When I decided to make this blog, I told myself that I will post once a day, every day. But why not break the rules? I have had a story on my mind for quite some time, and have, after a moment of consideration, chosen to finally write it down. I’m not sure if this could be considered sharing it with someone, but the thought of some stranger reading it comforts me. Maybe you are far away, reader. Or maybe you are close. Maybe you are close enough to see, if I only turned my head slightly. Either way, I hope this story provides you with some entertainment, or at least a way to pass the time. Maybe something to think about before returning to your everyday life. Enjoy.
The moon hangs low in the sky, so low that one might wonder if it was not trying to touch the horizon. Its white light is the only thing in the blanket of black sky that can be seen. Where have the stars gone? Did they ever exist? A young girl wonders this as she trudges through fresh, crisp snow and pushes against a light wind. She wonders where she is, who she is, what she is. Does she have a name? A family? The girl does not know. All she does know, really, is the endless white that surrounds her and fills her boots, the soft whispers of the wind that sing to her, and the emptiness of the sky, save for the moon.
She forces onwards, shivering now. Small bumps rise on her exposed arms, and her perfect teeth start to chatter. The wind picks up, and she holds the end of her thin dress to keep it down. She watches as her boots sink into the snow, one after the other, and her once black leggings become spotted with white. Her hair blows behind her, and her nose and ears begin to sting. She sniffs a few times, unsure if her nose is running or not, then coughs.
Glassy dots start to fall from the sky, joining together to make a soft bed of white. The wind grows angry. The moon rises, only to be covered by a few stray clouds. The girl has stopped shaking. She no longer feels the snow seep into her boots, or the movement of her legs, or the scratching wind. She sees white. She smells the cold and tastes metal. She hears the crunching of her feet in snow and the screams of the wind. The screams are soon replaced by ringing. Has the wind stopped? The metal taste grows stronger. The white that she once saw is fading, slowly, to black. She falls onto the bed the sky has made for her.
Above her, the moon is freed from its prison behind clouds. The wind settles, and the sky clears. There are dots up there, watching, wondering. Who is this girl? Why is she laying there? Why doesn’t she move? The stars watch until they are blinded by one of their own. The sun rises, replacing the moon. The snow melts under its blaze, the wind leaves for the day, and in the distance voices can be heard.
On the news that day, a reporter tells of footprints in the snow. Countless footprints that lead to nowhere and no one.
Above him, a new star is born.
~Harmony
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