One day, she climbed to the heavens on a metal ship, given from the star they call the sun and we call our friend.
She flew past whisps of puffy white, her face alight with accomplishment and the wonder of finally achieving.
We had filled her head with stars, and she had reached us. We could see her now, her eyes more fire-filled than we are.
She covered herself in bodies of our fallen comrades, our personalities sewn into a suit in which she could dance with us.
And dance she did, leaping and prancing, creaking out words for the world to hear.
Ones that we could hear, too.
Words of thanks.
YOU ARE READING
❁STARS❁
Short Story❁she ran away with us and we painted the night sky❁ first person plural because there is none
