Little Star
Fame & Fortune Episode 1
“You can’t see it anymore, but it’s there,” the girl’s grandmother pointed to the black void above them.
By day, the misty veil cast a drab grey upon their concrete world, protecting them from the harmful radiation that lurked above clouds. Mawmaw was pointing beyond all that to the white cluster known as the “Milky Way,” a galaxy within which our own planet is but a speck of dust.
On this night, she passed another story to her granddaughter: A cloud of white to the west that could once only be seen in the night sky. A great cloud substantiated by the souls of their ancestors.
“Some nights, when the wind is just right, if you squint so hard your nose crinkles, you can see it. Your namesake. The single little star, not yet a part of the cluster, defiantly shining its light back upon us.”
Little Star crimped her nose as she listened, imagining the light. Never had she seen such a thing with her own eyes, but she believed every word Mawmaw had ever told her. Why wouldn’t she?
After some time she gave up and returned her gaze to the cityscape in front of them. Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright neon pinks, yellows, and blues advertising all manner of products they couldn’t afford. The worst were the pushy AR ads that projected on blank surfaces; augmented-reality intrusions advertising star maps, physics courses, and whatever else was garnered by eavesdropping on her conversations.
Her stomach growled. Little Star clenched reflexively, a futile attempt to quiet the noise.
“Here. Take mine. I cannot finish it.” Mawmaw offered the half eaten acorn bread, wrapped in a napkin.
“No thank you.” Little Star stared straight ahead, her eyes locked on an advertisement for male enhancement- whatever that meant. Her ears burned red, angry at her backstabbing stomach.
“I’m old. I could barely finish the first half. Really, take it. You’ll sleep better.”
“No thank you.”
It was hard to tell sometimes who was more stubborn. That will serve her well, grandmother nodded to herself as she sat the bread down on the ledge between them. “Maybe the pigeons will enjoy it.”
“Maybe.”
Mawmaw sat in silence with her granddaughter. Looking up at the sky, breathing deep and steady as she ignored a passing banner offering a free two-month energy drink subscription.
“Mawmaw.”
“Yes child.”
“What happens to them now?”
“To whom?”
“The people who die. If they can’t find the great cloud at night, where do they go?”
Mawmaw let out a breath, “I suppose they are ghosts. Walking the earth until the day the sky finally clears.” She put her arm around the child to comfort her, noticing the gooseflesh forming on her arms. “But don’t worry. You remember the story of Coyote. How he convinced the dead to stop taking the living.”
“Yes.” Little Star lowered her head, still not able to meet her grandmother’s eyes. “But, Coyote set them on fire so they could become the stars.” She looked back up to the sky, ignoring her own banner advertising a free child-friendly bible in exchange for her biometrics. “I think they are in the clouds now. Trapped. Still on fire. That’s why the rain burns.”
She hugged her granddaughter closer, knocking the bread off the ledge to the street below. “Maybe you’re right. I do not know of such things.”
“I thought you knew everything.” The words came out in a giggle.
Now squeezing her grandchild, “Ha. You’ll soon know more than me.”
Little Star knew Mawmaw was talking about her maths. She didn’t know why, but the numbers came easy to her. She found it comforting how they all fit together perfectly. She hadn’t yet come to the inherent contradictions that would one day plague her with greater frustrations than she’d care to admit. For Little Star, the numbers were still an endless source of comfort. The numbers and Mawmaw.
“It’s late. Time to sleep, child.”
“Why?”
“You have school in the morning.”
“You’re my school. We can do it whenever we want.”
“No.” Mawmaw used her firm tone. “No matter what they say about their fake AR daylight, it is important to follow the real sun.”
“You mean the real sun we can’t see. Because of the clouds? Because of the dead?”
“It’s still there. And we will follow it.”
This time grandmother was the more stubborn one. But further tests would come for Little Star.
As they descended the stairs to their room, Mawmaw offered consolation. “Tomorrow, we’ll start by learning about the frog in the moon.”
“The what?” Little Star laughed as she opened the door.
“You’ll see in the morn--Back child!” Mawmaw shoved Little Star behind her in the doorway, putting herself between her granddaughter and the ganger with the bat.
“Aww shit. They’re home, Nate!” The young man spoke to his compatriot down the hallway via their neuro sync. Nathan had stationed himself by the front stairwell to alert Gabriel if anyone were to come. Neither of them expected people to arrive by the emergency stairs.
“Who is it Gabe?” Nathan was already running to help.
“Just some old lady and a little kid.”
Mawmaw’s instincts kicked in. As calm as she could muster, she offered the young man whatever he wanted without conflict.
Looking at the old lady and the young child, Gabe’s heart hurt. But the growl in his stomach hurt more. The smell of fresh bread had kept him here too long as he searched for the source. “Where’s the food?”
“It’s gone.” Mawmaw answered truthfully one hand behind her back ushering Little Star to the door pressed against the wall as Nate arrived.
“Bullshit! It’s fresh. I can smell it.”
“Mawmaw doesn’t lie!” Little Star yelled, sticking her head out through grandmother’s protective barrier. A barrier that collapsed following a dull thud from Nathan’s bat.
“Now I know you’re full of shit.” He smiled, looking down at the heap, “Everyone lies.”
Nate continued into the apartment while Little Star cried at her grandmother’s form. Blood pooled from her head and smeared the floor and she shook her body.
No one came. No one helped.
The two men tossed the apartment. Taking what trinkets they could find. But Mawmaw’s final words rang true- there was no bread to share.
Nathan found an old copper coin jammed between the springs under the cushion of the ancient coach. A penny. Worthless now. A small thing without value.
On the way out, the two men pushed past Little Star, still on her knees in a futile attempt to revive her Mawmaw. He flicked the coin, “Here kid. For your trouble.”
The coin bounced off her head and toppled to the floor. It had corroded over the years, but Little Star detected a small glimmer in the center as her grandmother’s blood pooled around it. A little speck, defiantly shining through an ocean of death.
If you would like to support my work, you can always buy me a coffee using the link below!