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27 of 365

She stared at the night sky and wondered how starry the sky used to be ten years ago. The city lights weren’t so bright. The pollution was much lower. She would lay on her terrace and stare at them. They were screening a special show just for her.

When she stared at them long enough, it felt like they moved. Sometimes, she would talk to them. “I hope you can hear me,” she would begin, “I wanna talk to someone.” Her life was not falling apart or anything remotely depressing. But she felt if the stars could hear her, she could share a divine connection.

One day she said, “I wish for starrier skies. The more the number of stars, the more divine friends I have.” She heard a faint snap before a soft echo responded to her, “Stars so bright. Stars so fine. We are around. All the time.” Shocked, she assumed her mind was playing tricks. Suddenly she spotted a tiny boy sitting on top of a ball coming towards her. He was tinier than a speck and the ball under him only a little bigger than a golf ball.

“I heard. I came. I spoke,” he said.

“I don’t believe this,” she said wiping her eyes.

“Prince Sneaky is my name. To scare is my game,” he said. He even wore a robe, just like a prince!

She burst out laughing. He pulled out his wand and waved it. From its tip, what I imagine is fairy dust flew out.

“Have you cursed me or blessed me?” she asked.

“Neither. Control on my wand is sometimes lost,” he said.

She smiled at him and went back to staring at the stars. He flew near her head and hovered there. He hummed a song about a starry night as she drifted into deep slumber.

When she woke up, it was hours later and Sneaky was gone. After all she had heard somewhere that what is essential is invisible to the eye.

Or maybe he will sneak up on her again.


2 thoughts on “27 of 365

  1. You know as I was reading this I could spot some of the influences on this piece.. a little bit that article on the night sky in cities, some the little prince, of course mixed with a heavy dose of your wanderings 🙂 I was reading this oliver sacks paper which talks about how our truth is often more narrative than historical.. in the sense that story-telling is the most common method in which we made sense of our world. Maybe its a reflection of dissatisfaction with its current form that we write to expand our narratives to ourselves.

    I like the sheer tangents your stories are taking 🙂 Lots of variety!

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