I haven't written here in quite a while, so I thought it'd be interesting to share a short story I've just written. It's one-part creative outlet and another-part self-commentary -- generally, interesting. Please be kind.
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Anxiety & The Universe
by Chantille Millena
There is
darkness here and stillness, but when she wakes, there are stars.
Stars so
colourful, so magnificent -- a vast sea as far as the eye can see and
beyond. And she is among them. She hears it here, the pounding in her
ears, but it's oh so faint. Dream of your star. Reach for your
star. Her star -- her magical,
twinkling ball of promise, waiting for her and her alone to find it.
Happiness is here and together they sing and dance for hours on the
constellations. With renewed excitement, she begins the journey. She
cannot see it yet and she knows it will take some time but she has a
pocketful of bright, shiny dreams to keep her company.
Go forward.
The way is
long and time moves too slowly. After running blindly for what feels
like an eternity, she stops on the nearest moon to catch her breath.
Her path is lost and her dreams grow dim. Sadness is here, fingers
intertwined with Anger. They stare her down with bitter cold eyes and
extinguish her pocketful of dreams entirely. She hears it here too, the
pounding in her ears, and it's oh so thunderous. Give up on your
star. Your star is too bright for you.
She tries to move on but their taunts are magnetic, and her run soon
turns into a crawl so languid her feet might have been made of the
darkest molasses.
Lie still.
And
then she sees it -- her star, just a tiny dot on the horizon, miles
away but within sight. She tears away and reaches for it. And then
she sees everything in between -- light years of endless, eternal
space and time -- and she's afraid. Fear is here and it erupts into
flames that roar and cackle like monsters before her. You'll
never reach your star. You don't deserve your star. She
pulls her fragile hands close. She isn't certain if the fires are
truly there or just in her mind but she's been hurt too many times
before. She wants to push past it but the blistering pain still burns
in her memory. And she can do nothing. Her pocketful of stardust
dreams feed the flames, growing massive, more volatile, creating a
wall that obscures and swallows her little star whole.
Turn
back.
She runs
backwards -- back away from the flames, back past the moon, back
along the constellations, and back into the dark. Here she waits, and
breathes, and listens. She is alone but she doesn't hear it here, the
pounding in her ears. Only a faint and thunderous nothing.
There is no star. There never was a star. She no longer runs,
no longer fears, no longer dreams, she simply waits. She slowly curls
up and lays to rest. Blanketed in an empty peace and quiet, she finds
sleep.
There is
darkness here and stillness, but when she wakes, there are stars.
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ALSO, I posted it on HitRECord (http://www.hitrecord.org/records/1678348) for those of you who are aware of and involved with the open collaborative production company. If not, I suggest you check it out.
Until next time,
See you on the flipside.
~ Chantille ~
