It was the night the stars left. Every evening since the Disappearing started, I’d taken to watching the sky. Everything else was gone, but my stars were reliable. I rested underneath their gaze, whispered my fears, and watched my tears reflect their glow. When I’d fall asleep, counting their endless connections, they’d dust their legends across my freckled face and I’d rest easy. I was blinking slowly, falling easily into the relief of slumber when it started. One by one, suddenly, tragically, my beloved stars flickered out. I tried to scream, to reach out and grab them, hold on to my last hope in this world, but it was as if my breath had blinked away as well. I was alone.
Now I know how it seems, but it wasn’t always like this. We used to be full of joy, instead of sand and heartache. Crow’s Point was broken, just like any other town, but the people were comfortable. Everyone who lived there was careful and tired. A traditional, diligent kind of boring. The kind that lets sleeping dogs lie. Their fear was manageable. Sure, it left behind a hollow, empty space, but I could help them. I was Curious. And they couldn’t do it for themselves, so I took their anxious questions, the ones hidden behind smiles and closed doors and spread them like saplings through the desert. I protected my people and in turn, the owls and snakes and caverns and cactuses became my family. I asked them questions that were not mine and they answered. The earth herself called me dearest. But good things are not made to last. At least, not around here. Curiosity requires sacrifice. A darkness descended. It took away the birds. I had spent so long fighting against that empty space that kept my town in fear, but it was no use. My town’s questions, my plants, the familiar rocks who told me stories of the sky, my friends, family, and now my stars all faded away.
Crow’s Point was empty and so was I. Dusty wind, blowing off the vacant streets and sweeping through hollow homes filled my throat and I swallowed my tears. Where had I gone so horribly wrong? I layed softly on the ground. I was ready to give myself over, resign myself to whatever cruel fading this darkness had in store for me, when the ground rumbled beneath me. The earth spoke again: Come here, beloved. It’s time to face her. Your shining moment has arrived. It would all be over soon. Standing up, I readied myself to face the wickedness, prepared for whatever horrors waited for my arrival. I would not resign myself to defeat when there was still breath in my lungs.
I walked for hours. The land that had always felt familiar was alien and dangerous. Alone, I wandered aimlessly, trusting the ground to guide me. The voices of my past reverberated sympathetically through my mind. My town’s questions: Will I make it to summer? Does he hate me? Am I too much? Why can’t we stay here? What’s for lunch? My mother’s lectures: “Come on now, time to stop being, Curious. We both know it’s not healthy!” My friend’s guidance: “You are, Curious! We’ll show you the stars. Let us introduce you to the wind.” My dear Earth’s whispers: It’ll be alright, Darling. We will be with you.
The weight of my responsibility solidified itself with each repeated reply. I was heavy with grief, unsure of my path, but positive of its finality. I stopped an inch from the edge of a canyon, the mouth of an old mine shaft a little ways away, beckoning me closer. Opening wide. I recognized that mine shaft. I used to come here, years ago, before the Disappearing. There used to be crystals here, blinking and shining. A strange parody of the stars. They told me that I would be the wind. Uneasiness permeated the hazy twilight, the same hollowness that was left behind from every hole the darkness left. That vacant, ancient feeling, frozen in time, lingering in place far after your favorite willow or your best friend had withered away. It drove people into their houses, and they stopped coming back out. But I couldn’t let go that easily. I wouldn't let myself break. Not yet, at least. I took a deep breath, and ventured into the cave.
The darkness surrounded me immediately, coating me in a dreary, ashen smell and a compulsion to run. I shivered, a cold rushing through that pit in my stomach, an unnerving silence, like the sky without my stars. Fingers caressed my hair. I turned around slowly, but nothing was there. I felt her ancient emptiness, wrapping around my waist. The echo at the bottom of a canyon. Then, a whisper. DO YOU HEAR IT? She answered my questions. I stumbled towards her. She was hollow, like me. Ancient and monstrous and alone. She wanted to be whole again. It was me who could help her.
Inky barbed tendrils slinked out to embrace me, like a kiss from a dagger. She hugged me close, and I knew this was the last chance I would get to save my town. I let that Umbral Being have her fill of me, gorging her on all I’d collected, all the burden I bore. Questions, worries, songs, stones, love, fear, stars. My people. “Hello, Darling” I released all their heartache, all the desolation that had sat stuffed in my chest, next to a billion unanswers. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to find you.” I sobbed out all the nights in isolation. I remembered all those who dissolved without a word. “I won’t ignore you any longer.” I poured the rest of my bleeding mind into her. “We can be alone, together.” She Opened wide. I kissed her cheek.
“I forgive you, dear.”
Yes, this will do.
I let her teeth rip through me.
Finally.
Now, don’t worry, wanderers. We win, in the end. I became the wind and Crow’s Point lived on, broken but mended. I tear over my town now, forgetful, fluid, and scrambled, my memories spread out around my rambling plains and golden deserts. I caress my birds during the day and sing with my stars at night. My town moves forward, free and blessed. Curiosity’s Final Rest.
Mary Chiarrocchi