StarshineandTheCreature
WhateverIwas,theydidnotwantme.Myfamilydidnotwantme.Iftheydid,Ibelieve theywouldhavebeenaroundlongenoughtonoticethewayIlaidawakeatnight,prayingfora changeofheart.Myfriendsdidnotwantme,somethingIwouldknowwhetherornotIevenhad anyfriends.I'msureatonepointoranotherpeopleconsideredmeafriend,butIdisagree.If anyone,anyoneatallweremyfriend,maybetheywouldhavebeentheretotalkmeoffofevery ledgethatledmetotheoneIhadbeenstandingon.Friendsandfamilyaretheretopullyouback intotheclutchesofhappiness,kickingandscreaming.Theyarenotsupposedtobetheonesto pryyourfingersfromthecliffsideyou'veheldontofordearlife.
Inmyhandswasalettermadeofpencilandredink.Itairedallmygrievancesandwas writteninsuchawaytomakesureeveryoneknewhowtheyfailedme.Exceptformybrother. Heneverfailedme,Ifailedhim.
Ituckedmyletterintotheheelofmyshoe,alltenpagesofit.Well,fivepages technically Ihadwrittenitalloutonbothsides.Ilookedouttothehillsonthehorizon,myeyes focusedontherowsofheadlightsinchingcloserbacktoFrontStreet.Sundayservicehadjust gottenout,andIwasaloneonthatroofwaitingforthecarstostartmarchinginaspontaneous funeralprocessionthroughthecenteroftown.
Myfamily'sapartmentwasinthetallestbuildingonFrontStreet,toweringafullstory overeverythingelse.Fromtheroof,evenduringthesummerwhentheleavesonthetreeswere thickandstrong,youcouldseeallthewayouttothechurchattheedgeoftown.Iusedtohave funsittingontherooftop.IwouldpretendthatIlivedinsomehightower,anisolatedwizard mixingpotionsandwritingincantations.IquitthatwholecharadewhenDariamadefunofme foritwhenwewerefourteen.Ihadassumedthatfourteenwasstillanappropriateagetohave funandplaypretend,butIwaswrong.Iwaswrongaboutmostthings.
Ilookeddowntothesidewalkthreestoriesbelow.Mytownwasn'tlikeothertownswith treesgrowingoutofthesidewalk.Oursidewalkswerebarren,notevenaweedgrewfromanyof thecracks.Mystomachdidn'tflipasIexpectedittowhenIimaginedapoolofbloodstaining theconcrete.Forthefirsttimeinawhilemystomachdidn'tsimmerwithanxiety,Icouldn'tfeel itatall.Icouldn'tfeelanypartofmybodyasIobservedthesidewalkfromabove.
Itwasrainingthickandheavy,anditkepteveryonetrappedindoors.Iwonderedif anyonewouldseemefall.Ididn'twanttogivemyfamilythesatisfactionofaperfectlooking
daughterinaperfectlookingcasket.Icutmylonghairalljaggedwithapairofscissorsanddyed itpurple.Notjustanypurple,Sergio'sPurplePalace#5,ahairdyesotoxicandpermanentthat notevenblackdyewouldcoveritup.Ismiledthinkingabouthowembarrassedmyparents wouldbe,sinceIknewthatthefuneralhomewouldpressurethemintohavingthefuneralopen casket.
Therainmadethebrickledgeslippery Oneofthebricksfeltalittlelooseundermyfoot. Agustofwindhitmyback.
AndIfell.
ItwentbyalotslowerthanIexpected.Inallhonesty,Ihadthoughtthatitwouldhave beenoverinaninstant.That'swhatdeathwassupposedtobe.Slammingmyheadagainsta broken,unevensidewalkwassupposedtokillme.ThenIwouldn'tfeelanything.Iwouldn'tbe lonelyandIwouldn'tfeelneglected.Mostimportantofall,Iwouldn'tbealive.
Sadly,Iwasstillconscioustosomeextent.Ididn'tfeelalive,butIdidn'tfeeldead.Ikept myeyesclosedandrolledoverontomyback,feelingeveryboneinmybodyslideinandoutof place.WasIinpurgatoryorsomething?HadIbeencursedtobeblindandwanderinganendless voidwithbillionsofotherlostsouls?Iopenedmyeyes.TurnsoutIcouldsee,andIwasbackon therooftop.
TherainwasstilljustashardasitwasbeforeIfellthefirsttime,andthewindwasjustas cold.Myarmswerecoveredinbruisesandmybackhurtlikehell,butIwasn'tdeadyet.From whereIlaidinthecenteroftherooftopIcouldseeaspotontheledgemissingabrick.Iranmy fingersthroughmyhair,pullingtheknottedandgreasypurplestrandsoutofmyface.AsIdidI feltalumpatthebackofmyhead.
"Let'strythisagain."Imuttered.
Ipulledmyselfupandlookeddownatmydress.Itwasrippedinafewparts,thematerial toocheaptostaytogether.Iapproachedtheledgeandpeakedover.Therewerecarsparkedup anddownFrontStreetandthefrontwindowsofallthebusinesseswerelit.Good,anaudience.I tookafewstepsback,letoutashakybreath,andranuptotheledge.Everypartofthefallfelt thesameasitdidthefirsttime.Nothinghadchanged.MychestburnedwithangerandIhada newsetofbruisesonmylegs,butIwasbackontherooftopagain.
"Whywon'tyouletmedie?"Iwailed,pullingatmydress.
MaybeGodwasdoingthistome.Maybemymotherwasright.Avoiceranthroughmy head.
Can you stop with that jumping nonsense? It has become a tired act.
Therainstoppedandthecloudsparted,bringingeverypartoftherooftopoutofthe shadows.Ispottedashiftingfigureoutofthecornerofmyeye.Itwassomesick,genericversion ofanapparitionstandingbythedoorthatledbackintothebuilding.WhenIturnedmyheadto getabetterlookatit,myheartdropped.AndIscreamed.
Thecreatureseemedtosuckallofthelightfromtheworldaroundit,geometricshapes madeofsmokeradiatingaroundablackholewithred,bleedingeyesbouncingaboutinsidethe void.SomehowIknewthatitwasthesourceofthevoice.ThelongerIstaredatit,themoreeyes itgrew.Afteramoment,thebloodfromtheeyesstartedleakingfromtheblackenedvoidonto theground,dropsasthickasoilanddarkaswinesmackedthewetconcrete.AssoonasI acknowledgedthething'spresence,theairstartedtoreekofwhatIassumeddeathwouldsmell like.TheclosestIhadbeentodeath,beforemyownbrushwithit,wasroadkill.Therotten,sour smellofraccoonandskunkhadalwaysstuckwithme,andthescentcomingoffthehorrific,ugly creatureinfrontofmewasathousandtimesworse.
Be not afraid, and all that nonsense.
Asthecreaturefloatedtowardsme,tarnishedskeletalarmsgrewfromthecenterofthe voidandreachedouttome.Theboneslookedliketheywereheldtogetherbystreamsofslick oil,theliquidsomehowarticulatingthearms.Iscrambledbackwards,nottakingasingle momenttoassessmyspotontheroof.Tonosurprise,Itrippedovertheedge,hittheground,and wasbackontheroof.OnlythistimeIhadacutonmylip.
I told you young lady. Be not afraid.
IcouldbelievewhatIwasseeing,butthatdidn'tmeanIhadtolikeit.Ichosetoignore thecreatureanditsvelvetydeepvoiceandwalkedtothedoor.Itiltedmyheaddownandtooka momenttolookatthescratchesonthepalmsofmyhandsandthebruisesonmywrists.Ihad brokenmywristoncewhenIwassixorseven,anditfeltawkwardandheavyasithealedup.My wristsandanklesandkneesfeltawkwardandheavyliketheyweretryingtoputthemselvesback together.AshadowformedovermeandIkeptwalking.Imadeadecisiontonotletthe apparitionorangelorwhateverthethingwasbotherme.Thesmellwormeditswayupmynose againandIfeltsomethingwetandheavyenvelopmybody.Ikeptwalkingthroughitagainand
again,feelingthicksludgesoakintomyclothesandthecutsinmyskin.Iopenedmymouthto screamagainandaclotthattastedlikerotteneggssliddownmythroat.Mystomachturnedto onebigknotandmythroatwentdry.Iwenttowipethegoopfrommyeyesandmorefoundits wayundermyeyelids.
Let me clean you up, child.
"Freakingdisgusting."Igroaned,shakingsomeoftheliquidoffmybody
Oncethegoowasremovedfrommyeyes,IopenedthemtoseethatIwasinchesaway fromthefoulsmellingcloudofeyeballs.Theyhadformedaconcernedfrownyface.Howsweet.
"Don'ttellme,"Ispatabitofredsludgefrommymouth,"thatthisisyourblood."
You tried to end your life but a little blood and guts is what gets to you?
ThetasteofeggscamebacktomythroatandIvomitedonmyshoes.Great.Iwas coveredincuts,bruises,blood,andnowpuke.Dyingwouldhavebeeneasierthanthetaskof gettingthe"bloodandguts"outofmyhairandclothesonceIgotthecreaturetogoaway I wipedmymouthandlookedbackupatthecreature.Myheartached,tiredandangry,andthe creatureseemedtotakenoteofmyattitude.Theeyesdidn'tchangeexpression,thebloodkept flowing,andthevoidkeptshootingsmokeintothesky.Somethinghadchanged.Itmusthave beenoneofthoselittlethingsthatthebraincanregister,butsosmallthattheeyecouldn't processitandcreateavisualcue.
Well, aren't you intelligent?
"Thanks."Itriedmybesttosoundthreatening,butmyvoicecameouthoarseandshaky
Imean,Iwasterrified.AllIcouldthinkaboutwasthebloodandvomitpoolinginmy shoesandthegutscoveringmefromheadtotoe.Thecreaturedidn’tcare,Icouldtell.
You are very welcome. What is your name?
"Who'sasking?"Irepliedquickly.EverytimeIopenedmymouthmoregoopfoundits wayinside.
You certainly have an attitude. You don't need to know my name, but I need to know yours. And if you choose not to tell me, then we'll both be stuck on this rooftop.
Ismiledthesamewayanywomansmilesatacreepyfigure,manornot.MaybeifI shriekedatitlikeapsychologicallydefectivebaboonitwouldgoaway.
That won't work.
Igroaned.Mybrotheralwayswarnedmenottogivemynameawaytostrangers,butit
wasn'tlikeIhadanythinglefttolose.
"MynameisStarshine."
Thedozensofeyesoccupyingthevoidshiftedintotheshapeofadisappointedfather figure’sfaceandthesmokefroze.Idroppedthesmileandtiltedmyhead.SomehowIhad managedtoconfusethestupid(andterrifying)creatureinfrontofme.Ifitwasconfusedlong enough,maybeIcouldsneakaway,Ithought.WhenIsteppedforward,thecreaturefloatedwith me,stillblockingmypath.
It has been so long since I've been around on the mortal plane, I didn't realize that people were back to giving their children heretical names. I expected yours to be something like Dorothy or Victoria based on your family's history.
Wellwasn'titsuchasassymonstrosity?DorothyorVictoria,whataloadofcrap.WhatI assumedwasanallpowerfulbeing,oratleastsomesortofhorror,hadnoknowledgeofme.If thatwerereallytruethenthethingwouldnothavebeenabletofindme.
Myskinwasragingatme,andthoughIcouldn'tseeitthroughthelayerofwetfilth coveringmybody,Icouldfeelhowredanditchyitwas.Thatcombinedwithhowsticky everythingwasandthesmellofvomit,Iwasoverloaded.Thecreaturemust'vesensedthattoo, becauseitslowlyfloatedoutofmypathandallowedmetomovetothedoor.Theliquidsbegan todryandflakeawayinlittlepieces,revealingmyskinstainedredandmybruisesstainedblack.
You’re welcome.
Ilookedovermyshoulderattheunmoving,unblinkingmassandsneered,"leaveme alone.”
Your brother told you about me. That much I know is true.
Iturnedslowlyandclenchedmyhands,mynailsdiggingintomypalms.IfIknewI wasn’tjustgoingtogetcoveredinwhatevermysteryslimewasflowingfromthecreature'seyes, Iwouldhavepunchedit.
“Shutupaboutmybrother.”
You have to get cleaned up or the stains will set in.
“I’mnotapieceofdrycleaning.”
No you are not.
Ithoughtaboutmybrotherandwhathewouldhavedone.Hewouldhavetriedtofight thecreature,orhewould’veatleastnegotiatedwithit.Hewould’vepushedupthesleevesofhis
shirtandshovedhisarmsintothecreature’svoidandpulledattheeyes,squishingtheprimordial oozeoutofthem.Thenthecreaturewouldleavemetodie.
No I wouldn’t have. Go get cleaned up. We have much to do. Isighedandbrushedmyhairoutofmyface,gettingmoreslimeundermyfingernails. “Fine.”