“Let there be light in this unending night,” the brothers Pu and Tim prayed. A fervent wish that, together, they whispered into the darkness.

One night, all of a sudden, the moon lit up an otherwise completely black sky.

Stars also appeared, some from as far as the edges of the universe, but they hung like sparkling jewels in the dome of darkness.

At first, both Pu and Tim were alarmed. They had been so used to the darkness of the night that to both of them the sky appeared to be on fire, little fires that, together, formed a conflagration. They held on to each other, keeping their eyes closed, almost squinting through the new light. There was a heaving of collective breath, though in one more than the other of the two brothers it was the equivalent of hyperventilation.

At first, both Pu and Tim were alarmed. They had been so used to the darkness of the night that to both of them the sky appeared to be on fire, little fires that, together, formed a conflagration. They held on to each other, keeping their eyes closed, almost squinting through the new light. There was a heaving of collective breath, though in one more than the other of the two brothers it was the equivalent of hyperventilation.

At first, both Pu and Tim were alarmed. They had been so used to the darkness of the night that to both of them the sky appeared to be on fire, little fires that, together, formed a conflagration. They held on to each other, keeping their eyes closed, almost squinting through the new light. There was a heaving of collective breath, though in one more than the other of the two brothers it was the equivalent of hyperventilation.

In the moonshine, Pu caught a glimpse of the flowering gardens and the color multiplied into myriad hues and shades. Blue wasn’t only blue, it shone like sapphire, it dazzled like lapis lazuli, hard as steel, cold as aquamarine, and as tender as a baby. Red was more than red, it was raging, flowing like blood, sparkling like wine, flushing like crimson, as wicked as scarlet.

“Do not be too trusting,” warned Tim, cowering in the shadows. “These are tricks of light. Do not readily believe what you see.”

To Tim, who kept himself in the shade, the yellow of the moon and the stars wasn’t only yellow, it was like tongues of fire, like molten rock cascading down volcanic slopes, like buttercups ingested, like fool’s gold that was as mesmerizing as it was a fraud. To him, it wasn’t only silver, it was the edge of a knife, the lining in a cloud pregnant with apocalyptic rain, as poisonous as silver salts, the glint of a malevolent smile.

But there was a lure away from the shadows, where Pu, Tim’s brother, had tired of fumbling his way through, suffering bruises caused by colliding into things. Soon, he was dancing in the moonlight, in the starlight, in the skylight, in the light of hope. And the joy of seeing clearly for one like him who had had enough of tracing outlines in the dark had set his heart on fire and so now it was light within as it was light without, and with the sparkle in his eyes, he threw more light everywhere he looked. Never again would he hide the light he had found in a bushel. Not anymore, now that he could see, now that he had emerged from the gloom.

“Too much light, too much light!” cried Tim. If there was such a thing as too much hope, he would call it so. But no such thing. Naivete maybe, or credulity—in fact, stupidity. It was all a mirage, an optical illusion, phantasmagoria even. To Tim, his brother was in danger of coming too close to the fire and burning, burning to death.
But Pu, the dreamer of the two brothers, less accepting of the circumstances under which they had heretofore led their lives, cast the shadows away, like sin. He refused to acknowledge the possibility of doom. “Look at the bright side, walk on the wild side, brother, go where you can see clearly, enough of groping in the dark,” he said, reaching out his hand, his optimism as irresistible as the proverbial apple in the Garden of Eden.
But Tim clung to darkness like a baby in the womb. He would not budge. To him, the darkness was the shade of a tree, a refuge from the scourge of cruel sunshine. It wasn’t because he did not wish to bring to light the most fervent of his dreams, but there was something about this light. The moon glared out of the sky. It glowered at all that used to be. And everything was suddenly out in the open—no more secrets hiding in dark corners, which was good, but some things were best hidden, some words were best unspoken, some truths were best unseen, unheard, unrecognized. He did struggle to get to the light at the end of the tunnel, but here they were, not at the end of the tunnel, but at the end of the world, at the end of everything that used to be. 
To Tim, the stars in the sky were predatory eyes, through which he and his brother, once forever safe in the shadows, out of harm’s away, were now naked prey, helpless as a deer caught in the headlight.
“Rubbish,” said Pu, who unabashedly basked in the moonglow. “Give this light a chance.” He couldn’t understand why his brother could not see what he could, but he was stargazing, he was moongazing, he was tripping the light fantastic, while Tim held the darkness around him
like a cloak.
“But I can see as clearly as you can,” cried Tim.
“Well, then can you see that magical streak glittering on the lake?” challenged Pu.

“I see it, of course,” sighed his brother. “What I’m worried about is that you do not see that among those glittering things are the eyes of a crocodile just waiting for its chance to pounce on you.”
Pu looked around, but he couldn’t see any crocodile close enough. He jumped into the shallows and skipped from stone to stone along the edge of the water. “Look,” he called. “I am among these fireflies or are they stars come down from the sky?” Tim shook his head. “Now, dear brother, you are out in the open and I can see tigers coming your way!”
“Don't be such a sissy,” retorted Pu. “I’ll run as fast as I can and in this light the faster I’ll go.”
“And that's exactly what the wild dogs are saying to each other, referring to how they will chase you.”
And so the two brothers crossed swords and locked horns under the pale light of the moon. Where Pu’s brain lit up like a bulb, Tim’s filled with the smoke of imagined horrors. Where Tim’s eyes opened wide with premonition, Pu’s closed with even more brilliant visions. Where
Pu saw a new dawn, Tim saw the twilight of life as he and his brother knew it.
“Look, my brother, it’s been hours,” pleaded Pu, calling a truce. “And meanwhile the moon has moved across the sky, the light is spreading, and soon this night will be day.”
Tim looked up and the moon shone in his eyes, but readily he shaded his eyes with his hand, afraid the sun would burn them. Hope flickered in his heart but quickly it was drenched by all the dangers he saw emerging from the shadows.
“Come, my brother,” said Pu. “Come into the light.”
But Tim retreated deeper into the shade. “Don’t you see the yellow light? It begs that you slow down. We must tread carefully. Do not be stupid! We have been cursed in this darkness but in this darkness at least we can hide. Here in the shadows we have the best chance to survive.”
“You are a fool! A fool!” cried Pu, at last exasperated. “This curse you put upon us and I will not allow you to keep us any longer in the dark. Come with me, brother, or stay—I no longer care.”
And Pu walked farther and further under the guiding light of the moon and the stars, past all the nocturnal terrors, past the revelations left by the retreating shadows. When he was far enough, to his delight, he found himself at the edge of the night, at daybreak, when the moon and the stars gave way to daylight. Soon, he was walking on sunshine. He looked back, perchance his brother Tim was walking right in his wake, but he knew before he could see that his brother, like the night, was behind him now. A shadow crossed his eyes and he was filled with sorrow that matched his joy at having found the light at the end of the tunnel, an answered prayer that he once dreamed up with his brother.
Never again would he surrender to the darkness.
Never again.
Alas, he knew it also meant that, except maybe briefly, for a few seconds of magic, when day gave way to night in an explosive tug-of-war at sunset or when night turned to day and uncloaked the bright blue sky at sunrise, he would never see his brother Tim again.