Submitted to: Contest #51

A Year of Stars

Written in response to: "Write a story that begins and ends with someone looking up at the stars."

26 likes 10 comments

Drama

Starlight filters through the leaves of the massive old oak tree. A refreshing breeze cuts through the heavy summer air. Here I lie on the moist grass, midnight dew soaks into my clothes, but I don’t notice. I gaze at the stars, millions of them; scattered throughout the heavens. I know they are always there, but tonight is different.


The night sky, black as a raven’s wing, makes each tiny star shine like a jewel. I remember a song my mother used to sing to me when I was a kid—Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are? Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky... In an instant, I appreciate all the insignificant things in my life.


I make poor choices in my life; it’s my thing. I’m impulsive, irrational, and reckless. I never think about the consequence of my actions or who might get hurt. This time I took a risk that changed my life forever. I can’t blame anyone but myself for the outcome.


Luke, my fiance, broke up with me today. It was my fault; I started the argument. I accused him of spending too much time with his friends. I told him he was self-centered and not worth marrying. I cussed him, threw my engagement ring at him, and stormed out. Honestly, I wanted all of his attention. I was jealous and selfish. 


After the fight with Luke, I wanted to go out. I wanted to have fun. My best friend, Cass, agreed to go with me for a girls’ night out. I wanted to drink away the pain. I didn’t care where. We ended up at a sleazy bar outside of town. 


So tonight I drank away a lot of pain—pain I didn’t even remember. I wanted to forget Luke and forget that I screwed up the best thing that I had in my life. Cass begged me not to leave the bar with the guy in the beat-up blue truck, but I didn’t listen. I never listened to anyone. 


I want to call Cass and tell her how sorry I was for taking off without her. I yearn to hear Luke’s voice, to work things out with him. I need to call my mother and let her know I’ll be okay. I think of a thousand words I want to say to the people I love.


The old oak is ablaze with crimson and gold. There’s a crispness to autumn that ushers in thoughts of bonfires, toasted marshmallows, and hayrides. With each gust of wind, the tree reveals more of its branches. I lie on the damp, frosty ground surrounded by a blanket of fallen leaves. The sweet, musty smell of wet earth and decay drifts through the air. The clear blue-black sky holds a brilliant orange moon. I see the moon, And the moon sees me; God bless the moon, and God bless me. I gaze at the flickering stars.


Thanksgiving will be in a few weeks. My mother invariably makes too much food; we eat leftovers for a week. I want to smell the aroma of her fresh-baked rolls, homemade pumpkin pie, and sweet potato casserole. I want to play football in the yard with Luke and our friends. I want to sit in front of the fireplace with Cass and string popcorn garland for the Christmas tree.


Here I lie on the frozen ground, gazing through the naked branches of the old oak, gnarled and weathered by time. Its limbs creak under the weight of ice. The birds left weeks ago, flying away to a warmer, more welcoming place. The sky is blank and silent; gray clouds hide the stars tonight. A hazy moon tries to peak through the thick veil. I sympathize with the heavens as I lie here abandoned and empty. The biting wind drifts snow over me like a winter quilt. 


I want to go Christmas shopping for the perfect gift. I want to ice skate in the park with Cass. I want to share a cup of hot cocoa with my mother and watch old movies. I want to celebrate New Year’s Eve, watching fireworks over the lake, and sharing a long, tender kiss with Luke.


With renewed vitality, the old oak awakes. Tender leaves cover its once bare limbs. A gentle shower washes away the remnants of winter. The world around me springs to life. The birds are back, making their nests in the shelter of the old tree. Here I lie on the rain-soaked ground and gaze at the blue-black sky. The moon is full and bright, alone amongst all the stars. 


I want to have an afternoon picnic with Luke and stroll in the park. I want to go bike riding with Cass and have lunch at our favorite bistro. I want to spend the weekend at the lake, lounging on the dock reading a book. I want to plant spring flowers with my mother and hear her sing to me.


Moonlight streams through the thick leaves of the old oak tree. Here we are again, old friend. Ironic, you were stark and barren a few months ago now you are full and green, and I lie here nothing more than a pile of bleached bones. The old oak sways in the summer breeze. I have solace in knowing the magnificent oak will not abandon me.


I want to tell Cass what a best friend she was to me. I want to tell Luke how much I loved him and take back all the hurtful things I said to him. I want to hear my mother sing to me one last time. I want to go back to the night I left in that beat-up blue truck. 


Here I lie, under the darkness of the old oak, gazing into the star-filled sky. Star light, star bright, The first star I see tonight; I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the wish I wish tonight. But not all the wishes in the world could undo my fatal mistake.

Posted Jul 24, 2020
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26 likes 10 comments

Rhonda Hyder
12:30 Aug 28, 2020

Jan, this is such a beautifully written story!
Your descriptive passages are captivating.
The ominous build up through subtle repetition is enthralling.
I could hardly wait to get to the end to see if my suspicions were to be proven correct. I was even tempted to skip down to the end to see if I was correct. I didn't.
Funnily enough, I actually wrote a short story some while ago that was a bit similiar to this one, but I wrote it from the point of view of a growing sapling that grew over the bones of the murdered girl. The tree refused to give up it's secret even decades later when the young murderer was brought back to the scene by the police, as a very old man. Shame I can't share my story with you.
You are a talented writer. I'm going off now to read some more of your submissions.

Reply

Jan H
16:16 Aug 28, 2020

Rhonda, thank you so much. I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. It made my day to see you wanted to read more of my stories.

Your story sounds amazing. I would love to have been able to read it.

Reply

Rhonda Hyder
07:32 Aug 29, 2020

JUST FOR YOU JAN H!
The Secret
The baby rabbits who had heard the piercing screams late that afternoon had scuttled back to the comfort of their mother’s warren. The grey sky, witness to what had happened, turned its face away and was obscured by the darkening clouds of a late summer storm.
The birds in the forest were stirred into a fearful cacophony of shrieks and took flight to roost far away. A new green shoot on the forest floor, traumatised by the event, shrank back, repulsed.
The night came softly and saw what had happened. The night softly covered what had been done. Each day, each night the sun and the moon chastised the evidence that lay near the perimeter of the forest. The animals too, came to see and to do their part.
The young sapling wept over the thing and the rains came and went in sorrow. In time, the little sapling grew strong and crept upwards proudly towards the sky. Eventually a young tree stood tall. The trunk was strong and silent. Standing sentinel near the edge of the forest the tree’s branches moved silently. The leaves murmured but refused to tell. The tree roots ploughed deep into the rich soil, but they guarded their secret by dragging it with them.
The other trees nearby who had seen what had happened, waited and watched. As the years went by, the tree watched over its secret and waited silently. Uneasily, the mature trees shook their branches in disgust. Fifty years went by and still the tree refused to give up its heavy burden.
The old trees died and toppled to the ground with the sound of thunderclaps. Soon the forest had almost forgotten the events of that terrible day. The tree did not forget. Nourished by its secret, it waited and waited to see what would happen.
Then, one day the uniformed men came with their shovels, spades and overalls. The boy came with them but now he was an old, old man. He looked around the forest floor in puzzlement. He looked at the tall strong tree but he did not recognise it. The tree was glad. The tree did not want to give up its secret.
The tree watched the men dig all through the day. What a mess they made! The old man had been taken away by some men in a different sort of uniform. At the end of the day the men covered over their holes and tried to redress the mess they had made on the forest floor. They left in their vehicles.
The sun came down quickly. A last shaft of bright sunlight momentarily pierced the earth at the foot of the tree. Within the brightness a sprinkling of unknowing yellow wildflowers danced across the green grass which grew over the secret. The tree stood silently. Its roots curled around and over the bones of the murdered girl.

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Jan H
13:26 Aug 29, 2020

Rhonda, this is so sweet of you to let me read your story. This was so sad and beautiful at the same time. The POV from the tree works so well. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Thank you.

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Keerththan 😀
06:03 Aug 10, 2020

Short and cute story. Love the way you write. The descriptions were great. Keep writing.
Would you mind reading my story
"The secret of power?"

Reply

Jan H
12:54 Aug 10, 2020

Thank you Kerththan, I appreciate the comments. And I don't mind reading your story, I'll do that right now.

Reply

Deborah Angevin
11:41 Jul 31, 2020

Uh, I loved the way you write the descriptions. It conveys the imagery well!

Would you mind checking my recent story out, "A Very, Very Dark Green"? Thank you!

Reply

Jan H
12:21 Jul 31, 2020

Thank you, Deborah. I appreciate the comment and for reading the story. I'd be happy to read your story.

Reply

Charles Stucker
14:10 Jul 25, 2020

When I saw the words "leave the bar with the guy" I immediately thought she must be a ghost telling this story. When I see the part a paragraph later about leaves of crimson and gold, I look back at the start because I thought you mentioned summer. Then I look at the title (because OF course the page layout makes that a bit awkward on my machine) and then I can see the rest of the tale. Summer to Autumn to Winter to Fall to Summer and the final mention of death.

It was very predictable for one of your stories. A twist might have been for her to be living in a cave where this gut leaves her, then pulls her out for a little slap and tickle when he comes by to drop off food for her. He has kept her for a year (a cave seventy feet long into the side of a large hill would be warm enough to survive winter most places) and the reader doesn't know until that last bit- they expect a ghost but instead...

Just thoughts. You are not actually committed to her being a ghost until the bleached bones comment. Think how much better it might be for her to have a rib in her hand (from an earlier skeleton) and he's bleeding on the ground from her stabbing him, having spent months preparing for the right time. Several denouements come to mind for that shift. Or you could have him collapse from the ghost of the past girls, screaming as they got their revenge. Or anything to change the story and give "I" a little more agency, a bit more "i am taking charge of my life and growing. A truly twisted ending would have her telling the man, who is screaming on the ground, that she never knew how necromancers occurred. Now she knows it takes someone with inborn talent who spends time sharing something with a group of vengeful ghosts. Something he provided by keeping her where he kept all the other girls he brought out for their "year of living dangerously" before he killed them.

Yeah, I kind of thought of ways to twist the story as i wrote this comment. I offer them freely to inspire you to REWRITE this in a unique way so you can send it in somewhere and earn a little cash along with a professional sale. remember as a rewrite it is a new unpublished tale, not a reprint.

Because Jan, you have the talent, why not see where it takes you?

Reply

Jan H
14:21 Jul 25, 2020

Charles, I so appreciate your feedback. You give such detailed insights. I get so rushed to get a story out and don't take time to flesh out the details. Your twists to the story sound amazing. It inspires me to take a deeper look into my stories. Being told that I have talent makes me want to keep writing. Thank you so much.

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