Easter Moon

In the middle of the aisle, there was a white rabbit. It stared me down, its beady little pink eyes imparting on me a mix of disgust, judgment and coercion. They were transfixed and unblinking, and I couldn’t help but feel just a little silly with how it bothered me.

The rabbit in question was part of a cardboard candy stand that housed many small, tinfoil-wrapped eggs. Blown up in an emboldened comic sans near its fluffy neck-puff was a passive-aggressive, condescending slogan, ‘nobunny knows Easter like Cadbury!’ The nerve. The very idea that this little cardboard animal knew more about a catholic religious excuse to paint eggs and eat candy than I did was enough to incite me, and I felt I had no recourse but to walk right over and pick up a chocolate candy egg and buy it. That’ll show the smug little bunny.

It was a rare occasion in my backwater little town when the sun dare show its face in the sky. It was still half-hidden behind a blanket of white clouds, yet even half a ray of sunshine was enough warmth to dry up the post-winter downpour of nights before. For the first time in a long while, I wouldn’t be dripping with the moon’s tears when I walked in my door.

In the bed in the middle of the room lie a familiar shape. Little ears poking out of the blankets, darting around like antennae, searching for signs of intruders. As soon as I shut the door behind me, however, the sonar system in the bed had picked me up, and had activated emergency waking mode.

“Oh… good morn-ning…!” A small, light-haired person rose slowly from the blankets and set her violet eyes on me. It’s not so strange for me to refer to her as a person, but someone else might think it odd, if they got a good look at her long, thin, fluffy white ears. They fluttered about as she addressed me, as if finding feeling among the air and rousing to waking. Eventually, once her eyes had brightened and she was standing, they fell lazily to rest atop her head.

“Hey.” I sat down in my creaking chair next to the counter and took the plastic shopping bag out of my jacket. The rabbit-girl came before me, her nose subtly twitching with curiosity.

“Did you go? Somewhere?” She asked, ears perking.

“Just went to buy a couple things.” I pulled the usual coffee can from the bag and set it on the counter, then I took out the tinfoil-wrapped chocolate and showed it to her. “I thought you might like this.”

“What, what is it?” She held out her hands and I dropped it into her palms. She rolled it around amongst her fingers and took in its texture, eventually puzzling out that the colorful packaging needed removing. She meticulously pulled at one of the loose edges and removed it little by little, revealing the oval chocolate confection.

“Oh. It is, ah, can-dy,” she said, sniffing it.

“Take a bite,” I told her, “there’s a surprise inside.” Her ears crooked to me inquisitively, as if trying to form a question mark shape. Without much hesitation, she sunk her teeth into the chocolate confection and pulled away with a sizable chunk of it, chewing reservedly—and her eyes opened wide.

“This! This fill-ling...” She exclaimed, her mouth full of chocolate. Looking down at the egg, she found the inside to be filled with a white and yellow cream filling, resembling that of an egg white and yolk. Just tastes like sugar, though, I’m sure.

“Yeah, it’s like an egg.” I said from the mouthpiece of my coffee can. “I thought of you when I saw the little bunny that lays them at the store.”

“Lay…? Rabbits do not—do not lay eggs.” She gave me that familiar look of perplexity, but had not stopped eating the chocolate.

“At Easter, they do,” I smirked at her. “Little bunnies hide in the grass and lay colored eggs for people to find, filled with candy.” The questions were boiling over in her head as she become confused. She gave me a troubled look.

“But! Eggs…? I cannot lay any, ah, eggs...” She gazed down at her body, which was largely covered by a white button-up shirt I had given her to wear, her legs bare as she had forgotten to dress herself after getting out of bed.

“Ah!” She squeaked in alarm, quickly turning red as she scurried into the bathroom to dress herself.

When she returned, her wild hair had been tamed into its usual tied twintails, and she had adorned herself with her white skirt, her hooded jacket, a pair of my long socks and her denim-color sneakers. Though it took her an eternity each time, she emerged from my filthy bathroom looking like a dainty flower grown from a pot of dirt.

“Ahm,” she began, her hands together at her waist, “what is Easter?”

“Oh, well,” I scratched the back of my head, trying to think of a way out of explaining the awkward practices of Christian holidays and how rabbits had become related to the concept of hidden eggs that bear treasure inside. “It’s a time when, err… When rabbits become really popular on earth, I guess.”

“Real? Ah—really?” Her bright eyes hid briefly behind her long, silver eyelashes as she blinked in wonder at me. The idea of humans liking the company of rabbits was probably not something she thought was possible.

“Yeah. And, so, uh, we make these baskets with food—and rabbit eggs—and we share them, in celebration of humans and rabbits coming together.”

“If, if that is so… Then why do earth rabbits not live openly? With, ah, with humans?” She touched her forefinger to her lips in thought. Shit, she’s right.

“Err, well, it’s because humans think rabbits are animals… like, fluffy animals that live underground. Rabbits like you—they’re sort of like a fairy tale to them.” I never was very good at lying. If I kept going on like this, I’d end up with a story much more contrived than the one about a bearded arab who came back to life after some Romans killed him.

“I am no fairy,” she said, and outstretched her ears. “I am Luminous, the Lunar Emissary.” She looked oddly proud of herself, puffing out her chest a little. I kept my covetous hands to myself as she did so, redirecting my mind to the door.

“I think I know a way to show you. Come with me,” I outstretched my hand to her, the other reaching for the door. She timidly placed her long, thin fingers in my palm and followed after me as I turned the knob and guided her out. A light drizzle had come to accompany the sun, so I pointed to her head and she complied by covering her ears with her hood.

It had been many years since I had attended an Easter celebration at a church. I figured there wouldn’t be a better place for Lumi to see what it meant to people with her own eyes than an official gathering for it, and there were certainly plenty of places in town to do so. In fact, I wasn’t sure which one to attend, not being particularly bent to any specific branch. The Seventh-day Adventists had likely already had their Easter celebration the previous day—on Saturday—so I’d have to go someplace else.

***

“Easter? To think thy crux of thine earthly faith should’st lead thee to mine doorstep. A funny thing, t’would be, were it not so queer.” The exiled Lunarian laughed plainly in my face from her carpeted threshold, beyond the wide double-doors of the Church Mouse Gallery. Her loose, blonde bun bounced to match her chuckling.

“Right, I forgot you’re an ancient, evil alien who sneers down her nose at lowly human beings like myself. I just thought you might have gotten Ethel to lay some eggs.” I said, plainly. Beatrix was her name, and seeing her for anything religious was probably not a wise decision—but I still had reservations about taking Lumi to any public place, where many people might see her funny ears and kaleidoscope eyes.

“Ethel doth lie in a bed of whimsy and foolishness, but none so deeply she had a mind to lay an egg.” She wrapped a finger in one of her blonde curls as she spoke. “Verily, thy head seems to crack like that of an egg, should’st thee believe such a thing.”

“So you guys don’t celebrate Easter. I probably should have known better.” I rolled my eyes at her, but she was so old – and probably so senile – that she likely didn’t know rabbits ‘laid eggs’ during Easter.

“Oh, hello, Lady Emissary,” a calm and youthful voice called from behind Beatrix. A young woman in a servant’s dress with long brown locks that flow down her back stood aside the Lunarian and gave a polite bow—and her hair tumbled over her shoulders to reveal that it was, in fact, not hair at all, but very long lop rabbit ears. She rose and smiled at Lumi, looking glad to see her again.

“In truth,” the servant rabbit began, “I had proposed the idea of painting eggs to my Lady Beatrix, but she thought it a silly waste of time. ‘Why should a rabbit be concerned with the contrived rituals of humans,’ she said. Far be it from me to inquire upon a ritual that involves my kind, of course.”

“Be they your kind, dear Ethel? The rabbits seen in human eyes are not they with human forms. Nay, they bethinks you a furry animal bred for thy meat and thy feet.” Beatrix reached out and took Ethel’s long ear between her thumb and forefinger. “Though I am loathe to admit, I have many times borne the thought of the fine leather belt that might be fashioned from thine ear...”

Ethel merely tilted her head to the side and gently tugged her long appendage out of her master’s clutches, who chuckled into the back of her hand. The lop rabbit maidservant took a dainty stance in front of us, feet together, and looked to Lumi.

“Emissary. Perhaps I am being presumptuous, but you are interested in Easter too, are you not?” She asked warmly, giving a slight smile.

“I, ah—I wanted to, to know. During Easter… do earth rabbits really lay… lay eggs?” Lumi timidly repeated what I had told her, turning pink.

“Lay eggs?” Ethel’s eyes widened in confusion, and she looked at me to see the dumb smile on my face, which she returned with a reserved giggle. “Oh, I see! Yes, it’s true, Lady Emissary. In fact, I was planning on laying a whole batch today. Would you like to join me?”

“Ahm! I do not know if, if…!” Lumi protested, even as Ethel took her by the hand and lead her into the building. The sound of Lumi squirming and squeaking could be heard all the way down the hall.

“Oh, fie. The trivialities of little hares, dug into earthly holes. Prithee, spare me your pagan rituals...” Beatrix waltzed back inside, nearly shutting the door before she realized I was still standing there. “Methinks you await some invitation? Pray, come inside afore I lose what graces of hospitality I can bear to muster.”

The Lunarian hostess showed me to the dining room, with its mahogany table and rainy window that overlooked the dilapidated houses nearby. The table had been decorated with a few new books, such glowing titles as 'Alice and the Machina Mirror,' the cover bearing some young girl in a trance staring at a computer screen. Some social commentary, I imagine. There was also 'And I Don’t Have a Gun: How One Woman Changed the Music Industry Forever.' I wouldn’t have figured Beatrix would be interested in human celebrities. Maybe she just likes the cover illustration—it’s a shotgun lying on a table covered in heroine.

“Careful, Emissary. We shall need each and every one of those eggs,” I heard Ethel say from down the hall. Lumi soon came shuffling past the dining room door, dressed in a white apron, holding a basket full of white eggs. Ethel followed closely behind, her arms loaded with painting utensils.

Beatrix’s lids strained as she glared at me, her glowing, ice cold irises intensifying with malice.

“Now listen here, boy. Did’st thee conspire to pilfer my stores of eggs, as if Church Mouse a veritable hen house? Ethel most certainly did not lay those eggs!”

Eventually, the two rabbits emerged into the dining room, bearing plates full of painted eggs and a bowl with a golden mixture of yolk and potatoes. Ethel set the painted eggs around the table, between each of our plates, and then disappeared for a moment to retrieve a metal tray with yet more plates; a plate of egg white slices with the devil’s filling of yolk and mayonnaise, a plate of chocolate pie that I’m told is made from turtles, and a plate of pink, soft-looking meat that practically begged for teeth to sink into it. It was a feast fit for a king.

Lumi sat next to me, still wearing her apron and looking a little flushed. The white garment was covered in smears of mayo and cream that was likely meant for the pie. I wondered briefly if she’d ever cooked like this before.

Ethel quickly made a small plate for each of us, and sat down herself. Beatrix, stabbing her finger into one of the deviled eggs, looked pointedly at her servant.

“Pray tell, was it very much trouble when’st you thrust the eggs from your being, Ethel?” She was none too amused, even as she stuffed the egg white into her mouth whole.

“My lady, if I were to cook only when commanded, we’d be gagging on raw moon peaches for the rest of our days.” The lop ear took a small chunk of pie on her fork and lifted it smoothly into her mouth. Lumi followed suit, and her ears flew up like party streamers before falling weakly onto her head.

“Ohh,” she whimpered. “It is so, so sweet...”

Ethel saw us out and bowed politely to the two of us as we left. Lumi was still licking the chocolate off of her fingers even as we left the Gallery’s gate and shut it behind us.

“She, ah, she did not lay them,” Lumi said aloud, as if she needed to confirm it with me.

“Well, you both did, sort of. The eggs come from a chicken, but when you paint them, it’s as if you’re creating something new. That’s what rabbits represent to humans, anyway. A new start.” My thoughts streamed unfiltered from my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

“A new… start.” She repeated, a curious whimsy in her tone.

Feeling boldly full of food for the first time in quite a while, I felt foolishly more encouraged to take Lumi to a real church gathering for Easter. I didn’t expect her to absorb any of the religious meaning for the event, nor did I have any interest in trying to impart it on her, but I thought it would be fun to take her to a place with lots of merry people and free wine.

On a road leading south, into untended hills overgrown with tall trees and wealthy houses, there were two churches on opposing sides of the street. One housed a glass enclosure with a bronze statue of an empress bearing a cross in her arms, Saint Helen. But I didn’t know anything about her; to me, she was as a woman on broadway, with how the statue was adorned with stagelights at her feet. The place was crowded with old folk in black suits and ties, exiting their fancy cars, looking as though they were attending a funeral rather than a celebration.

The building across the street threatened the pierce the clouds with its high-rising cross, far above the power lines and the tallest trees around. A stained glass angel observed us as we crossed the brick entrance and the door with its multicolor tiles. Some duty looking men with heavy overcoats were being welcomed inside by a white-collared pastor who seemed to be assuring them there’d be something to eat inside. Yeah, this is the place.

It was a humble place on the inside, a contrast to the bold cross that dared raise itself into the heavens. A simple carpet along the runway with a hardwood floor under the pews; white walls, lightly decorated with simple red tapestry; ordinary people in ordinary clothes sitting among the pews and listening to the pastor blather on about some arab guy who couldn’t possibly have pushed a rock out of the way of his tomb. I wasn’t really listening, I was merely taking in the sights of other people – an unfamiliar vision, for sure – and watching in amusement as Lumi clammed up and hid herself in her hood.

There was a basket full of colored eggs, pastries, wine and offerings in the middle of the aisle where people could share donations. A thin looking woman, her hair hidden in a nun’s coif, took a bottle of wine from the basket and began handing out small glasses of the red colored grape juice, along with little pieces of bread. I couldn’t quite place her face, but she was dressed very conservatively, like a real sister of the faith. When she had gotten around to everyone, she came to Lumi and I, but instead of handing us our share, she sat down next to us.

“Here,” she said, offering Lumi and I our glasses. The rabbit-girl looked to me to be sure, and I just knocked back my glass, downing the booze in one go. Lumi elected to take reserved little sips.

“It’s nice to see you again, little drummer boy.” A coy whisper in my ear. Electricity shooting through my nerves, I turned my head in a panic to see the nun flashing me a toothy grin.

“Why did you call me that?”

“That’s what the drug-pastor calls you, yeah? It’s a cute nickname.” She covered her mouth to hide her smug smile. She scooted next to me and rubbed her shoulder against mine, as if we were old friends. “C’mon… Don’t tell me ya don’t recognize me.”

Her voice sounded familiar, with a rhythmic thrum like a harmonica. And her eyes, that bewitching blue-green color. Oh, it’s her.

Her frame was small, but not as tiny as Lumi’s, and her face was surrounded by the coif in such a way that her hair was perfectly hidden. She tugged at the piece that hugged her forehead, pulling it loose from her head… and a little brown lop ear fell out.

“Matilda,” I said, nearly accidentally. “What do you want?”

“M-Matilda?!” Lumi cried, in a hushed panic.

“Calm down. I ain’t here with anybody who’s got a beef with either of you. I came here on my own. I never thought I’d see the likes ‘a you here, to be honest.” She just shrugged off our surprise and stuffed her ear back into her holy hood.

“Why? You wanted to know about Easter?” I asked, plainly.

“Not exactly...” She began, tapping her indexes together. “Ya see, I come here all the time. I even have this...” She pulled a silver rosary necklace from her dress and let it fall into full display in front of her. “Somethin’ about this place, how it brings people together. When I come here, I feel like… Like I belong, y’know? Like, I can come here, and wear this necklace, and talk to people. And they accept me. I feel like… That’s what we’ve been tryin’ to do, all along. I mean, ain’t it?”

Lumi and I just looked at her. I couldn’t think of even a single word to say in response.

“Maybe during Easter, we’re all rabbits. And all rabbits, they’re human. And we come together and have some nice food and get drunk. That sounds like a Heaven on Earth to me.” She stood up and entwined her fingers in front of her, nodding to us. And we silently nodded back. “See you later.”

***

I couldn’t figure out why, but after that, I felt lighter and the world more at ease. Cars passed us in a blur of light and speed. The air tasted sweet. Lumi touched her hand against mine, and I grasped it without thinking. I was walking on air.

It was only afterward, once we’d retreated to the apartment, and Lumi’s ears were sticking out of her blankets while she snored and sucked hair into her nostrils, that I realized why Matilda had stopped to talk to us.

She’d snuck a shot of acid into the drink, that little rat. I’d be seeing rabbit ears coming out of the walls for the rest of the night, and I would never get to sleep.