Demon Stories: Vol. 2

Laika: Eater of Stars, Canadian Wilderness, 1958

Laika

Eater of Stars

Canadian Wilderness, 1958

I want to be a cloud of starlight. I am already a shooting star, wandering space forever. My dog and I, Laika, the same name.

There's no one out here. The night sounds are chirping loudly. Frogs, crickets, other things. Laika, the little white dog up to my knee. My blonde hair down to my knee. Laika, Laika, let's look for shooting stars. Laika, let's wish we were up there instead of here.

I named Laika for the dog who went up into space in my native land. Where is Laika? Where is Laika? I want to be Laika. Laika is dead, but I want to be Laika. My country is dead.

Laying in the grass. I hold Laika up above my face. Her curly white tail is not wiggling. She is staring down at me, the stars all around her. I can see the Milky Way, Laika. Can you see it in my eyes?

Out here, it is space. We're in space, because there's nothing here. Nobody to talk to. I can get lost in my thoughts, and Laika can be my friend.

I remember the days. Imperial Russia. I remember what happened to the Royal family. They were not my friends, but I loved them despite all their faults. I remember the ones before the last ones. Palace life. That was space. I did not know it, but the possibilities. There are endless possibilities in space. I was poor. I was starving. I saw their palace and thought about what was inside. They became my family only in that way. My imaginary family.

I had no trade. No hope.

But now I don't worry. We don't worry. There is no hunger. I eat rabbits, foxes. Anything I want to. It is like then, but there is no shame. Just a country with no country, as where I come from. I only eat animal, so I am more animal. If I eat a star, will I become more star?

I tried to eat a star. It was exhausting. I flew up there. I could not go past the atmosphere. I could not touch the stars I long for. I cannot reach my dream.

I wonder if the moon is made of cheese as they say. Or is it as where we are? Where I came from? Cold and empty. It would be familiar, in that way. I could live there, but Laika could not come with me. She is no space dog, unlike her namesake, my namesake.

"Laika, Laika," I whisper. She wiggles now. "Laika, Laika," I whisper more softly. I lower her to my face, and her fur touches me. She licks my nose with her small tongue.

I could be an imperial being. I could be an eater of stars. Snuff out their worlds as my world was snuffed. I could be a star, no longer shooting with no trajectory. I could.