Fierce stardust

Sometimes, it’s in the cities with the largest populations that the loneliest souls are found.

Cloaked and coated. A dark piece of fabric was fastened at the top of the window, as it hung heavily as a shield from the bright, synthetic light. It wasn’t wartime nor did he feel unease about staring gazes, but he feared what they might think, if they knew how much time he spent restless. It must have been years since his eyes could rest for more than a couple of hours. When they finally did, it was when the first rays of daylight had already started to peek in through small cracks in wooden planks he had nailed to his bedroom window.

No matter how little sleep he had gotten he always went to a nearby bakery in the morning to pick up a coffee and some bread. His body was made of paper chains, and each time he saw that nobody seemed to notice him, the dribble turned into a mild rainstorm. The sky above his head became darker and fuller of rain with each day passing by. The soggy paper turn into a poison liquid that soaked into his mindset.

Every time he thought of going to bed, a vapid figure had already fallen partly asleep in the other half of the bed. It was pitch black, nut somehow he felt its presence as a slimy feeling in the air. He ran through what he was going to do each evening before heading to bed, but every time his plan crumbled. Just lay down with no fear, he told himself, just go to sleep. But when his head rested upon the soft fabric, an abruptly hand placed itself on his chest. Whispers with voices that was not his own filled up the room as a thousand humming birds, but he couldn’t tell one word from another. He never could.

Therefore, he always decided to stay in the living room, just a little longer. He hoped that if he was tired enough the vapid figure would leave him alone.

Always is untrue, for lately he had started to deviate from his usual strictly planned routes. Though he had lived in the metropolitan for quite a few years now, he had never dared wandering the city alone. He used to only feel a slight, cruel bit of loneliness in crowds, but one day he had forgotten to wipe it off of his shoes before walking directly into his dear home. Why did you settle down in a capital? He asked himself every time he felt the need to go somewhere brand new. But one particular starry night, he felt the urge to go somewhere else. The entire day he had been walking like a caged animal back and forth, trying to formulate a stray thought he knew would taste splendid on his chapped lips. His feet were sore from standing up, but he didn’t seem to care for he had the words at the tip of his tongue. If he could keep on walking, he was sure they would show their face and see the light of day.

This particular night was odd. Words swayed tenderly and sometimes he even dared to speak a few just to see if he had caught onto something. But nothing worked. With an extreme care he walked into his bedroom to see if the creature was still in his bed, which he could confirm before he had even grabbed the doorknob.

Back and forth he walked once again, trying to figure out what he was so desperately trying to say. Suddenly a pattern of thoughts began to form like a persistent chanting. It formed as a faint echo, but soon it boomed out in every corner of his overworked mind.

“I have got to get out of here” he whispered to himself as he, in a rush, grabbed a warm coat and left his apartment.

The air circled around him in small vortexes. Leaves and light trash was lifted from the ground a few feet into the air, before the wind lost its grip and let it all tumble down. His feet sounded as a steady rhythm in the completely empty street. The wind howled and screeched past a damaged lamppost which light bulb blinked sporadically. No one walked the streets, not a single window was lit up and for a moment he wondered if he was travelling through a ghost town. A few cars had been parked along the pavement road, even a few bicycles were locked to an unlucky fence-owner’s fence. A low coo-ing came from a lonely pigeon which shredded an overfilled garbage bag


There was shorter way to the train station than what he had thought. Relief brushed against his skin when he saw other people starring mindless into the thin air. He felt the train’s vibrations before it got there. A rumbling spread across the platform, shaking the air in a way he was sure only he had noticed. No one but him bothered to look up. The train stopped to drop off passengers and he took his chance; with a big step he leaped onto the train, with an eager he had thought he would never feel ever again. Both of his feet had felt so ready for it, and when his mind took over, he didn’t feel the pressing hand on his moving chest.

At first he didn’t notice her, for he felt so sure that he was going to be alone once again that he didn’t even look around. But she sat there, right in front of him, clearly caught in her own thoughts. Somehow, he felt as if she had recognized his presence with a subtle smile that spread on her face, when he looked in her direction. She had nothing with her except the clothes she was wearing and he wondered where she was going. For a moment he thought of asking her, but small-talking seemed like too big of a challenge. An urge of speaking started to bobble up, but not words left him. Time was a slippery resource. He felt as if it could freeze at any moment.

They rode the train for a couple of minutes. Slowly, without he noticed at first whispering voices had crept back into his head. At once his brain started to speak simultaneously, making it impossible for him to tell one thought from another. Fragments and white noise started to increase in volume. His before so eager feet began to feel heavy.

It was as if she could hear what he could, because for the first time she looked directly at him. Her eyes flamed, though they were completely dark. But her dark eyes didn’t make him crumble or burst into flames. They seared off all thoughts with a single blast.

Everything was quiet. He couldn’t hear a single voice and for a short while he wondered if had gotten deaf. Her mouth curled up at the edges when she smiled at him. Quiet. He chose to attempt to speak to him and only him. He felt the moment in its true length. Quiet. A slow, but steady feeling of the right words rose in him. A chanting began in the back of his him, but this one was not threatening and he didn’t feel scared. Words were arranging as a puzzle and he had only a few pieces left. He was surprised when he heard his own voice speak to her with a curious tone

“I have always wondered if the wuthering weathers seem just as beautiful to every else as they do to me”

Her smile could light up this whole soulless town. He felt like speaking more, but for now he would just stare at her and take it all in.