Upon A Star

Chapter 1

Once upon a star, there was a girl, a beautiful girl. With flowers – pastel purple, baby pink and white – decorated in her long silky blonde hair. This maiden was locked in a tower, a tall and lonely tower. Isolated from society with only one window, allowing for her to peek out and get the slightest glance of the outside world was not enough.

She was locked away, and she was alone and bored most of the time. So she spent her long hours by mastering the arts. With a delicate paintbrush in hand, and beautifully coloured paints, she completed her days by painting on the walls; she painted her dreams, her fantasies, her hope and her desire to be free.

"That's it honey, pose. Gorgeous-gorgeous," the photographer clicked and the camera lens blinked in admiration of Celeste.

Placing a hand on her hips, her lips pouting and her eyes flirting with the camera. This was her reality, one pose after the next – serious, smiling, flirtatious with a hint of sexy. But she wanted more for her life; she wanted freedom and genuine happiness.

Her eyelashes batted and flattered like butterfly wings in the direction of the French photographer. He twirled his pitch-black moustache with his index finger in awe of Celeste; she was the perfect model, the perfect girl. She barely needed retouching, barely needed makeup. She hated that people looked at her as if she was an item, something beautiful to look at.

People kept commenting at her beauty, how her skin was like porcelain, flawless and natural. But people failed to see the deep cracks that hid beneath, sadness sipping in the invisible cracks that people failed to notice. Just like porcelain, which can be broken, so was she – a broken, porcelain doll. Flawless on the outside, but shattered on the inside.

She was tired from the long photo-shoot. Hours and hours of one pose after the other, hoping that her shots wouldn't show the sad that lived in her eyes.

Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table; wrinkles mapped the corner of her eyes. She looked exhausted, and sad.

She sat beside her lonely mother and took her hand, her mother's eyes lifted and she looked into her daughter's eyes. Their eyes identical, both filled with a hidden misery.

"How was work?" She released her daughter's hand and settled it on her hot cup of tea instead. Her fingers wrapped around the mug, taking in its warmth as a sense of comfort.

"Tiring," Celeste exhaled the weakness out of her body. Her eyes burned and she urgently needed the sleep she was lacking.

"You should get some rest," her mother smiled a comforting smile and Celeste nodded in agreement. She simply could not afford to miss some extra hours of sleep or rest.

Lazily, she walked up the endless stairs. It only took her one-minute, but to her, it felt like hours. Her exhaustion was taking its toll on her; her legs felt like they were about to give up at any moment. She felt as if she would crumble on the ground, her head felt heavy and she was worried that it might just snap off her body.

Slumping her body in her soft bed was the highlight of her day, but the uttermost peak was when she grabbed the book that was permanently sitting on her nightstand. She flipped through the pages until she reached the page with a crease folded on top. Right where she left off.

She painted the stars – golden and silver and twinkling in the dark night sky. She wanted to dance with them rather than remain locked in this prison of a home. Her only companion: her books and the stars painted on the walls. Oh, how she longed to see the stars up close and personal. She dreamed of how they would twinkle and dance amongst the moon. The great big pearl that sat, caring and protecting the little stars.

The stars shined almost every night, but rumour had it, that the stars shined brighter than ever near the palace. The palace was situated in the distance and a blanket of black with silver sequins that were stars clung above it. The majestic palace had lights and flags and all things royal, but she could barely make out the details. It was too far away, too out in the open – it wasn't abandoned like she was.

She drifted off in a far, far away land – a land of freedom. Her eyelashes gave up to the exhaustion, her anxious heart slowed down and she was asleep. She was dreaming of greatness, she dreamt of love. She hoped that one day, she would find someone to sweep her off her feet. Preferably he would arrive with a white stallion, but when she wakes up, she'll realise that prince charming doesn't exist. Perhaps in fairytales and dreams, but in reality, he's far, far away – in a completely different land.

Dreaming of stars gave her the elation that she almost forgot. She dreamt away the drunken mother that was supposed to be nurturing her, she dreamt of how her father would've looked like – she tried putting the pieces together like a constellation of stars, joining one star after the other to create his face.

Like a jigsaw puzzle, pieces were missing, so she left it at incomplete. Would he have had the same blonde hair like her? Would he have minimal freckles on a little nose, like her? What about his eyes? Would they be as green as hers? Would he be tall? Or short?

The imagination, the artist inside of her trying to fix the puzzle made her dizzy. She thought she was falling into a deep black hole of nothing, her eyes shot open and she clung for dear life.

Her fingernails pierced the mattress and her chest swelled up as she gasped. Heavy pants – inhale, exhale, inhale, and exhale. She worried that the oxygen around her was going to run out.

So she tried to breath slower to relax, her racing heart, her burning cheeks and her stiff fingers that almost created holes in the once flawless mattress.

"Sweetie, are you ok? I heard a scream?" Her mother barged in with flecks of red dotting her once calm eyes.

For a second or two, Celeste wondered, where did she hear screaming? But her thought was quickly interrupted as she felt her tears dry on her cheekbones. Oh, the scream came from me.