Beautiful Beings

Chapter 3

After I'd spent time studying, reading, writing, drawing, everything and anything I could manage to do in the dying light, I went for a walk.

I loved the stars, as you may have realised. I loved the way they were just there.  They didn't serve a purpose, they weren't created by anyone and they even lived in their own time zone, their own little world. I used to lay under the stars every night and try to count each one in the sky. Jacob would count them with me. We would make shapes and stories of star stealers that would try to take the stars we had collected. We were the star savers. We were a team. And he left me. Just another beautiful being gone bad.

As I walked, I listened to the whispers of the stars, listened as they sung and spoke to me. If I concentrated, I could hear the whistle of the wind and the singing of the stars and hear natures music made only for me. I breathed in the night air and gazed up at the black back- drop dotted with white flecks, like an abstract painting. The stars were my friends, too, I guess.

Tears clouded my vision, the corners of the sky folding inward until it was just a crumpled piece of paper in the book of my life. I imagined my fist reaching up and throwing the sky away so all my pages were blank, so I could start again. 

I dropped my head and swiped away the tears, I looked up and that's when I saw him. Bright against the dark night, wearing nothing but white clothing. Purity. That wasn't something I was used to. I was thankful for my wardrobe choice this morning, dark clothing that blended well with the black of the night. I just stood and stared, like the stalker I am. I mean, if you'd just seen a boy wearing only white climb over your garden fence, you'd be surprised too. As he turned to walk away, he almost ran straight into me. His eyes lit with fear and surprise, turning a cold, icy blue, harsh and ultra- violet. He looked utterly shocked to see me, as if he were the only person on this planet.

He'd now taken up my hobby of standing and staring, I was getting quite bored actually.

'White, purity? odd to see in Daintyville,' I spoke in a questioning tone. Yet again, he just stood as still as a statue, shocked to his very core. His eyes reminded me of a deers in the lights of an oncoming bus.

'Ok...' my voice dragged out the word for what felt like hours and then he finally spoke.

His voice quavered as he spoke the four words that filled me with the same fear his eyes held,

'You can see me?'