Anthological

the last beginning

406 words.

      00.  At the end of the day, the stars will still come out.

                 You just had an explosive fight with your parents. Anger's still bubbling and frothing through your veins, all red-hot and sparking, but when it comes down your eyelids it's just clear salty water slipping down your cheek. You stalk up to your room, making sure to stomp with every step, and finally just close your door with a bang. You can hear them arguing downstairs still, and all you want is some earplugs to block out the noise.

                You stay up there for what feels like hours, playing loud music and reading and doing everything except listen to the words being said downstairs. They're fighting loudly, about you, and you want them to stop and you want them to let you be and you want to sink into the bedsheets, disappearing from the world. It's no use; the words still ring loudly in your ears, reminding you of your mistakes, reminding you that they're fighting because of you and it's your fault, just like everything is. 

                    So you just stay locked up in your room until you really can't take it anymore, so you just get a pad of paper full of your words and climb up to the roof, barely managing not to disturb your parents in their verbal sparring. You lay down, staring up, and it's just enough light to see by but just enough night that you aren't immediately blinded by the brightness. Your breathing is coming in short, quick bursts and your eyes are welling up with tears, but the orange-purple-pink-red colours of the sky calms down your beating heart. 

 

                       If you turn your head, you'll see the sun setting, and if you tilt your head slightly up, you'll see the still translucent moon, not yet bright but clear enough to see. It's all colourful and beautiful and nice, and maybe you can just stay here for forever. Forever.

                         Later, the argument between the family will end, and an awkward sort of peace will begin. Later, your time on the roof with the clouds and the colours will end, and another talk with your parents will begin. Later, much, much later, your time in this house will end, and your time being independent will begin.

                            You'll do all of that later. But for now, the sunset ends with some last bursts of light and the stars begin to shine.