It had someone else.
Dwayne Raedhen Cabel

Photo by Mark Rabe (

And so I continued to tread on the dingy, menacing path ahead of me.

I walked straight up to the star and hoped that everything would be fair, and all that was merely nothing but an atrocious dream that I wouldn’t want to recall.

At some point, I hoped that everything in that same circumstance was all a lie.

But then my guilt stalled me.

The star was so beautiful. Its happiness was evident in its golden gleam and it seemed to be happier than the first time I saw it. I was too afraid to inflict it with debilitating pain, because I knew that the moment I would wish for that point in time to disappear, it would, too.

My heart shattered in despair.

“Why is this so?”

I asked myself numerous questions, yet I could answer not a distinct one of them with unabridged certainty and confidence.

I was in absolute silence.

I shut my eyes and confined my flesh and reasoning with tenebrous fortification. I was probably defunct and six feet under sentience.

All the world was impalpable.

My ethereal world was moonless. Its walls were painted with pitch-black fear and phobia, and the mythical breeze was chilled with terror and despondency. The ground was quivering with angst, and the hallucinatory horizon was thriving with fractured hopes and unfounded dreams.

I was more than hopeless. In fact, the pain was incorrigible.

I cleared my eyes.

I was stunned. The ebony horizon was suffused by a blanket of stars, and all the pain and sorrow appeared to have vanished. My world was illuminated and everything was teeming with vivacity and fire.

All was well.

The optimistic way of the world manifested in me, and all of the fresh and winsome stars in the skyline encompassed me with assurance and ambition.

I had an ocean of stars to select from, and with that, I recouped my purpose. I finally had something to live for, and my undertakings could finally be infused with justification — everything just seemed to be just and rational.

“Is this my world’s metamorphosis?”

I questioned myself.

I carried on with my now tranquil path. I took sanguine steps and strode through the forgiving avenue with aspiration and spirit, having learned that a profusion of stars betokening hope and euphoria were all behind me.

All the vivid stars in the propitious horizon were ostensibly sufficient enough for me to regain my ascendancy over my nuisances and apprehensions, and every single speckle in the now cerulean horizon prompted me that hope is naturally limitless in this world.

I gazed at the atmosphere and shed a diamond tear.

There were innumerable glimmering stars around me, but then the lone star that despairing night remained dead center.

I was utterly silent. I felt a desolating weight on my flesh and all the optimism in me seemed to have found their course out of my consciousness. I was impotent.

I swiveled my body en route to an unfamiliar orientation, yet the vivid star that fueled my strength and spirit, and the lustrous star that compelled me to stay remained to be the only one I remembered.

I was discomfited. The mere thought of the star bludgeoned my heart and soul. It made all the deplorable and melancholic memories recur, and it caused all the magnificent and rousing lights in this world to recede from view.

All my hope was gone once more.

Frankly, it was the only star that was mine…

But then I lost it to someone else.

This story is part of The Writing Cooperative’s 52-Week Writing Challenge. Every week for 52 weeks, I will be adding a new story to Moonstruck, a collection of emotional lines about love, pain, and letting go.