When The Stars Died

Skeeter and Pandora

At night, I like to watch the stars, cos it's the only time I can get away from my little sis, Jackie, who always calls me Mosquiter 'stead of Skeeter and still hasn't figured out how to climb the roof, and is also asleep as of now, plus she's a right pain in m' ass.
This may be a little girly, but stars are my favourite thing in the whole world. They're all sparkly and small but bright, and they just keep shinin', throughout the whole night. Resilient, I think the word is? Sometimes I like to think I could be a star, just keep on goin', keep on puttin' on, like a train.
This is definitely girly, but I almost think of stars as my idols. Some people got them dumb celebrities, but here I am, lookin' up at the stars and worshippin' 'em.
And stars are resilient, too, and heaps of people say they're here for ever and ever-oh. Oh. This should not be happenin'. My stars are blinking, like a faulty light. Blink. Blink.
Twice. And then, all at once, all my idols disappear, with only the moon up there.
Shit.

...

My name is Pandora Cordelia Roberts, and I'm a worldwide champion in Female's Lightweight Boxing, Female's Under 16 Gymnastic and Female's Under 16 Swimming.
But when I'm away from all the glitz and glamour, I like to lay on our double story house's roof and watch the stars twinkling like little diamonds studded in the velvet night.
So I'm lying there, thinking about my next competition (Grovedale State Gymnastic's Tournament, in which I will be competing in three Under 16 sections) when my beloved stars begin to blink.
I brush it off-it's probably my eyesight failing, I hope I don't need glasses?
Then they blink again, and I look at my watch to see if I can see that clearly, which I can.
And then my stars, all my beautiful stars, wink out, and the night sky is blank, with only the moon to keep it company, which is starting to look like a huge circular blemish.