Solstice Night (Story by J. Sabatini)

Joshua Sabatini was born in Hartford, Connecticut. In October 2002, he moved to San Francisco, California. He’s currently on retreat in Katama, Massachusetts. His 2023 published writings include “Jack and the Trumpet” in Rock Salt Journal and “The Horseshoe Crab’s Supplication” in Gabby and Min’s Literary Review. In 2024, his poem “Quansoo” was published by Local Gems Press in the Massachusetts Bards Poetry Anthology. Also in 2024, he published “Cosmic Harmonies,” a collection of 49 haiku.

J. Sabatini had work featured recently in In Parentheses Literary Magazine (Fall 2024).

Solstice Night

The moonlight oozed over the wood, dripping off its edges. When he reached the end, he removed his clothes and stood there about to jump in.
“Drink some of the mead first. It’s very tasty,” Ada said, treading gently in the bay water.
Beetle bent down, picked up the mason jar she left behind on the last dock plank by her pile of clothes, and smelled the liquid, an aromatic cornucopia of wildflowers on a meadow stretching far and wide. In his enthusiasm, he sharply tilted the glass held up to his lips; the liquid raced in. His mood instantly altered: his body relaxed, his mind eased, his spirits became joyful.
“Finish it off. I’ve had all I want,” Ada said, thinking Beetle’s thoughtfulness would prevent him from leaving it empty.
Beetle placed the emptied jar upon the plank next to her T-shirt and shorts, seeming like religious attire worn for spiritual purposes in rituals requiring the hitting of specific marks to ensure the desired outcomes – for all the work that went into them. He jumped into the water, and the contrast of its temperature to the air’s fired a shot of vigor into him that blended with the effects of the mead. He burst through the surface and shook his head around, his gray and brown floppy hair flinging the water about. He floated on his back, looking up at the night sky, identifying the stars that shone despite the moon’s brightness, but he was soon drawn to the moon.
The moon’s presence was felt in all ways, the great influence of her illumination, the ancient queen of the night, who had seen generations come and go since the very beginning, full of wisdom for that alone, and for many other reasons possessing even greater wisdom, which Beetle felt was accessible to him if he looked upon her, and actually wanted it.
“The strawberry solstice moon is so huge and beautiful. Do you want to swim out to the raft?” Ada asked.
Beetle looked into the distance, and spotted the square surface about 50 yards away. He agreed to it. They swam and halfway there stopped to just float and talk, all happy in the moment, as if there was nothing else in the world and they would forever live as they were, having emerged from out of the complexities as eternal essences, cradled in the arms of the Mother of the Night, fed and nurtured.
“How is the Chinese novel?” Ada asked. “The Story of the Stone.”
The great work came alive to him, all he had read up to that point, the animated characters swimming through the depths of his being; the characters would come to life so long as there was a reader to know them and the work was in existence, as long as that lasted they’d live – maybe they’d even live beyond all that as well.
“It is good,” Beetle said, unable to say more.
He hoped within the “good” was all that was behind it, and she had the ability to know what was there. He thought he could live with Ada in the interplay between poetry and the natural world. And that together they could draw upon the strong emotions inside each other, cultivate their minds to strengthen their spiritual lives to grow like fruit trees bear fruit, eat healthy diets to aid them in various pursuits of the riches of just being alive, – he thought of the mead as being in this category and that this envisioned life between them may have already gotten underway, even though it was just their second time hanging out – engage in habits and rituals exemplifying the creative life, thank their creator and all that was inside and outside themselves looking out for them at pivotal and not so pivotal moments, build a special fire of their love, preserve it eternally, full of warmth and guidance for themselves and all others lost or in need of support along the way, follow the destiny of developing an aesthetic with meteoric brilliance to enliven the generation, bringing a freshness, a growth, a new life upon the scene, all in accordance with the singular purpose of reconnecting with the source from the remotest ripples on through.
“I’ll read it aloud to you. I think you’ll enjoy it,” Beetle said.
He put off explaining the work, not the proper time for it. He was an adherent of what was proper in any moment spelled out by an invisible spirit. Beetle would release himself from the other possibilities, converging upon him in a desire to come to be just like that one proper possibility ended up being; he had to dismiss them like warding off evil spirits to ensure the integrity of the moment remained intact and to ensure the moment moved into the next moment like a string of pearls, each pearl ever expanding in circumference the more the graceful moment-to-moment movement was sustained.
Sustain me for I wish to live on you alone.
He had a secret thought that if she agreed to him reading it aloud to her, she’d become entranced by the work and wish to hear it all; since there were five volumes she’d remain with him for the long time it would take.
“I have the perfect room for reading in,” Ada said.
The commitment seized them both, a strange force gripping them. They looked into each others’ eyes and experienced an intolerable sense of a separation of parts, compelling them to move closer until they were touching, until their lips pressed against each others’, until their mouths opened and their tongues swirled around inside of their mouths, parts becoming whole. The effort to remain buoyant and kiss lasted for only a short while, but when they separated to swim on they felt in possession of some reward for some triumph. When they reached the raft, they intertwined in the center aglow in the moonlight and became whole once more – even more.

From the Editor:

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