Page 90
Story: A Strange Hymn
I sigh. “Me too.”
My eyes move from star to star. The constellations are foreign to me but no less beautiful than they are on earth.
Out of nowhere, one of the stars begins to fall from the sky. I blink a few times, just to make sure I’m seeing things correctly. One moment it sat up in the heavens, the next it descends, dropping from the sky as though gravity were pulling it to the horizon.
I’m still trying to make sense of the falling star when another one slips from its perch, leaving a faint, shimmery trail of light in its wake.
“Des!”
“Hmm?” he responds lazily.
Then another star falls…and another and another, each one leaving its place in the canopy above us, dropping to where sky meets earth.
“The stars are falling from the sky!” That’s definitely a phrase I never imagined saying.
Now dozens are dropping from the cosmos, making the night look as though it’s crying the most exquisite tears.
I sit up, unable to tear my gaze away.
Just before any of them hit the horizon, they alter their trajectory, moving…toward us.
My brows knit. I glance over at Des, who still hasn’t responded. He’s watching the sky too, but he doesn’t look alarmed or surprised. He reaches out for the heavens, the air wavering a little with his magic.
Then, in perhaps the strangest moment I’ve ever seen, the fallen stars gather one by one into Des’s outstretched hand, looking as tiny there in his palm as they did in the canopy above us.
I don’t breathe as he lowers his arm then holds his hand out to me. Cupped in his hand is starlight. But I know stars aren’t this small. I reach out and touch them with my finger. They feel like grains of sand, and they’re warm to the touch.
I still can’t contain my surprise. “How did you…?”
“I borrowed their light for an evening,” Des explains, starlight reflecting in his eyes.
I let out a surprised laugh, remembering our late-night conversation on Phyllia, the Land of Dreams.
I would steal the stars from the sky for you.
You wouldn’t have to steal them, Des.
“You made a deal with the stars?” I ask, incredulous.
“I asked nicely.” He says that as though there’s some distinction.
Now I throw my head back and laugh. He talked the stars out of the sky.
When my laughter finally dies away, Des is still staring intensely at me. “I told you I’d give you the stars for that laugh.”
He did.
He leans forward, bringing his cupped hand to the top of my head.
“What are you doing?” I ask, beginning to lean away.
“Be still, cherub.”
Reluctantly, I do as he asks, my body motionless.
All at once he pours the starlight onto the crown of my head.
I raise my eyebrows, still not moving. “Why did you just do that?” I ask, afraid of what will happen if I shake out my hair.
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