The Legends of the Milky Way - J Celeste

A very talented young writer who burst upon The Story Mint scene last year with this superb piece of work. 

Submitted by JCeleste on Saturday 30 March 2013

There are stories, whispered among children huddled around a campfire, about the Milky Way:

Once upon a time, long before there were trees and rivers, planets and stars, or the moons that circled them, there was a thing—dark, plain and full of possibility—called Space.

 At that time, the children of the Gods––who were Gods themselves, but didn’t know it yet––set up playgrounds in Space where they could do whatever they wanted.

One of these children we will call Infinity.

Infinity had been to the other playgrounds and saw that some of their toys––which they called planets––had people who had adventures on their own piece of the planet and died. These people were sad when they had to let go, because they wanted to be where they had just been, because they missed the people and things they had left behind.

Infinity decided to take her playground and make it a home to all these lost and lonely people. From Infinity’s section, the people could look down on their loved ones, disguised as a star.

At the break of dawn on their home planet, the stars hid for a while. The people played with each other until night came and they could watch over their friends again.

Sometimes, when people tried and their loved ones listened, they could have a conversation. Occasionally the conversation came in a dream or as a random thought, but it made the people very happy because they weren’t alone anymore, and the others from their home life were not alone either.

Word got out among all the people of all the universes and soon Infinity’s playground was nothing but a white sea of stars, so she called it The Milky Way.

***

Once upon a time, in a Space playground, there was a beautiful planet with whispering rivers, erupting mountains, and forests and deserts that stretched out forever. In an itty-bitty part of that planet, a boy and his father made their own playground and had many adventures together.

One day the father didn’t wake up and the boy was left alone. He was sad because he never got to say goodbye. He kept dreaming his father promising, “I’ll be right there.” But his father was nowhere, just a vision in a dream, a feeling in the air, sometimes a voice in the boy’s head that whispered things his father had once said.

This boy had a friend, a girl who believed in fairy tales and second chances, and she told him it was a sign that his father came at night. She dragged him outside and shared the story of how the Milky Way came to be. She pointed to the North Star. “That’s got to be your dad; it’s the star that shines brightest and it’s the only star you can see wherever you are. So no matter where you go or what you do, he will always be,” she took the boy’s hand and pointed, “right there. See?”

He doubted this, since he mostly believed in things he could see, touch and smell.

She insisted the stars could whisper, and share secrets with the people they had loved or who had ever loved them, if they listened real carefully.

She went back inside and he listened, but he had to close his eyes to hear the best, so he did, still facing the star. The breeze whispered, it’s all right. A voice inside followed with I’ll be there for you, always. He sensed warmth, and knew his father was next to him. “Dad?”

Without having to use words, but sometimes using them anyway, the boy found himself having a sort of conversation with his father, where he even heard his father laugh.

The boy’s sense of abandonment vanished. Instead he possessed a warm certainty that, no matter where he was, or what he did, his father would always be right there––even if only in a whisper, a feeling, or a voice in his head—and always in the stars.

***

Once upon a time, when the pretty marble planet was still new but a bit older, the girl who had once believed in fairy tales and second chances found out she loved the boy who had once believed in only the things he could touch, smell and see with his eyes.

Somewhere in the confusion and adventure of growing up, they had switched places––he would spend nights watching for the new stars and talking with his father, while she pretended to believe but sometimes cried herself to sleep, because deep in her, she knew that someday she would be left alone. Yet when she was with him, she was happy.

They had grown up together and were still best of friends, completely in love and ready to grow old together. But one day he did not wake up and she grew old in a minute and died in the heart. She wouldn’t hear the whispers in the breeze, the voices in her head, and cut off the feelings in the air, that warm, unexplainable understanding that it would be all right.

The little planet whirled around and everywhere people were being born, growing up, growing old and dying, but she didn’t know about it because she had shut herself up in a little room with only one window, and one balcony, where she could see the ocean, lit by stars.

She mostly stayed in her little room and slept, but one day she woke up and it was morning. She stood on the balcony and gazed at the ocean, coming in and going out, lit by the sun, which slowly crossed the azure sky. The sky became pink, gold and purple, then cerulean and black, lit by countless stars and a quarter moon.

She stared at the sky but couldn’t really see it, because she was imagining the days when she and her love had once camped out in the daisy field and told each other stories.

A shooting star reminded her of a legend she had believed in as a girl, about the Milky Way.

Sometimes the person would take his place in the Milky Way, but he missed whomever he had left behind too much, so he came back.

His star would fall and anyone who saw this would say it was a shooting star.

Because the sight was usually restricted to those who the person had loved, and was coming back for, the shooting star was considered rare and magical.

Those who saw it would make a wish, and very often their wish would come true.

She closed her eyes and made a wish, that she could see her love again, that she could believe in fairy tales and second chances, even if it just meant she wouldn’t have to be alone.

In that moment, the wind picked up and whistled through the trees, chimes from who-knows-where tinkled, she saw him smile, and the night which had been so cold, grew warm.

It’s going to be all right.

She breathed deeply. Without having to use words, but sometimes using them anyway, she had a conversation with him. From then on, she was never alone; she carried him with her, in a whisper, a feeling, a memory, and in the stars.

***

-Epilogue-

Years later, the girl wrote down her tales of the Milky Way, so she would never forget that childhood magic, born of campfire stories.

One night, while looking for her constellation in the stars, she revisited the forgotten tale of how constellations came to be created.

At first, people just took whatever little section of The Milky Way they wanted. But then they decided they wanted to share their place with everyone they had loved, whom, with the comings and goings of time, also died.

They had to organize a system for this, because otherwise two people wanted to be in the exact same location and this kept causing stars to collide, sometimes creating new planets.

So it was decided that the people would figure out how they would want to take their place in the sky, before any in the group died.

Some people liked bears, so they formed a bear. Others who had a very large group of loved ones needed something with more detail, like a unicorn with a fairy riding on its back.

This made the sky very beautiful, because there was always someone adding to a constellation somewhere. But only those who would be part of the constellation could see it.

The girl smiled at her constellation: a daisy with its petals embracing her from light years away.

Her boy was close, his presence a blanket about her shoulders, gentle and warm. The wind carried his whispers that she had nothing to fear.

She wrote down the constellation tale by firelight to say goodbye. As she closed her eyes to sleep, she took her place among the stars.

©2013 Joanna Celeste (USA)