The Roaring Stars

A Story by robin vega

A young girl finds hope when a star descends.

I always watch the stars.

Cars raced by in the night, and they were unattainable, unreachable. They screamed by in their busy lives, neon streams in the night. The road was flashing neon signs some nights, and others, there were only a few lonely travelers. I saw all of them through my window, watching the lights on the sleek paint and the wheels turning. The street lamps burned yellow orange, casting strange lights into my darkened bedroom. And every night, I could see the stars, always static but alive.

The stars were my only consolation some nights. Their reassuring soft glow always made my heart soar, and their multitude made me feel secure. They were my numerous guardians from above. I traced patterns in the sky through my window, creating new constellations and new stories to tell.

Every night Mom and Dad were home late, so the stars were my company. Mom had her job at the hospital, and Dad was doing everything he could to get a promotion. I always came home to an empty house. Every day my bus driver would ask if someone was home, and I would say yes. I’d open the house, my keys jingling, and see the couch empty, the kitchen sink still dripping.

When I was little, my parents weren’t distant figures. They tucked me in bed every night with a kiss and a promise. They promised that tomorrow would be better than today. “Make sure you make a wish on the evening star to make it happen, Arabella,” they would say gently.

I would nod and as soon as they left, clasp my hands together and whisper a chant. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.”

As the years passed, my wishing for a better tomorrow faded away, and as kids grew, I was left in the dust. In school, I was an outcast and friendless. I kept my head down in my sweaters and my thoughts locked up. They gathered dust, and my wishes evolved.

“Please,” I begged, on the eve of my tenth birthday, leaning out the window and staring at the navy sky. “I just want a friend.” My body shivered as I buried my head in my pillow, my window open and the stars twinkling out their sympathies as always. My oversized t-shirt quickly became stained with salty tears.

Suddenly, a cool breeze wafted through the room, spilling in through my opened window. Not a cold breeze that chills you down to the bone and makes you shiver and crave tea, but a breeze with a fresh, cooling, and refreshing scent of rain. It ruffled my hair, straight and dark brown, and I sniffled, my pale blue eyes shimmering with tears.

The white curtains aside from my window billowed as I caught sight of a single star twinkling much brighter than the rest. Suddenly, it flared bright white, and a trail of glittering, shimmering energy and light streamed through in front of me, like a celestial ribbon. It twirled and sparkled and formed a glowing silhouette. His figure solidified, and in front of me lay a boy about my age with tousled, shimmering white hair, pale blue eyes, moon-white skin, and a glowing aura around him. He smelled of rain.

I gasped, clutching my blankets, and prepared to scream. The boy placed a glowing finger over my lips just before I made sound, however. His eyes were kind and warm, glowing with warmth unbeknownst to me.

He smiled a little, secretive smile. “Don’t be afraid,” he said in a voice like a satin ribbon blowing in autumn wind. “I’m here to be your friend.” He blinked and ran a hand through his hair. White powder drifted from his hair, sparkling down in a shimmering cascade onto my sheets. They jumped, sparked for a moment, and then faded away.

“Who…” I struggled for words in front of this mysterious stranger. “Who are you? Why are you all glowy?”

He laughed a tinkling, crystalline laugh like a music box. “I’m your Evening Star,” he simply replied.

“I’ll call you Eve for short,” I said, smiling. His body radiated a comforting glow, one I could feel on my skin, and it swept through me like warm soup or a hug.

We talked all night, about all the meaningless little things like the weather, song preferences, whatever gossip I had heard in school the previous day, et cetera. I never once asked him where he came from, or how he got here. He was a dear friend to me, and that was that. With each passing hour, I felt myself becoming happier in his presence.

The next night, I opened my window, looking up at the Evening Star like normal. I could see him, in the star. His personality embedded in the glimmering ball of gas burning farther away from me. And I called out to him. I whistled a little tune, sending the sound out my window like a flute.

And he came. He appeared just the way he did before. And the night after that. And after that. In fact, for eight months, he kept me company in a lonely crowd of people known as life and existing. He kept me sane; I’d go as far to say. I loved him in an inexplicable way, like a fingerprint on my heart.

But one night, before Christmas, he didn’t come. I stayed up all night waiting for him, but he never did. I stayed up until the birds sang with nine o’ clock song, and I cried.

“Where were you?” I sobbed. “Where did you go? Please come back.” I pleaded and begged, but the stars burned out long ago with the sun’s heat and light. “Oh, Eve, my star, come back!”

Christmas night he came again, except he looked different. There were little creases underneath his brilliant eyes. His hair was unruly, not ruffled. He looked sleep-deprived. “Where were you?” I yelled angrily, tears running down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, embracing me. “I had a rough night. I’ll be here, don’t worry. But I can no longer visit you every single night. Perhaps every other night will do?”

I sniffled sadly and hugged him. “Yeah,” I sighed. “But you gotta stay with me all night to make up.” He smiled and agreed gently but sighed tiredly. I realized he looked older.

Every other night he came to me like clockwork. But a year later, he had to resort to twice a week, then once a week, and then it was once a month. Eventually, he stopped coming. I stayed up for two nights in a row, hoping he would answer my call. I was a teenager now, and I guess he thought I could handle myself. But he was wrong.

Flash forward to my fifteenth birthday. My boyfriend had just dumped me after a week and my parents had divorced a year ago. I was living with my dad, and he fell in love with the drink. He came home nights and didn’t recognize me and beat me because he thought I was a stranger in his home. I was a wreck of tangled emotions, and I cried for the first time in months. I looked out my window, trying to see the stars. But the light and smog from the city had blocked out a lot of them. Less than half were still visible.

“Please,” I whispered into my pillow. “Evening Star, if you’re still out there, I need you. Please…please…”

A flash of light appeared while my eyes were closed, and I felt a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder. It smelled like rain.

“I’m here, Arabella,” A satin voice said, deeper now and more mystical. I looked back and I saw a pair of glimmering blue eyes looking into mine. I embraced him and sobbed like a child.

“Where were you for three years?” I asked once I had regained my composure. “Why did you leave me all alone? Do you have any idea how pissed I was?” I sighed and wondered if that was all I was. “I mean, you were my only friend. You still are my only friend. I was so alone.” I brushed my brown bangs out of my eyes.

“I ran into some hard times, just like you did,” he said comfortingly, but tiredly. I noticed that there were dark silver circles under his glittering eyes, and his hair was messy. His glow was a little fainter. He looked thinner, not lithe, but underweight and unhealthy.

“Well, you’re here now,” I huffed as I swung my legs over the edge of my bed. “So continue to not make me lonely.”

A weary smile crossed his face. “My pleasure, dear,” he hummed as a little shower of stardust fell out of his hand and into mine. ‘Here, take that,” he said, waving his hand around it and encasing it in a little satchel made of white silk, tied by a blue ribbon. “If I’m ever not here, take this and add a drop of rainwater to it and a pinch of sugar. Speak to it, and I’ll hear it, though I may not reply.”

“Well, there’s no need for that right now,” I said as I put it on my nightstand. “Because you’re here. And you’re gonna be here for a while. And not. Leave. Me. Alone.” I looked at him expectantly.

His smile faded slowly, dripping off of him and freezing halfway to the ground before shattering into a million little pieces. “I’ll try my best,” he said uncertainly as his cosmic arms wrapped around me, and his pulsating glow enveloped me. I nodded, feeling tears spring to my eyes. He placed a little kiss on the top of my head and we stayed like that for most of the night. I wasn’t lonely.

Like he promised, he came every night once again. He watched my life progress for an entire year. There was drama and loss. But there was also warmth and love. I made a few new friends, lost some, and met a guy that started dating someone else as soon as I asked him out. I sobbed to Eve, my starry guardian, my celestial miracle, and he held me with a whisper in my ear and a kiss on my forehead. Every time I felt sad or lonely, he was there.

Sometimes, he would try to come out early, when the sun was setting and the first lights of stars were emerging out of the oil painting sky. He would appear, tinged with orange, buttercup, violet, rose and blood red. He was a living painting those nights, and we would stare at the sky like old friends.

All my friends thought I was crazy, sitting on my roof talking to myself, but I swear, sometimes Eve would wave at them, and they would see him, for just a moment, and wave back, bewildered, only to forget in the morning.

We would laugh, and he would tell me about the other stars and their personalities. Sirius was cold, mysterious, and thoroughly sarcastic. “He’s an arse,” Eve would say. He never told me about stars as a whole, though; he always just described them individually. There were some grumpy ones (usually the red giants) and timid, hyper ones (the pulsars and white dwarfs). I learned them all from below and would wave to them.

But some days, he would be late. He would look tired, in pain, and his form would sometimes flicker. Sometimes he wouldn’t come at all. But it was okay this time. I was older, more mature, and I could handle being alone. I was never able to leave this dreaded city, this dreaded life, anyways. I didn’t have enough money to go to college, and I was saving up to escape.

A sunny night in late August, when I was seventeen, almost eighteen, I was sitting on the rooftop with Eve, and we were laughing and talking about meaningless things. I was laughing at an infomercial I saw that morning, and he was marveling aloud at the stupidity of mortals. Sometimes he talked like that, referring to us as. I never really minded because that was how he saw us. Mortals, destined to die too soon.

“And the entire family literally yelled at him just because he poured a glass of soda!” I snorted, my sides heaving. “It was ridiculous.” I sighed, glancing back at Eve. “Are your friends like that? Are stars the same way?”

He smiled and shook his head, giggling. “No, they aren’t,” he admitted. “They have a completely different feeling. They’re…formal and majestic, and silent, and enormous in presence. They fill up the whole air with their being. They rarely speak and rarely laugh. And they’re all beautiful.” He shook his head. “I’m a little different. I’m more connected to humans, being the brightest star to you all; therefore I’m the most…human.”

I was silent for a moment, thinking of all the human actions he’s done. I tried to imagine him cold and massive. “Well, even though you may be less silent and enormous,” I said to him gently. “You’re still every bit beautiful to me.” He blushed, a pinkish tinge swelling over his pale silver cheeks.

“Human,” he murmured, his hand brushing mine. “I really am human.” He leaned his head against my shoulder, his breath cool and minty on my neck. I felt a shiver run down my spine and a forest of butterflies take flight inside my stomach. It was a wonderful feeling, new to me.

Suddenly, he shuddered and he disappeared for a moment. But it was so fast, I barely saw it. It was like his form blinked for a nanosecond. He grunted in surprise, and then laughed. “What was that?” I asked him, following along and laughing softly.

“Oh, nothing,” he waved his hand absentmindedly. “I’m just tired.” He kissed my cheek comfortingly. “No need for you to worry, Bella.”

Things like that became common, him wavering once in a great while. But the fluff and gestures of affection increased. He became very touchy-feely, like I was a treasure he could only keep for a day, and he had to make the moment last.

On my twentieth birthday, it was Eve and I. I was alone, in a silver-white dress I had bought specifically for my birthday. I was on the bed, shoes off, after a long day of tests, hardships, and loneliness. It’s hard to enjoy your birthday when nobody cares. Dad had taken a habit to beating me when I didn’t get good enough grades and threatening me to get a job to pay for us. I got a job at a coffee shop, taking orders and whipping up drinks. But that wasn’t enough for him. I even went to college, and I came home for every four weekends.

I was alone, of course, and the sun was setting. Eve was suddenly at my side, smiling at me. I hugged him tenderly and felt his pulsing glow under my skin. “Happy birthday, Bella,” he whispered as his hands wrapped around my neck and fastened something around. It was a necklace, a glowing silver star pulsing on a little silver chain just above my heart. “You’ll always have me with you,” he said.

I leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, like he did to me. “Thank you,” I murmured. His warmth was all around me, and we were so close. A thought jolted to me like lightning. I was hugging a star, literally. I had a star to protect me from everything. We were so very close, his pale face touching mine. Now our noses, passing each other, and our mouths…they were so close.

Suddenly, his form flickered and disappeared. I cried out in alarm, searching for him. He appeared again, looking frantic. I realized how thin he was, and how dark his circles were under his eyes. “Bella!” He cried out “I have to go!” He flickered again, and I felt tears in my eyes.

“No!” I sobbed. “Why?” Tears mixed with makeup streamed down my face. “You promised!”

Eve looked at me, his form stilling for a moment, and I saw every shade of possible sadness in his eyes. “I’m dying, Bella,” he whispered. “I have been for a long time. My physical body is getting ready to explode. I’ll be nothing but stardust, floating in the etherium.” He flickered again, and I saw him contort in pain.

“No,” I whispered. “No. I still need you. Eve, please don’t.” I went over to him and grasped his trembling hand.

“I’ll always be here with you, though,” he smiled weakly, tapping the necklace. “I’ll always be in your heart. As long as you remember me.” He paused as he flickered, and I saw a side of him I had never really seen: twisted in pain and screaming silently, silver liquid trickling out of the corner of his mouth and down his neck.

There was a moment of terrible silence, other than the distant sound of rumbling, somewhere. “Why me?” I whispered. “Why me out of all the lonely children in the world?”

He smiled a saddened smile and his fingered brushed my jawbone. “You were so sad,” he murmured. “You still are. You’re an old soul, Arabella, and your journey has been long and arduous. You were all alone because Fate was cruel and cast you into a corner. But I saw you. I saw your beautiful soul, locked up, and I raised you.” He leaned upwards, toward me.

“Arabella, you were once a star,” he whispered in my ear, his silver ichor mixing with my hair. A teardrop stained with mascara dripped onto his shimmering cheek. “You fell and died, exploding into millions of fragments. The soul of the star fell into you, and you were born. Your parents were afraid of you, and were terrified of anything ever happening to their little star child. That overprotectiveness turned to abuse, and Fate decided to let you suffer more. Two stars met, one fallen and one dying, only to both fall apart in the end.”

I sobbed, choking and desperately clinging onto Eve. “Please, don’t die. If you die, I want to come with you. I don’t want to live without you. You made my life perfect, and without you, I would never go back to living in boring, normal routine. Every day would be empty, void of the compassion and love you gave me. I’d spend the rest of my days trying to remember the halcyon years I spent with you and that would torture me. I’d die. I would die without you.” I squeaked as he shuddered, gasping in pain and moaning softly. “Stay with me.”

I shoved my hands into his hair, clinging onto his fading form as it slowly began to flicker out. “I love you,” I whimpered; I kissed him as he became opaque. His cool skin, burning with a fever inside, collided with my flesh, destined to decay. A mortal star and a cosmic human united for an infinite moment.

“Arabella,” he whispered through my lips. “I love you too, my star.” For a moment, he kissed back, his lips tasting of starlight. My heart burst and melted to the ground, and I thought I would drown in the melancholy euphoria.

But before I could say anything more, he dissolved, floating away into the dark air. Collapsing, I felt my heart tear into a million pieces and float away with him.

Everything was dark and cold. I had no light. There was a void all around me and I was alone. So alone.

I felt dead.

But then, I saw a light. From the heavens and inside me.

My hair lifted up around me as I felt myself begin to burn inside. A warm blue glow spread all around me, turning my brown hair silver and my watery blue eyes glowing white. My skin paled and sparkled, and I tasted starlight.

Gasping, I felt so many thoughts rush into my head. I was overwhelmed, overwhelmed with the thoughts of all humanity, the plants, the animals, the collective consciousness of the earth and all of its inhabitants. I could hear the roar of life coming from everywhere, but especially from the sky. The stars and cosmic were roaring, pounding with a rhythm that I had known all my life.

I was weightless as I floated out my window, upwards like a hot air balloon. I felt infinite, like Eve. The roar of the stars swallowed me as I ascended up and up, into the void of space. Starry faces passed by me, familiar and foreign, but I sped past them. The black turned to white, as everything was drowned out by the cosmic sound. Everything was filling my ears, my mind, and my heart.

Then silence.

I was floating above in a white expanse. My dress floated around me. I had no need for sight, because I knew where I was. I was finished. My ride was over. I was home.

And I wasn’t alone.

“Bella, my star. Welcome home.”

“Oh, Eve. I never knew I was so beautiful.

“You always were. You just never saw it.”

© 2014 robin vega

Author's Note

I wrote this for my friend's birthday. Actually, he's more of a crush. I might even be in love. I dunno, though. I hope he likes this, because this is quite possibly one of the best things I've written. I left this note for him:
To Massey
I had a dream like this once. Not exactly like this, it was minus the romance. I just like to add that into things. But you were the star, and I was Arabella. I hope you enjoy it, Star.