They had their own melody within the song, and sang of their place in the dance with their own little pattern of steps.
It seemed to Scyne that she knew those voices, even if she hadn't noticed them before. Their song was woven into her life somehow, and she puzzled over it as she listened, not daring to move as she tried to hear enough to know what it all meant. Where had she heard it before? Why couldn't she understand it now?
She chased the thought like a stray meteor. Some meteors tasted like the planets, but sometimes it took her a while to figure out which one. The song was like something in her memory, so she did the same thing with it as she did with the taste of funny meteors, trying to remember all the things she had ever heard.
Scyne found the answer in a roar of flame. It was the stars! The song she heard now, so quiet and far away, was in the blaze of fire that had fed her and her family. And that voice was just one of three voices she heard singing together, and those sisters just one trio in an innumerable choir of dancing, playing stars. The vastness of it struck her to the soul. The dark was not empty; it was alive with voices.
She was not alone. She had never been alone. The stars had been there all along.
And now, as Scyne listened with better understanding, she could tell the three sisters apart. The one with the most familiar voice sang drowsily, half-asleep. That was the one that she and her family had left. One of them was quieter than the others, too far for the kind of journey the star rays were taking. That left one voice to follow. Thrilled with her discovery, Scyne sped for the remaining star. She sang a little bit, because she was happy, but she spent most of the time in silence, to drink in the chorus around her.
She had been very lost, but the little star ray was headed in the right direction, now. She swam even in her sleep, and after a long trip in the great gulf she heard, faintly, the familiar sounds of the great school of star rays.
Scyne was wiser this time. Instead of racing straight in what might have been the wrong direction, she kept to the path that she knew was right. It wasn’t long before the songs of the school were clear and close and she could follow them properly. Soon, she was back among the other star rays, who greeted her with surprise.
"Who is this child, with such a clear voice?" they asked. "How did you learn to sing so lovely?"
She told them, "It's me! It's Scyne!"
Her mother heard Scyne's name in the exclamations and found her, and they cuddled together, the familiar tastes mingling.
"It's true," her mother said. "It's little Scyne, my dearest. Where have you been?"
And she told them how she had been lost, and how the stars had sung to her and guided her back. Some of them couldn't understand it at all, but others murmured wise notes to each other.
They marked how Scyne had changed. Her voice was clear and pure, and she knew things because she listened so carefully. Many years later, when the star rays set off on their next journey through the long dark, Scyne led them across the dark between the singing stars.
----
For haikujaguar, who likes rays.
If you liked the story, or thought I could have done better, please comment! I'm thinking I might ask meeksp to draw a sketch from this story. Is there a scene you think would be striking or lovely?