The night was cloaked in a silky, deep blue, one that felt so familiar and comforting, much like my favorite blanket. I sat cross-legged in my backyard, mesmerized by the twinkling stars that looked like tiny diamonds scattered across the sky. This was my ritual. Every night after dinner, I would sneak out with a soft whisper of, “I’ll be back!” to my sleeping parents.
“Look, there’s the Big Dipper!” I exclaimed softly to myself, pointing towards the well-known constellation. Sometimes I felt as if my fingers could actually touch the stars, and for a moment, just a fleeting heartbeat, I imagined I could climb up and dance among them.
“You know,” I said, tilting my head back, “if you wish upon a star, they might just help your dreams come true. Maybe not directly, but they do something magical in here.” I tapped my chest and smiled, feeling a warmth spread inside me.
Tonight, however, was different. The stars appeared a tad dimmer, the moon watched from afar, and an uneasy feeling crept into my heart. With a gentle sigh, I pressed my palms together in front of me, closed my eyes tightly, and made a wish.
“I wish… I wish I could be a famous writer someday, but what if I don’t have what it takes?” I whispered, my voice breaking a little. The world felt heavy, as if it carried all my unspoken fears.
Just then, a gentle breeze floated by, causing the leaves of the nearest tree to sway and dance. “Did you hear that?” I murmured, holding my breath, close to fear that the stars were alive and they would hear my secret doubts. “They will know that I think I’m not enough.”
Suddenly, with a loud crackle, the silence of the night was shattered, and a splitting laugh rang from the direction of the woods next to my house. My heart raced as I looked towards the dark tree silhouettes. I held my breath, not sure if I felt more curious or afraid.
“Ah, the little Zara!” a voice from the void of trees shouted, seemingly amused. “What shall we give her tonight? Perhaps a sparkly wristwatch or a very fluffy teddy bear?”
“Who… who’s there?” I stammered, this was my secret place, my quiet escape, and now it felt invaded.
“Never mind who we are. It is YOU we are worried about. A wish upon a star? How hopeless that sounds! Whoosh, it might just fly away at the suspected moment!” The voice fluttered and flowed, like water in a tiny stream.
“I haven’t finished yet. Do you really think one of them could help me? I mean—“ My voice trembled, echoing back at me with doubt, “I could never be or do what they want.”
“You worry much too much!” the voice sang gently. “What would the stars do with your doubts? Do you think you haven’t got enough shine in you? Do you think you’ve got nothing to tell? Oh dearie, you worry too much! You chatter about your wish, but I have to say it’s terribly predictable!”
What? What did that mean? The voice continued, more relaxing, caring even. “What if one of the stars were to tell you what talent you’ve got, or what you’re capable of? But what might be the use if you cannot see it yourself? You could do anything you set your mind to, Zara! Anything at all in this world! Try for a second to think of what I’ve just told you. Close your eyes and imagine!”
I closed my eyes, my heart racing with confusion and a strange feeling of excitement too. “Imagine there’s no heaven, Zara, envision there’s no hell! This world might be a birthday pie of an endless, happy sky! I know you can believe it, even if you can’t see it! Imagine you’re surrounded by wonderful people, who don’t pour each other with promises of how well they can cook! Drown! Shrink into one!”
“Shrink into one…,” I mumbled, letting the fresh ideas wash over me. I could feel something shift inside. Could it really be that easy?
“Try to picture yourself like a star! A bright and shining star! Shimmering and glimmering! Can you see your twinkling? Very very light, small and queer. Yes, think how happy you make everybody over here! Wouldn’t it be a good idea to try and make them do the same? Shine into that very tiny individual hole and say, ‘I’ll be your coming light. I’ll urge you to ignite! Yes, you can shine too! I believe you can and cheer!’ Until the day, maybe I, Zara, one of you, will collect the whole world under my twinkling, twinkling, twinkling pearly-dusty, rainbow light. Try to do that! Dare and will! You’ll see, the stars may even wink at you from time to time!”
A pause. The night was overwhelming.
I didn’t really notice when the voice had faded away, and for hours I stared up into the vastness, the twinkling surround-silent whirls of eternity. I felt strangely recharged, believed in myself, opened some new place inside my heart, and above all, recognized: even stars might drain sometimes, even stars sometimes require food.