northern star
i can hear her whispers in every breeze that combs through my fur. the wind is reminiscent of her gentle touch. when i turn my gaze to the night sky, i see her eyes reflected in the soft glow of the ever sparkling stars. sometimes i think i’ve caught her scent in the rain, and for a moment i forget she’s no longer with me. and when i recall her beauty, her kindness, it feels as if i’ve only just seen her. that i’ve only just lost her.
we met when the leaves were just starting to wilt, ready to drop to the ground before winter.
i remember the first time that she noticed there was something different about me. or, at least, the first time she said anything.
we met when the leaves were just starting to wilt, ready to drop to the ground before winter.
i remember the first time that she noticed there was something different about me. or, at least, the first time she said anything.
she told me that silver fur complimented me well, that it looked like glimmering moonlight.
if i was her moon, she was my northern star. she was so bright, she lit the path ahead of me. i could always look to her for guidance.
i suppose i knew from the beginning how bad of an idea it all was. i knew that, realistically, this story would end in tragedy. i knew that she didn’t wish to leave me, but it was inevitable that one day, i would be alone again.
it took a few years for her to comment on my lasting youth. she was still young, but visibly more mature. i, on the other hand, hadn’t aged a day. when i hesitated to answer her qualms, she didn’t pressure me. never again did she bring up the subject, not even when creases began to appear under her eyes and still i looked just the same as when she first met me.
sometimes, she would sit at the edge of the forest and stare out at the fields beyond. somewhere along the horizon, there was civilization. people. socialization. things that i had never experienced, and things that she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. i would tell her that she should travel to town for a while, but then she would ask if i could possibly follow. usually, i remained silent, and so she would smile and shake her head. she never did leave my side.
i think when we met, she was always trying not to stare at the halo that circled my head. she asked if i was an angel, or a descendent of one. she said that it wasn’t too uncommon for such kalons to walk the earth. i couldn’t give her an answer, because i wasn’t entirely sure myself. i think she knew sooner than i that i was no angel, but something more powerful, and something many times more restricted.
i don’t know why she ever chose to stay with me. i had known that this story would end in tragedy. eventually, she came to know this as well. but it was different for her and i. she would leave me, and because she’d be gone, she wouldn’t miss me. but i was not as fortunate. i would remain on the earth, and every day i would be plagued by memories of her.
she had realized this at some point. sometimes, i could see the sullen look in her eyes as she watched me. i would grin, and distract her with conversation, to take her mind of what was to come. she mustn’t worry about me.
on her final day, she apologized to me. she said that she was sorry that she couldn’t stay longer. she was sorry that she was leaving me alone, and she was going to cause me to grief. she didn’t want me to be sad. i tried not be sad, for her, but she knew. she always knew. she was the first to cry. even then, wound up in so many emotions, i recall wondering how she was so selfless. her time was ticking, dwindling faster than ever, but she only cared to make sure that i would be okay.
she had grown old. her fur had been duller, and the corners of her eyes drooped. she still had the most beautiful smile, and that’s the last thing she ever did: smile.
she had told me before, on multiple occasions, that i deserved to be happy, and thus i had to forget her someday. i should move on, she would say. i should find another someone to love. but then she would give a nervous laugh and joke that maybe she would just come back. as a ghost, maybe, or as another person. she was never very religious, nor did she often think about life after death, but she liked to consider the concept or reincarnation. she liked the idea that no matter what, we would one day meet again. she figured that any future reincarnations of herself would be just as attracted to this forest as she had been in this life.
i would brush it off, refuse to get my hopes up, but i wished with all my heart that she was right.
when she was no longer with me, i often found myself watching the outskirts of the forest, just as she had. but i was not looking for what she had been searching. i was looking for a person, someone, anyone, a figure in the distance headed my way. rarely did i see anything. when i did, my chest would constrict. i couldn’t breathe, the anticipation was so strong.
but it was never her.
so long passed that i had began to doubt that i would ever see her again. i stopped watching for visitors. i stopped hoping that she’d appear one day. i still thought about her constantly, but it had finally hit me that she was not alive. for so long, it hadn’t felt like she was actually, truly, dead. i hated that word. i refused to think it. but slowly i came to terms with it.
it was an odd day when i awoke to a familiar voice. feminine and flowy. i could quite place it. she was mumbling until she noticed i had opened my eyes, and suddenly she look flustered. i, too, felt myself grow anxious. the details were different. there were many less freckles, her eyes were just a tad narrower, her fur a bit longer. the voice then clicked with the face, and it was then that i knew. she began to ask if we had met, but when she finally met my eyes, she fell silent. just as she always had known everything back then, she knew here too.
“gar?”
if i was her moon, she was my northern star. she was so bright, she lit the path ahead of me. i could always look to her for guidance.
i suppose i knew from the beginning how bad of an idea it all was. i knew that, realistically, this story would end in tragedy. i knew that she didn’t wish to leave me, but it was inevitable that one day, i would be alone again.
it took a few years for her to comment on my lasting youth. she was still young, but visibly more mature. i, on the other hand, hadn’t aged a day. when i hesitated to answer her qualms, she didn’t pressure me. never again did she bring up the subject, not even when creases began to appear under her eyes and still i looked just the same as when she first met me.
sometimes, she would sit at the edge of the forest and stare out at the fields beyond. somewhere along the horizon, there was civilization. people. socialization. things that i had never experienced, and things that she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. i would tell her that she should travel to town for a while, but then she would ask if i could possibly follow. usually, i remained silent, and so she would smile and shake her head. she never did leave my side.
i think when we met, she was always trying not to stare at the halo that circled my head. she asked if i was an angel, or a descendent of one. she said that it wasn’t too uncommon for such kalons to walk the earth. i couldn’t give her an answer, because i wasn’t entirely sure myself. i think she knew sooner than i that i was no angel, but something more powerful, and something many times more restricted.
i don’t know why she ever chose to stay with me. i had known that this story would end in tragedy. eventually, she came to know this as well. but it was different for her and i. she would leave me, and because she’d be gone, she wouldn’t miss me. but i was not as fortunate. i would remain on the earth, and every day i would be plagued by memories of her.
she had realized this at some point. sometimes, i could see the sullen look in her eyes as she watched me. i would grin, and distract her with conversation, to take her mind of what was to come. she mustn’t worry about me.
on her final day, she apologized to me. she said that she was sorry that she couldn’t stay longer. she was sorry that she was leaving me alone, and she was going to cause me to grief. she didn’t want me to be sad. i tried not be sad, for her, but she knew. she always knew. she was the first to cry. even then, wound up in so many emotions, i recall wondering how she was so selfless. her time was ticking, dwindling faster than ever, but she only cared to make sure that i would be okay.
she had grown old. her fur had been duller, and the corners of her eyes drooped. she still had the most beautiful smile, and that’s the last thing she ever did: smile.
she had told me before, on multiple occasions, that i deserved to be happy, and thus i had to forget her someday. i should move on, she would say. i should find another someone to love. but then she would give a nervous laugh and joke that maybe she would just come back. as a ghost, maybe, or as another person. she was never very religious, nor did she often think about life after death, but she liked to consider the concept or reincarnation. she liked the idea that no matter what, we would one day meet again. she figured that any future reincarnations of herself would be just as attracted to this forest as she had been in this life.
i would brush it off, refuse to get my hopes up, but i wished with all my heart that she was right.
when she was no longer with me, i often found myself watching the outskirts of the forest, just as she had. but i was not looking for what she had been searching. i was looking for a person, someone, anyone, a figure in the distance headed my way. rarely did i see anything. when i did, my chest would constrict. i couldn’t breathe, the anticipation was so strong.
but it was never her.
so long passed that i had began to doubt that i would ever see her again. i stopped watching for visitors. i stopped hoping that she’d appear one day. i still thought about her constantly, but it had finally hit me that she was not alive. for so long, it hadn’t felt like she was actually, truly, dead. i hated that word. i refused to think it. but slowly i came to terms with it.
it was an odd day when i awoke to a familiar voice. feminine and flowy. i could quite place it. she was mumbling until she noticed i had opened my eyes, and suddenly she look flustered. i, too, felt myself grow anxious. the details were different. there were many less freckles, her eyes were just a tad narrower, her fur a bit longer. the voice then clicked with the face, and it was then that i knew. she began to ask if we had met, but when she finally met my eyes, she fell silent. just as she always had known everything back then, she knew here too.
“gar?”