Stars and Guns

The moon rose cloudy over metal. Dark, disinterested moon; no light of its own to show the world… I was just thrown here, so many millions of years ago, and why should I care a bit what happens below on a dark night like this. I have my own dreams to pursue... The shadowy trestle stretched out into inky blackness. Impervious giant, more shadow than steel. It served no purpose; it held no memories of racing monsters, belching black smoke. Itself no more than a wisp of smoke, a shadow structure, a figment of nightmare imagination.

Underneath it stood a girl, small, her back to the trestle. Pale face ghostly, ephemeral. She had only just materialized. Just awoken to this place within the shadowy trestle that served no purpose and the moon that was nothing but a dead lump in the invisible sky. She knew nothing; who, where she was... She was empty, filled with shadowy night. Her soul danced macabre geometry with her surroundings, gasped and retreated, made small by the steel giant. Yes, she was nothing, without purpose, empty as night and just as vague. Uneasy, she turned to her left, the hand most comfortable with darkness, and walked to find higher ground, perhaps more light, open space, less shadow. Her head cloudy, thick as gloom; she moved into darkness semi-blind, a coil, unwinding with cautious speed.

Shadows clung to everything, if it could be said that there were things to discern from shadow. To her left was a steep embankment, stretching forward in a high, straight perspective- quickly dissolving, straight to black; her only sure guide. To her right was nothingness, misty shadow, hanging, thick, wet.

Gradually the embankment became less steep and she scrambled up, slipping on the lush, wet grass. Tracks gleamed faintly metallic in darkness. Clouds blew overhead; thick wisps around the moon. If once the moon had shown no interest then she is the most fickle of creatures, for now if she noticed anything she only mocked... Why should I reveal myself to a world that can’t tell dark from light? To be sure, she was little less than a crescent, coldly beautiful, distant, remote, laughing; severe. By this halfhearted light the land lay on either side, flat and featureless. A dark line could be hills in the distance… a faint gleam from a far off river? It appeared the moon was right. Straight ahead the tracks led, one friend in a humorless world; the girl stumbled on, what else could she do? Stop, sit down; nothing? Wait with bowed head, like a sponge behind a faucet for an eternity of darkness to sink into her- as it was already beginning to do? No. She could follow the tracks, see where they led... She had a goal at least; if not a purpose. And this made her walk through the darkness.

After an hour, minute or eternity of shadow walking, a shape began to materialize from the mist ahead. It loomed large as she moved forward, half blind, arising from seven veils of shadowed mist that danced with enticing promise and threat. Wet black-green, a large round hill rose directly from fog above the tracks. From on top of the hill came a diffused yellow glow; warming her soul as hope swelled her heart. She moved with quickening breath and wide, alert eyes.

On the edge of the hill the tracks ended in soft grass. Green as emeralds, long as whispers, it sloped into shadow up the steep hillside. Upon reaching this soft place, the clouds dissolved like a bad dream and the sky filled with bright, luminous stars; the little sliver of moon glimmered benign. Silent peace reigned; being neither here nor there; she felt it sink into her like warm relief. A quietness of blessed eternity. Peace of darkness and bright stars. Peace that needed no fickle moon to illuminate its depths. She longed to lie down in the grass and gaze at the stars… to lose herself in the wide glittering expanse. Herself?
She who had been nothing,
… a shadow.
…She who had been a goal.
She, who could be nothing; peace, darkness, and bright stars…
She stood a few moments, lingering, unsure. She had only just materialized.
On top of the hill stood a large house with glowing windows…
…Sweet oblivion or reason. “This must be it”, she thought, “there must be a reason”.

Slipping, sliding, she managed to reach the top of the hill where the tall wood house stood firm, caressed by light mist, lingering low to the earth. The windows glowed warm, soft clouds of misty light. She stepped under one, went on tiptoe, craning, but the windows were too high to see inside. Enveloped by streaming light, shadows outside the stream were difficult to see. She stepped back into the gray area and looked around, but saw no door. She walked around the house, to the right hand side, and there she saw some broad, raw hewn wooden steps leading up to a large, roughly made door. The tall doorway’s deep threshold was inky black in contrast to the adjacent window’s warm glow. Her step paused, breath caught. It was a door you could fall into, and expect to keep on falling. But after so much silent darkness she longed for the sound and warmth she felt might lie behind it, if only it would open for her. She felt the raw wood reverberate as she moved up the stairs. She knocked and instantly the door was thrown wide open.

A smiling woman stood there, radiant as the evening star, welcoming her inside. Her smooth chestnut hair hung long down her gown of silver. A barely perceptible, warm shimmering mist surrounded her. “Welcome, welcome, come in dear child, we have been waiting for you!” The woman placed her arm around the girl’s shoulders and ushered her inside. “Just a moment dear”, she spoke with head tilted forward, gazing deep at the girl, with watery eyes. She turned and glided off, her smooth back and shoulders glowing above her elegant gown, a glimmering silver salmon darting through the crowd. There was something about this woman, something vaguely familiar. Something in the shape of her face, the color of her hair. Something in the warmth of her embrace, her voice, her eyes. Yet she was different, totally different. Exalted. The same. This girl, who was a mystery even to herself, recognized someone else. Someone who might have been and yet never was her mother.

And so briefly had she stayed. The girl stood there, with the room swirling around her. Yes, she had said she would come back. And so the dazzled girl peeped outside her swirling vision with myopic glances from downcast eyes. The shadows still clung to her. It was a spacious room, with sparse yet rich furnishings. Little tables were set by plush armchairs beneath tall standing lamps that gave a warm, bright light. Free of carpets, the broad planked wooden floor was rustic and unpolished, yet homely. Adjoining was another room where tables full of food and drink were set. There was evidently a party in full swing, as the house was full of well-dressed and somewhat flamboyant men and women. Left alone, not far from the door, again the girl felt small. She looked around at the guests. There was a high-heeled lady with big blond hair, wearing a mid-length white dress that dripped with diamonds and sequins. Her neck and shoulders were draped in a large white fox fur. She stood conversing quietly with a man in a long black tail-coat. They often glanced at the girl. Nearby there was a dark-skinned Queen, dressed in pale shimmery pink, and sporting a fluffy pink feather boa, a glittering tiara and white gloves. There was a large bearded man wearing a leather vest, boots, metal chains and tattoos. There were many ladies, all in glittering dresses, and equally as many gentlemen who shined. Everyone was smiling and having a good time.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed by this sudden change, the girl wandered over to the tables and timidly enjoyed a small chocolate cookie and some fizzy fruit punch. In the midst of this festive crowd she felt lonely. Everyone seemed to notice her, a few smiled and nodded, so why did no one to speak to her? Where was the woman with the silver dress? She went to the window and gazed out, retreating into the familiar star-shadowed landscape.

A buzz in the room distracted her shadowy reverie. She turned from the window to see the crowd parting for the woman in the silver dress. She came out of another room carrying a large silver tray and headed straight for the little girl. The girl stepped forward to meet her as the guests gathered round. She gazed up into the woman’s soft familiar eyes and felt the shadows melt from her soul. The woman spoke with full tenderness in her voice. “Happy Birthday Xenea, my dear child. You may choose one.”

She lowered the silver tray and Xenea cast her eyes downwards upon it. Her vision became wider, encompassed the whole room with liquid clarity. Colors became vivid, beautiful. Objects were defined like clear gold and silver coins in a bright fountain, or colored pebbles in a sunlit stream. Outside was shaded night, cold mist on a vague landscape, but this room contained the colors and textures of rich celebration.

Time pivoted like a breath held from a gasp. A hush fell over the room, a hush in which stars could live and die, while time forgot to count. The moon could rise and set on a million black nights, and seasons could pass from scorching dust to moonless shadow and mist. Xenea gazed at the tray. On one side of the tray were arrayed shining silver stars; on the other were shiny black guns. She was allowed to choose one. The crowd was hushed and still. She lifted her hand and took a shining silver star.

The room burst into cheer. Jubilant guests came forward, smiling, laughing; each took a star from the tray as well and proceeded to leap out the back door, disappearing with their stars, their silver peals of laughter echoing lightly. The pink Queen caught Xenea’s hand and smilingly led her to the back door. Together they leapt into the night air, far out into the sky where their stars stuck to the inky blackness, growing large and shining with silver brilliance. One after another the elegant party guests flew out the door; shooting stars, a meteor shower over the valley! They perched elegantly on their stars or swung from the rays, all the while smiling and singing in a grand yet joyous harmony with high silvery tones.

The sky that had been so dark was filled with bright, twinkling stars. The house on the hill was quiet, except for the harmonious sound of the celestial choir, whose song floated in through the open windows, fluttering the curtains. The windows still glowed with warm light, but there was no one left inside. On a table lay the silver tray. It was half empty.