The Silver Ribbon

There it was again �" the sparkling silver ribbon. 

I saw it first in my dreams. Random as my dreams always were, I used to see myself chasing it. The scenes would be different every time. I had chased it through breathtaking valleys and under the sea. Even in total darkness, I’d followed its luminescence, reaching out to touch it.

Then it started to appear in real life. I was 13 and had just fought with my mom over another silly reason. I was cursing the whole world, when it appeared from a tiny spark. As if in a trance I had reached out, forgetting my anger and grief. 

But it just flew higher, leaving a trail of silvery sparks. I laughed out, feeling like a toddler chasing a firefly. 

It made me forget my worries. 

After that night, it appeared again and again. 

Sometimes at night when I would be having one of my long thinking sessions. Sometimes in the park, when I would be looking at the magnificent cloud patters in the sky. Even in libraries, where I would have a book kept open just for the sake of it. 

It came to me when I was alone and it came to me in the middle of crowds. But every time it appeared, it filled me with a feeling of deep satisfaction. 

It was my safe haven, my closest friend. I had even started talking to it. Others might think I’m nutters, but I believe it replied to me with tiny sparks or another curve of the ribbon. 

We communicated in our own indefinable language.

Times changed, things changed. But it never left me.

It was still there when I turned 30. It sparkled with the same warm glow when I turned 70.

Still, it never let my fingers feel its smooth surface. 

Whenever I got near, it flew away, as if to tell me it wasn’t the right time.

Today, at 86, lying on the hospital bed surrounded by beeping machines, I saw it again.

It had the same warm glow. For the 1^st time in days, I felt strong. I reached out to my old friend. 

This time it did not fly away.

Then, I realized. I felt like I had known it all along. 

Its moonlight strands spread around my fingers. 

It was warm, it was cool. 

I floated away with it, without looking back…

Author's Note

Though the story says 86, I'm just 16. Again, I wrote this story 2 years ago. It was one of those random pieces of imagination.