HOME | DD

Description
Flashes of stinging white crackle across satin. If you stared at it for too long, wishing for stars, you would surely be driven mad. Only the omnipresent hum of vehicles grounds me while I am in transit, preventing exactly that.

Despite frightening posters of malicious stars, their light bleeding into blood being my earliest memory, I continue to peer out the window and search for the malicious stars. Once there was a time when you could just see them beside the faint halo of street lamps, ornate and cheerfully painted. Sometimes, even a globe would blow and in that little patch the stars would glow brighter.

When I heard that rumour there was no blood but my own. Biting my lip with anticipation, something had dribbled down my chin, and touching it to see what it was, there was red. Advertisements of the Afflicted reeled through my mind. Deranged eyes, wild hair, ashen skin, mouths opened in a perpetual scream. "Their danger to all is as real as the stars." I hyperventilated, thinking that I was next. Only when I ran home to my mother had I calmed.

Perhaps that is why they think that I don't look for the stars.

"The only thing that can save them is the inky onyx of the industrial night and hard work." Thinking that I had still a very real possibility of becoming Afflicted, I had made the only cure my personal motto, volunteering until night, studying until night, and working until night.

Now that I have more sense, the illustrious shine of the named stone reminds me of the Cheshire's smile, the descent into madness if I don't see the stars. If only I could have one glimpse, just one to sate my delirious thirst. To be more than a drone in high heels and lipstick, smiles painfully stretched.

The stinging white pulsates slowly.

My breath hitches, eyes entranced. Longer is the interval between the darkness and their light.

There! Faint pinpricks wobble.

I laugh with the absurdity of this moment. Velvet seats, chauffeur and the tailored clothes that come with a high ranking job? Nothing but tasteless candy compared to the simplicity of honey: warm, sweet, and fulfilling.

Almost as if a glitch, the lights return to their former brightness; a shocking, antiseptic white.

“No, no,” I say, sinking into my seat while my eyes frantically search the sky, needing one more glimpse. “One more.”

The vehicle decelerates smoothly, then stops. My door opens and a hand reaches in to politely assist me from my seat. Grasping the extended hand, I reapply my calm, emotionless demeanour. Any other is unneeded and unwanted.

"Miss," and I look up to the face of the hand. I nod, hoping it is calm, collected, and most importantly, detached.

The vehicle leaves as soon as I advance into the building. The lights within are the same as outside: a mimicry of the real thing.

“Suzanne,” an amused voice calls from behind. Turning, I am met by faces cruel in their humour. "So glad for you to rejoin us."

There was no moment when I was away, was there?

Description
Flashes of stinging white crackle across satin. If you stared at it for too long, wishing for stars, you would surely be driven mad. Only the omnipresent hum of vehicles grounds me while I am in transit, preventing exactly that.

Despite frightening posters of malicious stars, their light bleeding into blood being my earliest memory, I continue to peer out the window and search for the malicious stars. Once there was a time when you could just see them beside the faint halo of street lamps, ornate and cheerfully painted. Sometimes, even a globe would blow and in that little patch the stars would glow brighter.

When I heard that rumour there was no blood but my own. Biting my lip with anticipation, something had dribbled down my chin, and touching it to see what it was, there was red. Advertisements of the Afflicted reeled through my mind. Deranged eyes, wild hair, ashen skin, mouths opened in a perpetual scream. "Their danger to all is as real as the stars." I hyperventilated, thinking that I was next. Only when I ran home to my mother had I calmed.

Perhaps that is why they think that I don't look for the stars.

"The only thing that can save them is the inky onyx of the industrial night and hard work." Thinking that I had still a very real possibility of becoming Afflicted, I had made the only cure my personal motto, volunteering until night, studying until night, and working until night.

Now that I have more sense, the illustrious shine of the named stone reminds me of the Cheshire's smile, the descent into madness if I don't see the stars. If only I could have one glimpse, just one to sate my delirious thirst. To be more than a drone in high heels and lipstick, smiles painfully stretched.

The stinging white pulsates slowly.

My breath hitches, eyes entranced. Longer is the interval between the darkness and their light.

There! Faint pinpricks wobble.

I laugh with the absurdity of this moment. Velvet seats, chauffeur and the tailored clothes that come with a high ranking job? Nothing but tasteless candy compared to the simplicity of honey: warm, sweet, and fulfilling.

Almost as if a glitch, the lights return to their former brightness; a shocking, antiseptic white.

“No, no,” I say, sinking into my seat while my eyes frantically search the sky, needing one more glimpse. “One more.”

The vehicle decelerates smoothly, then stops. My door opens and a hand reaches in to politely assist me from my seat. Grasping the extended hand, I reapply my calm, emotionless demeanour. Any other is unneeded and unwanted.

"Miss," and I look up to the face of the hand. I nod, hoping it is calm, collected, and most importantly, detached.

The vehicle leaves as soon as I advance into the building. The lights within are the same as outside: a mimicry of the real thing.

“Suzanne,” an amused voice calls from behind. Turning, I am met by faces cruel in their humour. "So glad for you to rejoin us."

There was no moment when I was away, was there?