H
Hiro wanted the moon. He didn't want to conquer it. He wanted to put it in a jar.
He was a fisherman, but he fished for reflections. He sat by the pond every night, waiting for the water to be perfectly still.
"It's just light, you fool," the other villagers said.
Hiro ignored them. He wove a net of spider silk and dew. It was delicate enough to catch a shadow.
One night, the moon was full and bright. The pond was a mirror. Hiro cast his net. It landed softly on the water, surrounding the white orb.
"Gotcha," he whispered.
He pulled. The net grew heavy. It wasn't water he was hauling up. It was light. Solid, liquid light.
He dumped the catch into a large glass jar. The pond went dark. The reflection was gone.
But when he looked up, the sky was dark too. The moon was missing.
"Uh oh," Hiro said.
The tides stopped. The wolves stopped howling. The night was too black.
A voice boomed from the jar. "Let me out! It's cramped in here!"
"You're the actual moon?" Hiro asked, terrified.
"I am the Spirit of the Moon! And I have a very busy schedule! Do you know how hard it is to coordinate high tide?"
Hiro felt terrible. "I just... I wanted something beautiful."
"Beauty isn't meant to be owned," the Moon scolded. "It's meant to be shared. Now, open the lid!"
Hiro opened the jar. The light shot out, a pillar of silver fire. It returned to the sky. The reflection returned to the pond.
Hiro sat back. He didn't have the moon. But as he looked at the water, he saw his own reflection smiling back. And that was enough.