The Gospel of the Melon

In the first age, the Melon appeared in the valley, rising from barren soil like a green sun. The people gathered around it in fear and wonder. Some believed it was punishment, others promise. They gave offerings of grain and water, though it needed none. It simply was.

The First Kneeler—whose name is lost to time—was the man who bent before it, praying for understanding. His descendants would call him Prophet, though all he had done was tremble and ask.

Generations passed. The Melon neither rotted nor grew. Its rind remained taut, unwrinkled, fresh with dew even in the driest summers. Children were taught not to touch it. Elders told them, “The Melon chooses when the Melon chooses.” And so it became law: weddings, treaties, and harvests were sealed in its shadow.

In the second age, a king came to the valley. He wished to cut the Melon, to claim its flesh for his people. Swords broke against its rind, fire blackened but could not scar it, poison wilted the ground around it but left the Melon unmarred. The king left humbled, and in his shame decreed that no mortal should raise a blade against it. The people spoke of the Melon’s patience, how it endured insult without anger. From this they learned a philosophy of stillness.

By the third age, temples had risen in the Melon’s honor. Pilgrims came from across the deserts, bringing gifts of jewels, salt, incense, but always leaving with the same word: silence. For in the Melon’s presence, voices faltered. It was said to draw thoughts inward, forcing people to confront themselves. Some called it the Mirror of the Heart.

In the fourth age came famine. The valley cracked and the rivers bled dry. The people starved. Mothers whispered to their children: “One day, the Melon will open, and you will taste paradise.” Starving hands pressed against its cool surface, lips cracked with thirst kissed its rind. Still, the Melon remained sealed. And in that age, many abandoned their faith, calling it a cruel stone god. But others held firm, saying, “If it waits, we must wait also.”

Legends say that in the fifth age—still to come—the Melon will split. Not with noise, but with a sigh. Its flesh will pour out rivers of red sweetness, healing the world’s thirst. Some believe the seeds inside will fall upon the land, each sprouting into new worlds. Others whisper that when the rind opens, it will not be flesh but light, and that light will erase everything, leaving only silence.

The Book of the Watermelon

1 And it came to pass in the days of great thirst, when the rivers had dried and the earth was cracked, that the Melon rose from the dust.
2 None sowed it, and none watered it, yet it was.
3 Round as the moon, tall as the mountain, green with stripes of fire, it stood in the valley.

4 And a man beheld it and fell upon his knees.
5 His name is forgotten, yet his kneeling is remembered.
6 And he spake not of riches, nor of conquest, but only whispered, What would You of us?
7 And thus was born the First Prayer.

8 And the Melon endured. It changed not with season, nor with age.
9 In the days of sun it did not wither; in the nights of frost it did not crack.
10 Children grew and perished, yet the Melon remained.
11 And the people said: Surely it is not fruit, but mystery.

12 Then came a king with his armies, and he sought to cleave the Melon.
13 He smote it with the sword, but the sword broke.
14 He scorched it with fire, but the fire was quenched.
15 He struck it with stone, but the stone was shattered.
16 And the king trembled, and his men fled.
17 And it was written among the people: Raise not hand against the Melon, for it abides beyond all strength.

18 And the years were many, and pilgrims came from far lands.
19 They brought salt and honey, copper and cloth, yet the Melon received them not.
20 It gave neither answer nor sign, save silence.
21 And the silence was heavier than speech.
22 For in the silence, the greedy heard their hunger, the guilty heard their shame, and the meek heard peace.

23 And in the days of famine the people cried aloud: Break for us, O Melon! Feed us with your flesh!
24 They pressed their lips to its rind, yet nothing flowed.
25 And many cursed, saying, Cruel is the Melon, and false is its promise.
26 But others answered, If it waits, so must we wait. For the Melon is patient, and the Melon is true.

27 And the elders spoke, saying: In the last days it shall split asunder.
28 Some declare: Its sweetness shall pour forth like rivers, and the earth shall be made whole.
29 Others declare: There is no flesh, but light; and the light shall swallow all things.

30 And until that day, the people kneel.
31 They kneel not for knowledge, and they kneel not for gain.
32 They kneel because they were born in its shadow, and they shall die in its shadow.
33 And the Melon abides.