From the Perspective of Stars

From the Perspective of Stars

She emerges from the sea, silver droplets flying from her hair. She holds the whimsy of a childhood dream in her fairy-like features She is truly lovely in a way that people cannot see nor comprehend. Through the beauty of her exterior, there shines a bright soul, kind and compassionate. She is innocent in a way only a child can be, but in that innocence there is a shadow of pain darkening her jewel-like eyes. Though its only been eight years, her life has been filled with more hardship then most people experience in fifty.

Her father had been a well known business man, but it was as a parent that he excelled. He let his daughter ride on his back and wrestle with him, his eyes twinkling with amusement, his mouth turning up in laughter. He was her best friend and playmate, little did they know that it would only last for three short years.

Her mother was a singer, her voice sweeter than a nightingale’s. She sang wherever she was, bringing joy to every listener. The little girl remembers the music that filled her life with light before the darkness that had been hovering over for her whole life descended. She remembers the wonder of watching her mother perform on the stage of a beautifully gilded theatre hall. She remembers the picnics in a park full of sweet smelling flowers and graceful trees, chasing after birds of every color before sitting down to a feast of every child’s dreams. Magical cakes covered in spun sugar and candy pearls, pastries elegantly folded and pinches into endless spirals and swirls, confections of every color filled with little surprises, chocolate, raspberries, and even as a special treat, cream.

She recalls the overwhelming delight she experienced when she discovered that she was going to become a sister. They decorated the nursery, painting fairytale creatures on the walls in fantastical colors and setting up the handsome crib of dark wood. They bought blankets and toys for the new child , but the most precious moment was when the girl’s father helped her to meticulously carve a wooden bird to sit on the dresser. It was imperfect, the wood rough from the many nicks that were part of the process, but in the eyes of the girl it was beautiful because it had been made by her and her father working together in the excitement they shared.

The darkness arrived one fateful day carrying the piercing screams of a woman and a child and the torrents of scarlet blood. Too much blood. The girl’s mother died giving birth to her little brother. A tiny infant who didn’t live past two months old. Her father was devastated by the death of his wife, his companion of fifteen years who had always had his back and comforted him with song. Losing his only son was a heavy burden as well. The name of the family dating back seven generations lost to the shifting sands of time.

The once social and jovial man cut himself off from everyone, using all his money in a desperate attempt to drown his pain with whiskey. All it did was fill his eyes with the darkness that his daughter dreaded and fuel his temper. He would hit her, beating her until she couldn’t stand. He blamed her for his problems, the death of his wife and son, and the collapse of his company. When the notice came from the bank that they were being evicted that was the last straw. The fractures that had been forming in his mind finally splitting. He broke, becoming absolutely raving mad, his mind reverting to the animal instincts that exist at the core of all our beings. He threw his seven year old child out of the house screaming at her to never come back. The little girl didn’t know it at the time but she would never see her father again. He was taken to a mental institution where he spent the rest of his short life.

Their neighbor heard the commotion and took the girl back to her house. She contacted the girl’s relatives in the beautiful French city of Nice. This lady was so genuinely kind and believed that a new culture and lifestyle would benefit the girl, getting her mind off the things she experienced. So she packed a small suitcase for the child and hired a well renowned nanny to accompany the girl on her voyage across the Atlantic. The darkness is unstoppable though, and followed them onto the vessel bound for France.

They made it halfway through the trip until one terrible night darkness struck. Huge clouds rolled across the sky miring the tumultuous sea below. Lighting flashed, blinding the viewers, burning a snapshot of their finally hours into their horror filled eyes. Wind screamed across the deck, tossing the ship from left to right as the waves towered in huge swells around it. The girl cried quietly to herself in her bunk. She is alone in the cabin and prays over the noise of the wind, prays to be free, prays to alleviate the dread in her heart. She is terrified of the wind, of the water, of the darkness that is waiting to engulf her. The ship tilts, too far this time to recover. It flips, icy water rushing into the cabins. The girl is calm now embracing the darkness, embracing her fate, releasing that she can finally be free.

She rises now from the depths, an unearthly quality in her face caressed by moonlight showing that she was never meant to be in this harsh world. She turns her face skyward, thinking of her mother, her brother, even of her father. She is ready to be a family again, she is ready to join us in our nightly vigil. She studies us, the shining objects called stars by mortals, and we hold out our arms to her, welcoming her as a celestial child.