Tag: Black Writer
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The Stars shine the brightest after The Moon completes her lunation. Goddess Taji is reminded of this while gazing at her crops during the next Sunrise. They stand tall, baring ripe fruit vibrant like wildflowers.
Taking note, the Divine Goddess sits on soil and works pieces of clay into distinct forms and figures. To her surprise, the unrestricted energy of The Stars from the night before brings to life one of Her most beloved creations, The Astral People.
The Astral People sow the seeds, build the structures, and are consistent in their work. What Goddess Taji loves most about them is their creativity. It begins when they unite to create a name for their new home: Khepri.
Though, most people today refer to it as Khei City.
Keeping up with tradition, the city’s inhabitants are known for their artistic and inventive nature. Murals of The Stars, The Bow and Arrow of Manifestation, and even The Divine Herself coats the sides of buildings the height of pine trees.
The minds of inventors buzz constantly as evident in the city infrastructure. To provide alternative means of travel, sections of pavement move all throughout Khei City. It’s a popular means of travel as one can take in the beautiful details that go into the décor for the original city.
It’s a shame that dark sand currently dusts streets no longer occupied by bustling city-dwellers. In fact, it feels almost like a ghost town, Clare notes as she drives down the main road. The longer she drives, the larger the piles of sand become.
“Meaning that people in this part of the city are probably the most neglected,” she surmises, pulling up to the curb in front of a two-story home. The front of the home is inaccessible as mounds of sand cover the front door and roof. Clare steps out of the car and straightens the nametag on her white lab coat.
While she scans over the home for a point of entry, a wavering voice calls out to her from behind the home. A walk around the corner reveals a short and stout woman with brown skin and salt n’ pepper curls. She stands with her hands clutched over her chest while her brow furrows with uncertainty.
With an extended hand, Clare smiles and says, “Good night Mrs. Watts, I’m Dr. Voss from Lunar Labs. I’m here to assess Mr. Herman Watts as we’ve received a report of his comatose state. May I come in?”
Mrs. Watts seems noticeably calmer once Clare shows identification and explains herself thoroughly. She takes Clare’s hand and shakes it. “Please, please. Come right in. Um, is it just you all on your own, Dr. Voss?”
“It sure is,” says Clare as she begins to rummage through her bag for a manila folder. “Is that a concern, Mrs. Watts?”
Mrs. Watts fixes her gaze on the floor timidly. “You are more than capable of doing your job, I’m sure. I only wish that they sent you in a pair. I thought that was standard practice for Lunar Labs.”
“It is,” Clare answers, “for clients under the new premium membership.”
“Oh,” she replies, stunned at first, then sullen. Then, Mrs. Watts perks up, “B-But, a young woman shouldn’t be here alone in the dead of night! And certainly without protection from The Stars!”
Clare smiles warmly at her concern. “How sweet of you, Mrs. Watts, but you don’t need to worry about me. I have means of keeping the three of us safe.”
Besides, Clare works better alone. It’s one of the reasons she volunteered to work with clients who can’t afford premium memberships despite some pushback from the lab. As she pulls out a few documents from the manila folder, Clare says to Mrs. Watts, “Let’s discuss how your husband fell into the Comatose State.”
“As you may know, my husband suffers from dementia. It just… crept up on him one day and our lives weren’t quite the same,” says Mrs. Watts somberly. “He was having another episode. He wanted to visit his grandfather but that man has been dead over 50 years ago. I never tell him though. He’d never be able to handle it.”
“Good call,” she nods, looking over Herman’s client info sheet. “So he was in a state of agitation before he fell?”
Mrs. Watts nods. “He was so angry that I kept making up excuses as to why he couldn’t see his grandfather. He wouldn’t let me touch him or guide him back to bed. Then, he slowed his pace, sat on the couch, and passed out. I couldn’t carry him upstairs and board the windows all at once so… the front of the house is ruined now.”
Clare blinks. “I’m sorry, you were the one that carried him to bed?” she asks in disbelief.
But… this woman is in her late 70s.
She smiles bashfully. “I was a 2-time wrestling champ back in my prime. Guess I still have a little something still left in the tank.”
“I suppose so,” says Clare, still in awe of Mrs. Watts’ physical abilities. “A shame about the front of the home though. I’ll talk to someone to get that fixed for you.”
“Even if we don’t have a premium membership?”
Clare looks at Mrs. Watts intently. “I’ll talk to someone to get that fixed for you,” she repeats.
Mrs. Watts doesn’t argue, nor does she question it.
“Now, I need to get some equipment from my car in order to get a look at Mr. Watts’ dream. Could you make sure he’s laying on his back?”
“Of course. You be careful going out there,” she warns.
Clare waves off her concern this time. “I won’t be long, Mrs. Watts.”
“Wait,” Mrs. Watts calls out just as Clare reaches the back door. “I don’t have to see his nightmare, do I? I… don’t think I can handle it,” she says in a small voice.
Clare turns to see the woman with her gaze cast down to the floor again. She does her best to smile because, while she’s not the biggest people-person, she feels for Mrs. Watts and her situation.
Her insight would be helpful, but Clare will manage without it for now.
Somehow.
“No, you don’t need to see anything you don’t want to. That’s my job.”
Mrs. Watts manages a weak smile while Clare heads out to her car for equipment. When she looks up, a single Star twinkles in The Fabric of The Sky. She stares at it for a while.
Quietly, Clare prays aloud, “If you can hear me, please provide my clients some peace tonight. Thank you.”
© 2022 Wayfaring Dreams
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The Fabric of The Sky is ever-changing as it has a unique relationship with both The Astral Paradise and The Realm of No Restriction. It changes color endlessly, but only in accordance with The Sun. It’s textile alters itself to puffer quilt before it rains and transforms into silk right after. The Fabric of The Sky is home to The Stars, the windows into The Realm of No Restriction.
However, the windows are not always reliable as the curtains find a way to obscure them. The Astral People and The Descendants of The Stars adopt Goddess Taji’s solution for this; to launch arrows into the night sky. Now, The Night of the Shooting Stars is the biggest holiday celebrated in The Astral Paradise. It’s a grand opportunity to wish for sweet dreams.
Maia looks through her bedroom window longingly, watching the shooting stars soar through the sky. She closes her eyes to pray at some moments. During others, she stares at the sky doubtfully.
“The Stars probably don’t even hear those kinda prayers,” Maia grumbles.
“Don’t hear what kinda prayers?”
Maia turns around, surprised to see Malik standing in the doorway to her bedroom. He stands almost as tall as the doorframe and is dressed in muted, comfortable clothing perfect for bed. Seeing him here at this time of night means that Thalia is putting baby Alicia to bed.
Maia’s lips curl into a frown before turning back to the window near her bedside. “Nothing, it’s not that important anyway.”
Malik raises an eyebrow skeptically before plopping himself down on the edge of her bed. A few of the stuffed animals come tumbling down.
She turns to scold him for it, but Malik says, “Why do you think The Stars can’t hear your prayers? The Stars hear all prayers.”
“They do?” Maia asks skeptically.
He nods. “Did… your parents not tell you?”
Maia shrugs. “It’s not that they didn’t tell me, but I guess it just never came up. Everyone wishes for dreams, so I didn’t think they listened to anything else.”
“What did you want The Stars to hear?” he asks.
She looks down at heart patterned sheets with a troubled expression. “I want Daddy to be here.”
Her words pain him, but Malik throws a look of sympathy her way. “That makes two of us.”
Maia furrows her brow, confused. “You can just call your dad, can’t you?”
He laughs. “I meant your dad. I wish he was here too.”
“So that you don’t have to babysit me?” she asks with a bitter tongue. Guilt pricks her when she watches Malik’s smile falter.
“Did we make you feel that way?” he asks, worriedly. “I know things have been a little hectic with the new baby, but me n’ Thalia–”
“Ugh, that’s what I mean,” she huffs, arms raised in frustration. “You guys have your own lives. You guys should’ve went to the festival or something, but instead, you have to stay here with me. Doesn’t that get annoying?”
Malik looks at her for a moment with an expression she’s unable to read before she feels a calloused hand ruffle mint hair on the top of her head. “What’re you being silly for? ‘Course it doesn’t. Not when you do it for friends, at least.”
“Friends, huh?” Maia repeats.
“Of course. That’s why I wish he was here with us too,” says Malik. “And since there’s two of us, I bet The Stars’ll hear us better than if one of us asks.”
Purple eyes light up in excitement for a moment before Maia frowns and eyes him with a healthy dose of skepticism. “Oh yeah? Just two voices? I’m not a kid no more, Malik.”
“First of all, you most certainly still are a kid; two digits don’t make you an adult,” Malik says frankly. “And second, why not two voices? You were okay with just one a moment ago.”
As she struggles to think about what she has to lose, Malik takes hold of her hand. “C’mon. Let’s go look at The Stars in the backyard.”
She doesn’t fight him as he leads her to the yard illuminated by The Stars soaring through the night sky. They flash bright like fireworks and make melodic sounds like harps when they launch.
Maia and Malik stand hand in hand while blades of grass tickle bare feet. Their eyes gaze hopefully at The Fabric of The Sky while they pray for the safe return of The Sandman.
When they finish, Maia turns to Malik and asks, “Do you think it’ll happen? Do you really think he’ll come?”
“I do.”
“Before my 12th birthday?”
Malik grimaces. “Weeeell…”
“Then when?” Maia insists.
“I dunno when, but it’ll happen. Just like your opinion on pudding. You’ll come to love it someday,” he sighs.
Maia scoffs. “It’s not the same; you don’t know nothin’ about nothin’!”
“Nuh-uh, that’s not true,” he argues. “I know it’s time for bed.”
She groans in protest, but Malik hears none of it as he guides her back to the deck. Feet are cleansed thoroughly before stepping back inside of the home. Maia snuggles underneath soft blankets and looks over to Malik standing at the door.
“I know you can see the stars from here, and it’s super exciting, but don’t stay up too late. We gotta up early tomorrow. Heading to the market.”
“Yeah, I know, I know,” Maia says almost dismissively.
Malik smirks. “Mhmm, we’ll see if you’ll know to get up on time. Otherwise, I’m leaving you.”
“I’ll be up, I promise–!”
“Shhh!” Malik hisses. “The baby, remember?”
“I’ll be up, I promise,” she whispers this time.
Malik nods. “You better. Goodnight, Maia.”
“Goodnight, Malik.”
The door closes behind Malik with a soft “click”. The Stars catch Maia’s eyes once more, twinkling prettily in the sky. She closes her eyes, praying aloud:
“If you can hear me, please talk to my mom. Tell her none of this is Daddy’s fault. Maybe she’ll listen to you instead.”
© 2022 Wayfaring Dreams
Wayfaring Dreams 