'I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.'
she was dreaming of drowning. her arms and legs were thrashing helplessly, causing the dark blue water to churn. she opened her mouth, involuntarily swallowing water. soon her thrashing slowed down and the water seemed to become darker and more heavy as it pressed down on her, trying to erase her very existence.
her eyes snapped open and she sucked in a huge breath of air, still in that place where rational thoughts couldn't reach. the beating of heart and the sweat trickling down her face brought the realization that it was just another nightmare, that she wasn't really drowning. she pulled her knees up to her chest and concentrated on relaxing herself.
it would take some time for the feeling of breathlessness to fade away and when it finally did, she wouldn't be able to fall asleep. she accepted her fate, decided to get up and find her canvas.
painting had always been her escape. she had been finding refuge in paint brushes and pencils and markers since she was a child. when the nightmares started, she found it easier to deal with them if she painted them.
she drew her silhouette in the middle of the page and proceeded to paint everything around it with the darkest blue paint she had. the vast emptiness of the water seemed to make her look almost as vulnerable as she had felt. but no matter how hard she tried, she could never capture panic she had felt caused by the terrible knowledge that she couldn't breathe and was slowly dying.
maybe that was the reason she liked painting what she had seen in the nightmares, because then the fear could be confined to two-dimesional figures. the terror she felt while thinking of the dream usually reduced when she looked at the painting it had inspired.
when she was done, she rinsed the brushes and palette and put her painting in a corner in the balcony attached to her tiny flat. just before she could walk into the comfort of her room, her eyes fell on the spread of stars across the clear summer sky.
she was mesmerized by the view and as she was leaning across the rickety railing, an urge to find as many constellations as she could overtook her. since she believed in giving in to her urges, she put on her shoes and walked out of her house. the field nearby would be perfect for the job, so she found herself walking through the long grass and craning her neck to the sky.
she managed to spot the big dipper, scorpius and the archer. she couldn't recall the name of one particular constellation but just when she was about to give up and continue walking, a voice gave her the answer.
"perseus," a man sitting under a tree announced. "the hero."
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A.N - So this is going to be a short story written in lower case. I hope you like it.
P.S - Did you get the symbolism of having the hero of the story point out a constellation of a Greek hero?
Dedicated to syrabite because she tried making me covers and is probably still doing so. If she's reading this - don't worry, I need banners too!
