Stars. That's the only thing I remember. Little bright lights in the sky with a black background behind them. And no matter how far I extend my hand, they are always just out of reach. Even if I close my eyes, I can still see their brilliant light. Just me, them, and the dark backdrop of night. I like to imagine that they move across the sky because they are on a journey. Sometimes I imagine them as little warriors, trying to defeat the dark, empty, blackness of space with their light. Other times I think of them as explorers, trying to find the edge of space, and the glory that comes with it. I like the stars. They talk to me, and I try to talk to them too, but they can't hear me. I wonder if they will ever hear my voice? I doubt it. After all, I am only one of the many voices that comes from this rock hanging in the sky. I wonder why I can hear their voices when I can't hear anything from the world around me. It's a mystery. Just like my memories. I don't remember anything. Just stars. I know I was doing something, but I can't remember what it was. Yet, I remember everything the stars tell me. It makes me wonder; just who am I?
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories From a Camera
Short StoryA collection of random short stories. Some of the stories are related to my other stories (The Monster Hero and Nature's Sign). Not all of them are stories, some are poems or other things.
