The Stars that Shine in the Storm

A broken picture frame sits on the mantlepiece, blood-stained glass covers the floor. My feet leave red footprints along the white tiles as I slink back to the sink. My hands turn the water crimson as I bring them under the tap. Stinging wounds. White bandages soaked through.

I squeeze my eyes shut. A rainbow of color blinks behind my lashes. I squeeze them tighter, and the color fades away.

I can still smell her lavender perfume. The soft cashmere of her buttercup sweater wrapped around my shoulders. I want nothing more to be a child again. Playing hide and seek in the backyard, ducking behind the rose bushes with a giggle, just beyond her reach. A knowing smile dusting across her lips as she clumsily covers her twinkling eyes. She twirls, a dancing silhouette against the cornflower blue sky.

Then she falls.

Down below the grass, into the dark mud beneath. She hits the earth’s center.

And shatters. 

The world fades into pale gowns and bleached tiled floors. Her skin pale beneath milky hospital lights.  Each breath she takes fogs up her once smiling mouth, chalky condensation building behind a terrifying gas mask.

I sit in a hospital chair, my feet tapping anxiously against the floor. Tapping to the rhythm of the machines. One breath in. One breath out. Rainclouds on her smiling mouth. Teardrops leak onto my cheek, washing away the smell of roses. 

In. 

Out. 

In. 

Out.

Then comes a keening beep. The white fog fades away. Doctors rush in and push me out. I can’t seem to get enough air. I hyperventilate, leaning against the doorframe, falling to the ground. Droplets fall onto the hospital floor. 

I’m drowning, rainclouds pulling me under the storm’s surface, yet I can do nothing to stop her as she flies away. Her wings soar into the sky, and she doesn’t stop until she hits the sun. 

Her wings burn, the smell of smoke singing my nostrils. The sky turns grey. 

And then,

She’s gone.  

Everything fades to black. 

I tug at my inky dress as the storm rolls in. Even the moon is too scared to show its face. 

They say she’s gone to be with the stars, but I can’t see their shine anymore. 

They say you can’t see a rainbow without the rain, but what if the clouds block out the sun? 

Where do the colors go?

What does it feel like when the light disappears…

All I can see is a sea of black as I walk towards the dark oak coffin. Heads bowed in respect as I shakily reach my hand out, placing a single red rose in her pallid hands. She’s cold. The light of a star, fallen from the heavens. The sky is dark once again. 

Heavy dirt muffles her twinkling eyes, the thud of shovels heaping dirt over her musical laugh. 

The rose disappears from view.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I grip the edges of the bathroom sink, water trickling from the tap. I’m too tired to turn it off. I instead watch, morbidly fascinated, as the red river swirls down the drain. 

Dark bruises under my eyes. My skin a pasty grey. I can’t bear to look in the mirror anymore. When I catch my reflection, all I can see is an echo, yet it’s as if her eyes were staring right back at me. But the stars have disappeared.

I’m a shattered replacement of a rainbow.

Then the doorbell rings. 

My head darts up, and I freeze, my feet sinking into the floor. I can’t tell what’s real anymore. I can’t get my body to move, too terrified that I’ll open the door and there’ll be no-one there.

The golden sound of ringing echoes through the apartment again.

I shuffle over to the doorframe, stretching out my hand towards the silver handle. My fingers brush the metal. And the door opens.

A man stands there, an apologetic smile on his face. 

“Sorry, to disturb you,” His eyes are a glittering, cornflower blue. “I heard that a Gracie Adams lived here?  I’m your new neighbor,”

I catch his look down at my clothes. Ratty grey pajama pants, my hair a matted mess. I haven’t showered in days. A blush sweeps across my cheeks. But he smiles. His eyes soften. 

“Would you like to come in?” The second the words leave my mouth I wish they had stayed firmly in my throat. 

But maybe it’s his bright yellow sweater, or that he looks like he could bring light back to the stars. Maybe it’s the fact that his smile looks like the sun, and his eyes twinkle with mirth and kindness. But I don’t take it back.

“I’d love that.” 

I hesitantly welcome him into my grey apartment. Broken glass still litters the floor. Bottles and picture-frames. Old Chinese takeout containers spread across the kitchen table. I dart a furtive glance towards him, terrified that my loneliness will have wiped the sun right off his face. 

But instead, I freeze as I spot the flower in his hands. 

“For you.” He says, catching my eyes. “I didn’t want to come around empty handed.”

My hands feel like wood as they close around the stem. Delicate rose petals dance in my hand as I twirl it between my fingers.  

“Thank you.” I whisper. 

I grab a vase and fill it with water. I clear away the bottles and the takeout boxes, throwing the curtains open. Then I place the flower in the table’s center. 

Its pink petals open up to the sun.

I dip my toes in the ocean, giggling as the sea laps at my feet. 

Water doesn’t feel like drowning anymore. 

He twirls me around and my dress swirls in the air. The sun casts golden ripples over the waves. 

We spend days dancing along the sand, our feet buried within its depths. The nights are spent stargazing, curled up in a gently swinging hammock. The moonlight paints our faces with a glittering, silver sheen. 

Sunsets stain the sky with purples, pinks and blue. Brushstrokes of his fingertips against my skin dye my cheeks pink. He’s picked up the cracks of the mirror and put them back together. The sun sparkles in the reflection. In the rainbow, I finally find her again.

Rain pitter-patters against the roof, but instead of hiding away, we sprint out onto the sand, dancing in the storm. There’s beauty in the clouds. We learn that the most stunning sunsets come after the rain.

A golden ring. A bright blue diamond. He gets on his knees, a question on his lips.

I see her eyes reflected in the gemstone. I feel the tickle of her yellow sweater as his arms circle around me. Candles flicker onto the picnic rug. Two words. 

I do.

I twirl in the waves with him, splashing in the foam. Steam rises, yet I don’t fade away. He holds me here, no longer just a reflection, but the image within the frame. He’s drawn me out from beneath the dirt and filled me in with a paintbrush. I’m a fire dancing with azure flame, a fallen star returning the heavens. Reignited. 

Till one day, I’m sitting by the edge of a gravesite, holding a smaller hand in my own. I look down into bright blue eyes, twirl my finger through soft yellow curls.

She giggles, darting away to hide among the rosebushes, the golden song of childhood echoing through the graveyard. I spin through the rainbow sky, my hand draped across my eyes as my feet dance across the grass.

“I’m going to find you!”

And it’s true. 

Because I’ve finally found myself. Through a little girl who has a smile that lights up the sun, with eyes that shimmer with the stars, and cheeks that blush with the beauty of a thousand roses.

And through my reflection, I’ve finally found her again.

I stop spinning. I kneel down to trace my hand against the name on the dark, grey headstone.

The sun sets, but in the dark, the stars begin to shine.