Starlight

A couple months ago, a group of my closest friends and I came up with the idea for a story. The idea came from the fact that we thought we could be the perfect team, no matter what we were doing. That idea grew into a plot twisting, super involved idea about five young people (Michael, Sasha, Bryan, Rose, and Lance) led by an older man (Rayburn) who were expert thieves in search of a mysterious artifact that has yet to be determined.

I, being the writer in the group, was unofficially put in charge of creating this mind boggling and confusing story. Most of what I have finished is only small tid bits that I hope will some day come together perfectly. I am also currently in the process of writing the longest chunk of the story so far. But, some of the pieces I have written have become my favorite scenes over all.

I have below one of those small tid bits, the most recently written, for your literary entertainment. It comes rather in the center of the story, so I'll give a small back ground over view of what you'll need to know. Lance has a case of amnesia and can't remember much at all, including his name, which he can only guess at. Rose is the computer geek, but whimsical at the same time. She concerns herself with creating a family within the group and listens to anything Micheal tells her, clinging to him as often as possible. Before this scene takes place, Micheal tells Rose 'there's no reason' for Lance to fall in love with her and that she shouldn't think about silly things like that. Anyway, it's a little confusing, I know, but I wanted to share a glimpse of my writer side:

Starlight

The cool night air felt good against Lance’s skin as the elevator door opened to the roof. Far off lit windows shimmered like fireflies and a few sounds of the busy city escaped up to his ears, but he was pretty high up. As long as he didn’t think about the height, the roof was the best place to get fresh air.

Lance took a long, deep breath and was about to head back down, when he noticed someone else was on the roof. Lying on her back with her closed eyes to the stars was Rose. She had her patchwork quilt from her bedspread out on the cold concrete and was lying so perfectly still that Lance thought she might be asleep.

Trying not to disturb her, he sat down on the quilt next to her, feeling its soft texture beneath him. He smiled when he saw Rose’s striped socks at the ends of her purple pajama pants. He watched her chest move up and down slowly as she breathed in the night air around them. Her face looked so perfectly calm with just a hint of a smile on her lips and a lock of her brown hair fluttering about her forehead. She really was beautiful.

Turning his eyes toward the sky, he marveled at the great expanse of stars that twinkled high above the rooftops. He laid back admiring them and wondering if each one had a name. He wondered if they knew their names, knew the remarkable legacy they had left behind in thousands of brilliant minds just by being in the sky each night. And, if not, perhaps the stars were closer to him than he had originally perceived.

“There’s no pattern,” whispered Rose’s tinkling voice. Lance turned to see her brown eyes wide open and reflecting the glistening universe. “I’ve been up here every night since my first day, watching them, thinking, someday, maybe I’ll see the reasoning; why each star is where it is. But, every night all I see is chaos; no pattern.”

Lance’s eyes were glued to Rose as she spoke, unable to pull themselves away, and somewhere, he found the courage to speak. “Maybe some things don’t need a reason, a program, or a pattern. Maybe they just are.” Where did that come from, he wondered.

Rose seemed to think this over for a moment, her brow wrinkling ever so slightly, before saying, “Michael says everything has a pattern.”

Somewhere inside Lance, a small pain emerged at her words, as real as if he had pricked his finger. He turned his head back toward the stars and found himself asking, “You love him, don’t you?”

Rose laughed; a beautiful sound that was small but full, like the chiming of a hundred small bells. “Oh no,” she giggled. “No, Michael is like my older brother. He’s always looking out for me, but he’s too much of a worry to fall in love with. Besides, he can be rather crazy sometimes.” Her glowing eyes stayed focused above as her smile lit up her soft face. Lance couldn’t help but smile back.

There was a warm silence that settled between the two of them, the night seemed to wrap itself around them and keep them safe from everything. All of Lance’s fears and questions seemed immaterial if he could stay next to Rose the rest of the night.

A car horn blared below, sending a crack through the placid dream and causing Rose to frown slightly. When she spoke, there was a slight tremor in her voice. “You know, I always wanted to be a part of something better than the traffic and business meetings. That’s why I try my hardest, because, maybe through Rayburn, I can be a part of a family, a piece of something… special.” Her last words sounded more like a frightened plea, but it was rimmed with hope. “Do you think that’s possible?”

Lance raised himself up on one elbow and looked down on Rose’s soft curls and genuine face. “I think you’re already something special all by yourself,” he grinned, slightly embarrassed, but unable to help himself.

“But I’m not perfect,” she sighed, averting her eyes from his.

He reached up with one hand and slid it along her gentle face, tucking the loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin felt warm beneath his fingertips. “And yet I wouldn’t change a thing,” he whispered.

Her eyes flew back to his, drowning him in their glittering beauty. Her brow wrinkled ever so slightly, but her smile continued to grow. “But, I don’t understand. There’s no reason…” Her voice trailed off as Lance leaned in closer, the faint scent of fresh apples enticing him, her breath warm on his skin. Her face seemed to be reflecting the light of every star in the sky. She really was beautiful, his voice was barely audible when he said, “Well, I guess we just proved Michael wrong.”

His eyes closed as he leaned in to close the final inch between them, when he realized she was gone. His eyes flew open and he looked up just in time to see a flash of purple and bouncing brown curls jump through the elevator door. The line of gold light on the cold cement grew thinner and thinner before disappearing completely and leaving Lance, alone, in the dark.

                                                                                             

  Ruth Key