There were no windows in his room. None in the entire apartment, save one in the living room, right next to the front door. It would look out over the rest of the city- the tall buildings, the splashes of green parks, the smaller shops, everything- except for the thick, black-out curtains that covered it. The officials claimed it was so the Nocturns could sleep during the daylight hours.
Nox knew that wasn't true. He had seen the day, just once, and not legally. It was three years before, when he was fourteen. He had stayed up late into the day studying, then had gone to get a drink before going to bed. He had left all the lights off to avoid waking up his family, and he tripped in the pitch black near the window. He flung out his arms wildly, reaching for something to break his fall. Nothing did, but he did snag a corner of the curtain. The nail holding it in wiggled out of place, letting in the tiniest beam of sunlight. Nox was mystified by it- could anything be that bright? He crawled forward toward it, wanting to peek through, to see more, but before he could his father- woken by the sound of his son's fall- closed the hole before he could. "You'll never sleep with that light," he had said kindly as he drove the nail back into the wall.
But he was mistaken. It wasn't the light that kept Nox awake for days afterward, but the lack of it. He wanted to see more, to know about the sun, that light that was more beautiful than any electric one he had ever seen.
He knew the curtain wasn't so they could sleep. It was so they would never long for the beauty outside, never know it existed. Nox knew, because he longed for it, and it drove him to distraction. It was always on his mind. He's spent years staring at the drab, run-down wall of his bedroom, wondering about it, wanting it, wishing for it.
He dreaded the first glow of purple in the sky each morning, and yet he couldn't wait. It was the closest thing he had to the sun, but it also meant being shut up in his house until night came again.
His teachers called him lazy. His father called him foolish. His mother called him a dreamer. His sister called him stupid. The officials called him a problem. They started following him to make sure he got home before dawn lit up the sky. THey tried to convince him that being a Nocturn was better than a Dayern, and sometimes he almost believed them. Almost. But then he remembered that ray of light, and he knew that that was what he wanted, and that if he listened to the officials he would never get it. So he continued living in the dark, and wishing for the sun.
****************************
Sunlight trickled through the leaves, leaving bright patches on the page of Diem's book. He leaned back and smiled, his face in the light. He loved the day. Some of his friends wished they were Nocturns, but he didn't. The officials didn't make things any better. As soon as one of Diem's friends began to wonder if night would be better than day, the officials would show up and offer to make them a Nocturn. Sometimes Diem was able to dissuade the friend and keep them in the day. Other times they would go, and Diem would never see them again.
But they never tempted Diem. They offered to take him too, of course, but he never went. He loved being a Dayern too much: Being out in the warmth and light, being able to see the world around him, and just the joy of the day kept him from ever thinking night was better.
Dusk was about to fall, so Diem put his book in his bag and started toward home. Down one crowded street, then another. Even with the tall buildings all around him filled with Nocturns who couldn't come out until night, there were still so many people. He was walking through a city park, nearly to his own apartment, when a voice stopped him. He turned, looking to see who had said his name. His eyes fell on an old man when he said his name again. He sat on a bench, his hands were curved around a walking stick, the skin on them was wrinkled and blotched with age. Smile lines nearly hid his eyes, and his thin mouth had a small grin on it as he spoke.
"Diem," the man said, "There is a Nocturn who needs you. Wait here on this bench for him. I am tired and must go home and sleep. You wait for him here, and care for him." The man then stood and hobbled away, leaning heavily on his walking stick and taking small, uneven steps. Diem watched him go, confused. Who was he? And what could a Nocturn need of him? All the same, he sat down on the bench and waited.
The sky darkened from orange, to red, to purple. Diem didn't realize the sky ever was that color. The breeze turned chill as night set in, and he shivered. Where was the Nocturn? Artificial lights, trying to imitate the sun but really were pathetic in comparison, turned on in street lamps around him. The weird, ruddy light cast strange shadows that sent shivers up his spine. Nocturns came out of their apartments, stretching and breathing in the fresh outside air before they left to go to work or school, just like the Dayerns did during the day. Before too long, the streets seemed even more crowded than they did when Diem was on his way home.
Diem had about decided to give up and go home when something caught his eye. A around his own age was coming toward him, weaving along the path through the park. He was alone, and he looked distracted. The boy was pale, almost translucent, sick-looking, and skinny; Diem didn't realize anyone could look like that. But, without being in the sun everyday, it made sense. The boy was heading straight toward the bench, and Diem sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat.
The boy stopped. He looked at Diem, who realized that, just as the paleness of this boy was strange to him, his tan skin and healthy complexion must seem completely foreign to the boy. There was a look of puzzled disbelief on the boy's face. "Who are you?" he asked. Diem anwered with his name. "You're not a Nocturn, are you?" Diem shook his head. A look of wonder spread over the boy's face. "A Dayern?" Diem nodded. The boy sat down beside him. "My name's Nox," he said, "Tell me about the sun."
That was it. Diem understood now what he could do for Nox, this boy who had grown up with no real light, no sun, no knowledge of the joy could bring. "I can show you," Diem said, and led Nox into his apartment.
Daylight couldn't come fast enough for Nox. To pass the hours, Diem told him all about light, day, what to expect, what to do, and about the wonders of the sun. Near dawn, Diem fell asleep. Nox sat by the black-out curtained window, waiting, waiting.
Finally, morning came. Diem opened the door, and Nox burst outside. The sky was just turning from purple to orange, growing brighter every minute. He stood there in wonder as the sun peeked over the horizon, the first rays piercing the dark, just as they had in his living room years before.
Diem watched the look of pure joy on Nox's face with a swelling in his own heart. "You know," he said quietly, "Some Dayerns choose to be Nocturns."
Nox turned to him in disbelief, the rising sun putting the first color into his cheeks as he asked, "Who would ever give this up?"
We are blessed to have the gospel in our lives. We are lucky to have "light" and the "Son" to show us where to go and how to live. Others don't have that. We need to be willing to help others have the joy that we have, to let the light finally come into their lives.
No comments:
Post a Comment