One word writing prompts: SIL

Word Eleven: Future [rf]

Just realised the word isn't even mentioned lmao- ITS FINEEE

Tw: Idk dead people? DEATH OMENS HAHA

Second person pov:

Songs I listened to:

https://youtu.be/gKP3RWdUeOk?si=tRz9XkQ2jaCBPR41

--ш--

Lying on the grass, you stare up at the night sky. The dark blue envelops you, giving you a sense of comfort. Small pinpricks of light seem to smile warmly at you.

You've always liked the stars.

Like the star on your country's flag, it calls to you.

You remember when you were young, you always snuck out of the house to do this exact thing. Your father would laugh and lie next to you, pointing out the constellations.

Orion.

Ursa Major.

Ursa Minor.

Ophicuchus.

Cygnus.

All of these are imprinted into your memory, and you lift a finger, drawing practiced lines, connecting one star to the next.

The stars are so beautiful. Your father had always taught you that they held the remains of people you loved, and that when you died, you'd join them in the stars.

You smile back up at the stars, where one in particular catches your eye.

"Привет, папа. (Hello, papa.)"

Привет, моя звезда. (Hello, my star.)

"Как дела? (How are you?)"

Хорошо спасибо. Как дела?  (Good, thanks. How are you?)

"Я устала. (I'm tired.)"

Почему? (Why?)

You tell him all about the research those scientists had been doing, and how they're close to a breakthrough. That means you'll finally get to meet your father again.

You can't wait.

However, the star frowns down at you. What's the problem, you wonder.

Это звучит небезопасно. (This sounds unsafe.)

You blink, staring up at the star.

"Почему? Они очень усдерно работали. (Why? They worked very hard.)"

The star turns.

Я знаю, но- (I know, but-)

"Это очень важно для меня, папа. (This is very important to me, papa.)"

A bird flies past, distracting both of you. Its wings black as night, it glides freely, blending in with the shadows. It lands on the windowsill of your house.

Понимаете? (See?)

You scoff lightly, but move to chase it away. Startled, it takes flight in a whirlwind of feathers, leaving one in your hand.

Tucking it into your palm, you look back up at the star.

"Папа? (Papa?)"

No answer. You guess he's gone to sleep.

"Пока, Папа. (Bye, Papa.)"

Всего хорошего. (All the best.)

--ш--

ITS SO SHORTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

I'M SORRY T-T

MY MOUSE WAS DYING THE ENTIRE TIME (I SPELT TIME WRONG T-T)