What does "THE FAULT IN OUR STARS" mean to you?

Sometimes The Universe Doesn't Screw Up - Prologue

By: xanaliewrites

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The thing she loved best about the sky was how the clouds looked like cotton candy.

During the day, they always looked so silky and pearly white but when the sunrise or sunset came, that’s when the magic happens. It’s like someone added touch of food colouring like the ones in her mother had in the kitchen cabinets. A sudden splash of pink, orange, red, purple, or yellow among the endless fiery yellow-orange canvas that spread above them, changing colours with the time.

Her mother would often watch the sunset with her when she was a kid. They would go up the little hill in the neighbourhood park and she always felt like she was climbing up Mount Everest with her short legs, trying to keep up with her mother.  They would lie down underneath the giant oak tree, side by side on the red polka-dotted picnic blanket. They wouldn’t say much really, they just watched the sky.

Her favourite thing about coming out to see the sunset was that it was never the same. Yesterday it could have been a soft mellow yellow, but today it could be a blazing orange.

It was always a surprise but also always beautiful, like a painter’s canvas. The fiery orange would blend into the blazing red, and melt into a roseate pink. And when the sun went to sleep down in the valleys, the livid purple and the electric blues would seep into the sky, spreading its colour across the canvas, and the stars would splatter the sky. It was a work of art, painted every day, again and again, each time more unique than the last.

“Mom,” she asked once, while they were lying down, trying to swat at the pesky mosquitoes that nipped at their legs. “Why does the sky have to have so many colours?” She turned to look at her mother, and her mother mirrored her. “Why can’t it just change from light to dark? Why can’t we see stars in the day? Why the orange and the red and the pink and the purple?” she counted the colours on her fingers as she spoke. Her mother smiled at her.

“You know something, Val?” her mother replied, rolling her tongue when she said her nickname. “That’s the first time I heard someone ask me why nature is like nature. No one really questions why nature is so beautiful; they just accept it. But you,” she said, her smile reaching the corners of her eyes, “You are something else.”

Val blinked back at her mother. “That doesn’t really answer my question, mum.”

“Valerie, look up,” she said, and Val did so. “Do you see the stars?” The sky was a beautiful blue-black colour, the clouds now dull and grey. She squinted her eyes, but she couldn’t see any of the shining diamonds. She shook her head. “They’re hiding, mum.”

“The stars are always there, watching down on us. They represent something. We can’t see them, because sometimes, people will try to hide their beauty.” She takes Val’s hand, pointing it to the vibrant orange. “The skies get darker, because we realise what they are trying to do. So we resist, and persist.” Her hand moves to the red streaks. “But they don’t want us to. They won’t. They will persuade us with screams and roars, and worse still, words soft and calm, whispering lies, feeding the darkness.” Her hand was consciously moving to the little pink rays of dying sunlight. Val remained silent, mesmerised by her mother’s words. Hearing her mother talk like this wasn’t unfamiliar; in fact, it was common. Valerie didn’t complain. She liked hearing her mother speak this way. It was the truth, and nothing but the truth.

“We have to make a choice. Stay, and let them blind us, or leave them behind, and reach for the stars.” The pink and red streaks have faded away, leaving a violent purple and blue sky that lay before them. “And when we do, Valerie,” she whispers softly. Valerie turns to her. “We can see them, the stars. We can se how clearly they shine. How they are calling to us, and how we are destined for them. And they are dazzling.”

Valerie looks at her mother for a long time before looking back to the sky. They are both quiet, and at last, Valerie breathes, “Wow.” The sunlight is now gone, and the silver moonlight shines down, illuminating the darkness. And then she sees them.

Brilliant little lights, flickering in the dark blue sky. Winking at her, smiling at her, calling to her. And the moon! It was so big, and round, but at the same time, not quite so. It was missing a little piece, looking more of a white glowing almond than a moon. And she could feel its rays of moonlight dancing on her skin, cool and soft. “Mom,” she whispers in excitement. “I can see them, mom. I can see the stars.”

She heard her mother exhale a laugh. “Everyone can see them, if they look long enough,” she replies softly. “But only few can reach out and touch them.”