When stars move

A sea of infinite darkness. This is my view as I sit outside on my small balcony and gaze up into the night sky. I had not done this in a while. But tonight I watched for hours as the sky shifted from its joyous sea of blue to the wondrous radiance of orange hues to finally its infinite expanse of unknown and oppressive darkness. As I sit here and gaze deep into that darkness for the first time in years I feel shivers run down my spine. It is not too warm here on this August night, yet I sweat. Below the hard rappings of fists against my front door and the blaring of sirens and screams of men roar. These seas of twinkling stars that surround me now often bring wonder to the common man, to be so small, a speck of dust in an infinite universe ever growing; I used to enjoy the humbling quality of it, now the fear of it brings me to tears.

There are things in this world that we are better off not knowing. The wonder that stars inspire is their cruel mockery of this. For they invite us to learn more yet the knowledge ruins. I know this, for it ruined me. Around five years ago, when I was a stocky and bright young man, I used to sit on this balcony for hours under the jet black sky to wonder at the stars. Back then I always wanted to know more of them and their surrounding planetary bodies. Most people only do this once in a blue moon, but someone such as me, who is cursed with a solitary focus such as this, would not tire. There was a time when this wonder surrounded me every night and every night I would swear that I saw more. More stars, more planetary bodies; And when I, ever so rarely, saw a shooting star I wished with every fiber of my being to know more of the night sky. I watched out for them every time and slowly my fascination shifted to the stars that fell. To burn so brightly in such a short time, only to be reduced to nothing. I think I saw some beauty in that. In my research I eventually found out that there is a special august night that has an abundance of these shooting stars. I heard that this is the night that inspires the young and fills them with wonder; That couples gather and gaze into the night sky and wish upon them as they fall. If only they knew that the stars had no interest in their wishes, only their ruin.

It was around four years ago that I saw the first glimpse of the grotesqueness of moving stars, only then I didn’t know how horrid they could truly be for I saw only wonder. About three hours into my watch, I think the time stood at 1 am as I saw the star. Surrounded in a sea of stationary twinklings of stars this one burned the brightest. As it shot down it almost pushed the other ones out of its way. This was the power of the star and I was enveloped by its radiance. I stared and stared in my stupified awe, waiting for it to burn out and leave in its brightest moment, but it never did. After falling it just stopped. I stood up in amazement as it still remained, still burning in its strongest of fires as I remained mesmerized. I spent that night waiting for it to move, for it to burn out. I rubbed my eyes but it remained. As the night sky shifted to a radiance of orange hues it remained. The sun creeped out and blessed us with another day and as its warmth graced my skin the star remained. After the night sky had fully been lost and replaced with the gleeful and hidden secretive nature of the sea of blue that we call the day the star remained.

That morning, tired as I was, no sleep found me. As I laid in my bed, tossing and turning, my mind was raptured by one singular thought; I needed to get a better look at that shooting star. With this my next course of action was clear. I had been saving up for a telescope for quite some time and I decided the time to acquire one was now. I ventured out under the comfort of a blue sky and used every bit of my savings to buy a well functioning telescope that I had been eyeing for quite some time. As I returned to my home I rushed up to my balcony to gaze upon the star. Even during the strong blue sky I found the star and as I gazed upon it with my newly acquired telescope I discovered, to my shock, that the shooting star actually wasn’t a meteor, as suspected, but in reality was an actual star. At least, to my eye, that is what it looked like with the strong blue obscuring my view. Even still I could make out the surface of the star that burned with a righteous fury and I wondered if I had simply imagined its fall.

I waited for night to fall so that I could get a better view and once again I sat down on the bench on my balcony and turned my gaze up, deep into the sky, and watched as its comforting blue shifted to a radiance of yellow and orange as the sun left and then again as it shifted to the deepest of blacks only interrupted by the twinkling of a million stars. The widest of grins snuck up upon my face as I knew that it was time. I gripped my telescope with an expectant joy and let my eye be transported through it up deep into the unknown expanse of darkness. The thing I remember feeling first was the warmth of my own urine dripping down my leg as I was frozen by the experience of the sublime. The wonder I expected to find upon that still shooting star was indeed wondrous, but the find was of such an otherworldly abnormality so atrocious that the fear and horror of it far overshadowed any sense of wonder. To be so small in the presence of true sublimity. Even now, its image is still burned into my retinas every time I close them to see darkness. This is why I have since this night five years ago never been in a room without the comfort of electric lights; This is why I have hidden myself in the comfort of lit rooms every night when the malicious infinity of darkness took over the comfort of the blue sky. For when I looked upon the star I saw that what I had thought to be the fire of a still star was the glow of moving parts wholly alien. They fluttered in and out of existence or perhaps even in and out of this level of reality. The moving parts had partly a material form to them and partly an electrical or only immaterial form to them. The immaterial part could only be described as a glow of a certain color, that was wholly alien and unknown to mankind. The material part seemed to me to be some jelly-like material in a sickly whitish color that was ever-changing into different things that I knew and others that I didn’t. The moment I knew that I was in the presence of unwholly divinity was its finale of mockery. It was when suddenly all the violent lashings of this immaterial and material glow stopped and reshaped itself to be the image of a young and stocky fool staring down his little telescope. I knew then that the thing was truly alive, and this whole experience had been orchestrated by this thing with sardonic glee. In a fit of maddened terror I threw my telescope over the balcony and ran inside my home and condemned myself to isolation and exile from the outside world in hope that the great terror among the stars would not find me there.

During my self imposed exile I had never set foot in a room without the comfort of electric lights, and when I slept I needed the lights to remain for all of the midnight hours. During moments of electrical disasters, when my comfort malfunctioned I had to resort to candles. This is why every room in my house has its flooring littered with candles. Even now, in my midnight nightmares I still dream of that night. Of the malignant nature of moving stars. And sometimes in my foolishness, when I stared out of windows at the darkened sky, I saw stars that burned brighter than others and I wondered if there are more of the living ones or if I had simply gone utterly and irreversibly mad. My family, the ones that had not yet completely given up on me, still brought me supplies. They called to chat sometimes but I rarely answered. When I did try I was met with tears and pleas to just come back. I tried telling them that the star is watching! It might not be so visible during the obscuring day but it’s always there! Why won’t they listen!? The problem with this was the isolation; True isolation is different than others think. Humans have a base need to socialize and to communicate. In an attempt not to wholly lose my mind I tried to write my thoughts down on papers such as this one that you are reading now. I wrote many of my thoughts down, big or small just to get it out of my head and onto paper. The thoughts themselves didn’t matter so I often repurposed the paper as protection against the stars by putting them up against windows to block their sickly light out. My attempts aside, it is true that loneliness was getting to me.

Of the family I had left my mother Catherine was particularly insistent. She kept showing up even long after my father had given up on me. I remember one night in particular three years into my exile when she was at the door. It was late, not yet night but soon encroaching. As three weak rappings against the door were heard I hesitated. As I was sitting in my bed, windows covered, I quickly pulled out my pocket watch. The time was six thirty pm. I knew sundown was soon and I wondered if the stars had tired of waiting for my demise. “Michael! It’s me! Please open the door!” I heard the voice of my mother and my defenses were slightly lowered. Slowly I got out of my bed and let my feet transport me out of my room, through the littered candles, towards the front door. I needed to make sure it was her so I kept the latch on the door to only allow a glimpse outwards as I opened it. There she was. It was shocking to me to see how her jet black long hair had dwindled and greyed during my exile. To see how her wrinkles had exaggerated themselves and to see her smile gone and replaced with nothing but worry. “Michael, I brought you some food. I got you those eggrolls you love so much!” An attempt of a smile briefly flashed across Catherine’s face with her attempt at levity. She knew this was wrong so I barked back “You know you’re supposed to leave it at the door!” The handle rattled as my mother pulled it down in frustration “Please just let me in”. I sighed as I decided perhaps just this time the risk was worth it, just to alleviate the loneliness for a little while. I closed the door, unhooked that latch and as the door swung open she froze. She covered her mouth and I watched as her eyes darted back and forwards across me and my surroundings. “My boy, have you slept? Your eyes are so sunken, your skin so pale! What are these candles!?” I moved to say something but before I could she stormed in and reached down to gather my emergency lights off the floor. “No! Stop!” I yelled. As I did her eyes focused on my large kitchen window. The window which was safely boarded up with planks and repurposed papers with my thoughts. She ran towards it and with some freakish adrenaline started to pull planks and paper aside to let in the gaze of the stars. The light that reflected off the moon started to shine through and with it I knew the star’s vision followed. In my panic I ran up to her, screaming for her to stop, and when she didn’t I used my force to pull her back. She fell and landed on her behind with a horrified expression. As she fell she was holding one of my repurposed papers, her eyes fell upon it and she muttered “You aren’t well Michael”. She was just like the rest, perhaps worse. She tore down my defenses and for what!? To let the gaze of the evil ones in!? I yelled in frustration and anger at her attempt at destruction and my message was clear. She got up and ran out the front door. That was the last time I ever saw my mother. Only five years ago I was a stocky young man with a well mannered temper. To be degraded so quickly in five years to the frail and neurotic sorrow that exists today. To this day I lament my damned curiosity and I write this as a plea to others with similar obsession to let. It. Go.

Tonight I find myself here again. On this accursed balcony for what remained of my well-meaning family have now given up on me. For five long years they tried to help and during those long years, more of them dwindled in hope for my betterment and I find myself now alone amongst the stars. Perhaps this was the wish of the cruel stars. To make me so utterly alone that my reason to fight them dwindled to nothing. Below the incessant men scream and someone below me with a microphone shouts. “Don’t do anything stupid!” I wonder this now as I gaze up onto the midnight sky and the stars gaze back down upon me. As my gaze meets with a lone star, I wonder, is it getting closer? “You’re not well Michael! We only want to help you” I sit here and bear witness as, seemingly to me, a lone star leaves its surrounding planetary bodies and dredges ever closer. As its presence looms closer my paralyzing fear gets mixed with an old familiar feeling. Yes; it is true, as the stars loom closer and I watch them envelop the boundaries of my sight I feel it again. Wonder.

I wonder if it is through cruelty or compassion that it extends, how I view it, its invitation. For its violent lashings of material and immaterial quality no longer seemed violent, in the comparison to the lashings at my front door, as the strange color lashed out towards me. What used to feel like an oppressive mockery of my fascination now feels like a salutary congratulation of my persistence. Even with a body gripped with fear and wonder I stood up and gazed upon it one more time. Even though it was so very far away, now as the sublime had travelled down to let me bear witness, it felt so close. It appears obvious to me what I must do. An invitation to ascend has been extended, and to do so, all I must do is to step over the edge and join the stars. Now, as I look over the edge of my balcony to the concrete littered with men in uniforms that remains below, my fear is elated by the persistent and patient presence of the moving star. Ahh, there it is. The men below broke through my front door. I suppose that means that it is time. My star has waited long enough. If my mother finds this note, just know that I am sorry for hurting you, and even now I am with you; And in the midnight sky, when you gaze up into a sea of a million stars, you will find me as I will always find you.

Credit: Charlie Myrén