[This frightens her - and she hasn't felt truly frightened in quite a while. She's been so strong, but this request might be too much. She trembles, an aspen in the wind. Can she tell him a story? He's the storyteller. He spins tales into truths. Not her.]
[But maybe this is her ultimate test. Maybe this is her second graduation. If she can do this, if she can teach Ben as Ben taught her, maybe--]
[Maybe nothing. It's not about her. It's about him, helping him to understand.]
[She takes a deep breath and steps across the room to sit carefully on the edge of the trunk. Folding her hands in her lap, she looks up at him, watches him until he gets as settled as he's going to get.]
[Then she begins.]
There was a girl who was a bright star. People circled her like planets, seeking her warmth. She didn't feel very warm to herself, in the same way that when you tickle yourself, it doesn't really tickle, so she didn't understand. She was also too bright to tell the difference between people like planets and people who, like her, were stars. The light of her own arms and legs and soul blocked out the light of bright stars and dark stars, keeping her all alone and feeling very small.
There were two satellites, a planet and a star, that circled closest to her. The planet was just a planet; the star was dark-hearted. That dark star tried to eat her up, to absorb her heat and her brightness and make itself bigger. But she did not die. More stars came - bright and dark - one muddy star, a swirl of light and dark, swallowing the first dark star, and one, the biggest and darkest star of all, pulling them all closer and inexorably closer until all of a sudden, it was the center of the universe. The center of everything.
It wanted to eat her up, too. And it did: gobbled her up and gained her power, though her strength barely made a dent in that dark star. It used her as fuel and left her behind.
When she emerged onto the other side of the universe, this bright star found there were no more planets. There were only stars, bright and dark and in between. They were all dead, just like her, but they seemed to pulse with life all the same. She was angry, burning hot, and she tried to burn the stars around her. Some of them became angry, too, and tried to burn her back. But one of them swallowed her anger and gave her soft light in return, of a new timbre that she felt through her whole body. He had been devoured, too, once upon a time, all his light extinguished; but he learned how to make it again.
She was so dim for such a long time. She thought she would never shine again. But this other star was quiet and kind and patient; her anger didn't make him angry; he just circled her until she began circling him, too. And then slowly, ever so slowly, she felt her light shine again.
They shone together. Two stars, with reclaimed light, pushing up close against the darkness but never passing over into it. Neither good nor bad - just bright.
no subject
[But maybe this is her ultimate test. Maybe this is her second graduation. If she can do this, if she can teach Ben as Ben taught her, maybe--]
[Maybe nothing. It's not about her. It's about him, helping him to understand.]
[She takes a deep breath and steps across the room to sit carefully on the edge of the trunk. Folding her hands in her lap, she looks up at him, watches him until he gets as settled as he's going to get.]
[Then she begins.]
There was a girl who was a bright star. People circled her like planets, seeking her warmth. She didn't feel very warm to herself, in the same way that when you tickle yourself, it doesn't really tickle, so she didn't understand. She was also too bright to tell the difference between people like planets and people who, like her, were stars. The light of her own arms and legs and soul blocked out the light of bright stars and dark stars, keeping her all alone and feeling very small.
There were two satellites, a planet and a star, that circled closest to her. The planet was just a planet; the star was dark-hearted. That dark star tried to eat her up, to absorb her heat and her brightness and make itself bigger. But she did not die. More stars came - bright and dark - one muddy star, a swirl of light and dark, swallowing the first dark star, and one, the biggest and darkest star of all, pulling them all closer and inexorably closer until all of a sudden, it was the center of the universe. The center of everything.
It wanted to eat her up, too. And it did: gobbled her up and gained her power, though her strength barely made a dent in that dark star. It used her as fuel and left her behind.
When she emerged onto the other side of the universe, this bright star found there were no more planets. There were only stars, bright and dark and in between. They were all dead, just like her, but they seemed to pulse with life all the same. She was angry, burning hot, and she tried to burn the stars around her. Some of them became angry, too, and tried to burn her back. But one of them swallowed her anger and gave her soft light in return, of a new timbre that she felt through her whole body. He had been devoured, too, once upon a time, all his light extinguished; but he learned how to make it again.
She was so dim for such a long time. She thought she would never shine again. But this other star was quiet and kind and patient; her anger didn't make him angry; he just circled her until she began circling him, too. And then slowly, ever so slowly, she felt her light shine again.
They shone together. Two stars, with reclaimed light, pushing up close against the darkness but never passing over into it. Neither good nor bad - just bright.
[She breathes in, out. Gives a brittle smile.]
Just bright.