A small venture into creative writing-ish something. Written at 2am during a rather stressful week at school. Later revised at a more sane hour, but not necessarily better. Read at your own risk ;)

The stars are falling. Little shards of the night, flaming brightly as they take a leap of faith out of the void, burning a path through night, falling to their doom, lighting up the night sky in the sight of everyone who cares to look. I’m looking, brave ones. Looking on and cheering, with the moon setting behind me and the grass between my toes, toes that are gripping the ground lest I fall off into the void — suddenly aware of the tenuousness of my existence on this razor edge of a space rock.

One of my earliest memories is of a starfall. They said it was the plunge of the century, so my parents roused my brother and I before the sun into a disappointing fog of clouds obscuring the leaps of the distant suns suddenly come near. But as the road led us winding up the spine of the mountains, those clouds fell away below, revealing the stellar rain. Bundled into sleeping bags along the edge of the parkway, we watched as the burning ones came soaring down. I insisted to my laughing mother that one had landed just over there, and we could go pick it up! I’ve been chasing it ever since — every time there’s a starfall, I can’t resist the call of the night to come watch its brilliant display. Those lines of light across the night are burned into me.

I know the science. Burning bits of refuse left in the trail of other space rocks — little grains of sand and pebbles burning up as they hit the air. But that’s no fun.

The stars are falling!