⏱ ~6 min reading
At the very top of a green hill, in the middle of an apple orchard, stood a small tower made of white stone. At the very top of the tower was a window with a round frame, like a ship's porthole. And behind the window was the sorcerer's room. His name was Moon. And he loved the silence of the night more than anything else in the world.
The moon was a kind, quiet, and slightly eccentric wizard. During the day he slept deeply, like at home, with a blanket up to his nose. And at night, when the sun was hiding behind the forest and the sky was turning dark blue, he would wake up, make himself tea with linden blossom, sit by the window, and listen to the night. He liked the way the crickets chirped, the brook gurgled under the hill, the wind whispering in the apple trees.
And above all he loved the moonlight. It lay gently on the floor in a long silver stripe. It painted the walls in mother-of-pearl. It shimmered softly on the bronze cauldron, on the bottles of potion, on the fur of the old black cat Murik, who was dozing on the rug.
"Nice," muttered Misiatsko and smiled into his beard.
But one summer night something happened. The moon turned out to be full. Very full. Simply huge - round, full, golden. And it shone so brightly that it became as bright as day in the wizard's room.
The little moon went to bed. He closed his eyes. He lay down. He turned over. He pulled the blanket over his head. He lay down some more. He got out of the blanket. He looked out the window.
The moon hung directly opposite and shone right into his eyes.
"What is this!" said the Moon indignantly. "How can I sleep here?"
He stood up, threw a robe with stars over his shoulders, went to the window, opened it wide, and shook it with his wand.
"Be quiet for the night!" he shouted to the Moon. "Don't shine so brightly! You're too much! I can't even close my eyes because of you!"
The cat Murik raised his head, looked at his master, and wagged his tail reproachfully. He was sleeping soundly.
The moon was not offended. He was wise, old, and had seen everything over the centuries. He only smiled—as gently as he could.
"Good evening, Moon," he replied in a quiet, warm voice, as if from behind a distant mountain. "What are you angry about?"
"Oh, that!" the wizard grumbled. "You're shining like a shop. Close your eyes. Cover your face. Go behind a cloud or something.".
"I can't do it any other way," said the Moon calmly. "This is my job, my friend. I shine for everyone.".
"For everyone?" snorted the Moon. "And why am I not 'everyone'?"
The moon was silent. And then he said quietly:
"And look down. Wait a minute. See?"
The little moon reluctantly stuck its head out of the window. He looked. In the valley lay a large village. Only a few small windows were lit in it - where mothers laid their children. And along the road leading from the forest, a small figure with a bundle on its shoulder was walking slowly. A child. She limped a little, hurried and from time to time raised her head - to look at the moon and not to stray from the path.
Then the little moon saw a fishing boat on the lake - the fisherman was returning with his catch, and the moon lay in a silver path all the way to the shore. He saw a mother with a baby by the cradle - she was rocking him, looking out the window, because only the moonlight shone through it. He saw a watchman in the field, who was on duty on a strange night in advance - and the moon kept him company.
The moon looked for a long time.
Something quietly tightened in his chest.
"If I am silent," the Moon repeated gently, "how will they find their way? How will that mother put her little son to bed? How will the fisherman land on the shore? I cannot, my friend. I must shine.".
Little Moon slowly lowered his wand. He felt ashamed. He stepped back from the window, sat on the stool, and rubbed his beard.
«"Oh my," he thought, "what millions of customers he has. And here I am with my one dream.".
He sat there for a while. The black cat Murik came up and rubbed against his legs, as if to say: "Well, master, have you recovered?"«
"I'm recovered, Murik, I'm recovered," Misyatsko grumbled and stood up.
He went to the shelf with the potions. He took down an old bronze cauldron. He poured star water into it, threw in a handful of night silk, a poppy bud, a night bird feather. He twirled his wand. He whispered a short incantation—a homely one that every old witch knew. And from the cauldron rose above the table a large, soft, black hat. Velvet. With sound-absorbing brims. Just the right size to cover his eyes and a little bit of his cheeks.
The moon put it on. The light immediately disappeared - it became quiet and cool inside the hat, like in a hollow.
He went to the window, lifted the brim of his hat, and looked out.
"Moon!" he called. "I figured it out. You keep shining. I'll just sleep in my hat. That's fair. It's my job to adapt.".
The moon shone even warmer.
"Thank you, my friend," he said quietly. "Thank you for finding a solution for yourself. Instead of fighting me, you changed your approach. That's wise. That's magical.".
The moon shrugged, stroked his beard, and smiled awkwardly.
"What wisdom is there? I just... thought. You wouldn't make the whole world dark for my dream. And the hat is here. It's lying there, waiting to be enchanted.".
The moon laughed softly - a silvery laugh like water on pebbles. And the little moon went to bed, wrapped himself in a blanket, pulled his hat over his eyes. In the darkness under the hat there was a smell of velvet, night poppies and peaceful sleep. He closed his eyes and in two minutes he was asleep - deeply, peacefully, as he had not slept for a long time.
From that day on, Little Moon never quarreled with the Moon again. Moreover, every evening, before going to bed, he would go to the window, nod to his friend, and say:
"Light up as you please. I'm here with a hat.".
And the Moon nodded in response.
The cat Murik thought that the owner had finally come to his senses. And the little moon himself understood a simple thing - one that sometimes many witchcraft books will not give. Not all things are worth getting angry at. Some simply are - like the moon, like the wind, like the rain. You can't change them. But you can change yourself. Put up shutters. Take an umbrella. Conjure a hat.
And then everything becomes easier. The world is warmer. Sleep is deeper. And the moonlit night is quiet and its own, even if it shines like a big golden pancake in the sky.
✨ Not everything is worth being angry about - sometimes you need to change yourself, not the world ✨