A new story based on the words Starlight, Stare and Superfluous. “Star light, star bright…”
Amy knelt before the window with her cuddly tiger clutched in her arms. Her hands were gripped together below her chin, and she stared up at the stars, even though a part of her knew that she should be keeping her eyes down. She whispered as she knelt, knowing that she was supposed to be in bed. Her parents had already been and said goodnight, and after that she wasn’t supposed to leave her bed unless it was important. “First star I see tonight…” What her parents didn’t understand, of course, was that this was important. More important than anything else she did during the day. School was important. Playing was important. Reading was important. There were lots of important things in her day, but this was the most important. Somehow, they never seemed to understand. “I wish I may, I wish I might…” Friends were important too, and they at least agreed that the nightly wish on the wishing star was important. They understood, in ways her parents never could. Somehow, she thought that her parents didn’t believe it would help. It seemed like they’d stopped wishing for things a long time ago. Amy thought that was sad. She thought that everybody should have wishes. “Have this wish I wish tonight.” And if you were big enough to pull the curtains back and see the wishing star, that was even better. That meant that your wish would definitely come true. Maybe not soon, but one day it would. Everybody knew that – any wish made on a wishing star, if you said the wishing rhyme, would come true one day. “I wish…” Well – there were other rules as well, but they weren’t a problem. The wish mustn’t be a selfish one, but that wasn’t a problem that Amy had ever had. Of course, like all little girls, she was sometimes naughty, and sometimes she forgot to think about other people. But never when she was making a wish. Wishes were important. Besides, she didn’t need to make selfish wishes. She had everything she could want. She had a mummy and a daddy that loved her and told her so every day. She had lovely toys – admittedly, some of them were old, and they’d been loved by other children first, but they were still very fun. They had food, and she always had enough – though she was small, and that wasn’t too hard. She sometimes wondered if her parents had enough – they were much bigger than her. No – any wish for herself would be completely superfluous. She’d heard that word at school, and when she asked what it meant, the teacher had told that it described something that you didn’t need, because you already had enough. No – there was no need for selfish wishes. “I wish that mummy and daddy could find their happiness again.” She was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to know that they weren’t happy – they always tried to hide it from her, but she’d heard them crying sometimes at night, when she woke up and needed something. She always sorted herself out, because she knew that they didn’t want her to know. Daddy was always around the house these days, which was lovely. But it seemed to make him sad. And daddy being sad made mummy sad. But they always smiled when they saw her, and she was always sure to smile back. She was pretty sure that if you didn’t talk about the sad, it couldn’t get you. And so, they didn’t. But still, every night, she wished that they could be happy again. And as the starlight shone down on her, she smiled to herself because she knew that someday they would. And then they’d all be happy. Maybe then she would tell them that she had wished for it every night. Maybe. She pulled the curtains closed and got into bed, still hugging the tiger tightly. It wasn’t long before the memory of the starlight sent her off to sleep.
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Flash FictionSome shorter fiction, usually based on some kind of challenge. Archives
October 2021
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