The sky was as dark as it had been every other night, with the only difference being a pregnant moon, which hung precariously, suspended between the clouds high up in the sky. Down upon the forest floor a myriad of creatures went about their nightly business, the moon’s light reflecting off their dark eyes and equally dark coats. A brown owl launched itself out of its nest, intent on filling its stomach, and glided on its powerful wings, its glassy eyes searching the darkness that spanned below it. A sudden, near undetectable movement and the owl dropped, only flying aloft again when the unlucky rodent had been secured in its deadly talons. In the sky, a cast of bats danced above the looming shapes of the giant conifer trees, sweeping through the air and creating graceful arcs, in a seemingly effortless way, as if they had been born to perform. However graceful they seemed though, they all seemed to head in the same direction, quite unlike their usual hunting habits, of flying alone, and very similar to their migrating ones. Winter must be near.
In the never ending forest was a seemingly random house, which stood in an equally random clearing in the middle of the forest. Its timber walls, blending in with its wooden surroundings, offered a great protection to it’s occupants from the chilling effects of the coming winter. Square windows of glass were set into the timber walls and from them, the light of several oil lamps spilled out across the dark ground, like milk across tables.
Looking into a downstairs window, you would find the rectangle shape of the living area. One big room which spanned the length and width of the house. A flight of stairs stood in the top left hand corner, next to the front door of the house, with what seemed to be children’s play things, stacked up in the underbelly of the steps themselves, hidden amongst the warm shadows. In the middle of the opposite wall stood a fireplace, with only tiny embers left as evidence that it had been lit sometime during the day. A green rug took up the most part of the floor, its vast sea of green interrupted every now and again by a stain of mud or food, which had the looks of having been scrubbed at relentlessly.
To the right of the room was the cooking area, a rough counter tried to separate it from the living area but it was a failed attempt as a few bricks lay, strewn across the floor and a wooden toy ship bobbed in the kitchen sink. An old and black pot belly stove stood in the far corner, its cavernous stomach currently empty but for the charcoal remains of some previous log. Next to the overweight stove stood what looked like a clay table. This was in fact what the cook of the house used to create her culinary masterpieces. It was a simple hollow block of clay which sat on the floor. In the side was a hole in which coal and logs could be lit to provide the heat which one would cook with. On top of the cooker were two holes with which grilles had been embedded into and could be used for cooking. Though currently it was void of, both pots and pans.
The sound of laughter and quiet chatter floated down from upstairs, where the inhabitants of the house were gathered. There were three rooms upstairs, two bedrooms and one bathroom. The master bedroom was by far the biggest room, with a large double bed situated in the centre of the room and two bedside tables beside it. Each holding an exquisite lamp, which illuminated the figure propped up in bed. The figure itself was busy reading his book, ‘A Horse’s Needs and Wants’ while awaiting the arrival of his wife.
He looked up at the clock which hung on the opposite wall. 9:23. He thought for a bit, his eyes were fixed on the clock but that was not he saw. All of a sudden he seemed to snap out of his stupor, got up and crossed the room, glancing at his reflection in the wardrobe mirror on the way out. Silently he walked to the bathroom and relieved himself before padding back to his own room. Once again he stole a quick glance at what he saw in the mirror. Though this time he stopped before getting into bed and retraced his steps to stop in front of the reflective surface which hung on the inside of his wardrobe. He glanced at his defined muscles, his black mop of hair and his unsmiling lips. He gazed at his own shining eyes and finally let them slide down to his disfigured nose, the results of a fight he’d had long ago. His blank features twisted into a grimace, such unhappiness the sight of his nose caused him and he nearly growled out loud. His crumpled face smoothed itself out as the sounds of laughter rang through the house. He smiled to himself as he climbed back into bed and reached for his book once more. Intent on finishing the chapter before his wife arrived.
Next door the sound of laughter continued as a mother with black hair and piercing lilac eyes tickled her daughter. The little girl was a miniature version of her mother. The only difference being her eyes, lilac as they were they held a cold hard light, which she’d inherited from her father and to his happiness her nose was not disfigured at all.
“I think it’s time you got to sleep now dear.”
"Awww. But mum,” the child stretched the last word and tried to reason with her mother, “you haven’t told me a bed time story yet.”
The older woman laughed, her eyes scrunched up and her lips parted, revealing her brilliant teeth. The sound of her laughter filled the house and she could hear her husband chuckling at her enthusiasm next door. Finally she stopped laughing and answered her daughter. “Okay, if I tell you a short story will you go to sleep?”
The little girl crossed her arms and seemed to think hard about her answer. Finally she reluctantly replied. “Okay….” Then suddenly and with excitement she shouted, “But only if you tell me the one about Astella!”
“The one about Astella? Why that one?”
“’Cause I like all the pretty descriptions,” the little girl grinned and her eyes glittered, already knowing that she’d get what she wanted.
Her mother grinned at the display of confidence. “Okay. The story of Astella’s Creation it is.” She cleared her throat and settled down
into her daughter‘s plush bed, ready to unfold the tale which was ‘Astella’s Creation’. “Once upon a time, back when Astella had not yet been born, the universe was empty of all its stars. There were no stars that went-”
“Twinkle twinkle in the sky! And no stars that in the morning you said goodbye!”
The mother mock frowned and said, “Since you know the story so well, why don’t you tell me how it goes? Hmm?” Her mock frown deepened.
Quickly sorry for her interruption the child tried her best to right her wrong. “No mum! I want you to tell it! You tell it much better than me! And … and I‘m sorry for talking when you‘re telling the story! I won‘t do it again,” finished the child. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout.
“Well if you want me to continue the story you have to be good and listen to it okay?” The woman leaned down to look into her daughter’s eyes, while at the same time she placed a hand reassuringly on the child’s head.
“Okay. I be quiet and listen now.”
“Good. Now let me start again. Once upon a time, back when Astella had not yet been born, the universe was empty of all its stars. There were no stars that twinkled in the sky and no stars that said ‘goodbye’ and went home when they saw the morning sunlight. In fact the universe was just a big black space and the only thing in it was the beginnings of magic.
“Little coloured specks of them flew around the universe like it was a big playground, except they made no sound and they had no fun. They just flew around, all over, up and down, left and right, but they never crashed. This was because whenever they got too close to another speck of magic they would know and fly a different direction. This way, they all avoided one another and continued to whizz around the universe.
“But one day two specks of magic were heading towards each other and they didn’t change direction. BOOM! They crashed into each other and their magic went all over the place, hit other specks of magic which made their magic go all over the place. Specks of magic were going BOOM and suddenly the whole universe was filled with colour and a bright flash of light. Then when the flash of light disappeared, instead of the universe being filled with black, it was lit with stars and suns and planets. That was how Astella was born. But where did all the magic go? Well they had become the trees, the ground the water and everything else that you see. That is also why when we use magic, we sometimes use the power of nature all around us.” With the story finished the mother looked at her daughter, whose face was filled with the same awe as the one she got when she saw her father chop down the mile high trees around their house. “Now that I’ve finished the story, will you go to sleep now dear?” The child didn’t answer for her attention had switched from her mother to something else. “Dear, answer me when I’m talking to you.” It was then that she noticed that something was different about her child. “What’re you looking at?” She turned around to face what her daughter had been staring at.
Only to be confronted with the sight not very unlike the one she had just been describing in her story. On the horizon sat a bright light which mimicked the rising sun except the light was very much harsher and seemed to drain all the colour from its surroundings.
“What is that mummy?” The little girl’s voice was strained as if she was afraid that talking would cause something terrible to happen.
The woman got up from her daughter’s bed and walked towards the window. “I don’t know dear.” A sickening feeling began to creep its way into her heart. Something was happening and she didn’t like it.
A soft thud and soon her daughter was beside her, standing on a stool in order to see out of the window. She commented, “Maybe a star’s fallen down...”
Her mother couldn’t help but smile a little at that and said, “Maybe it has. Or maybe it’s the moon and not a star at all,” she replied, not sure as to whether she was trying to convince her daughter or herself.
As they watched, the light upon the horizon started to shrink and soon it disappeared altogether and the forest returned back to normal, though they continued to stare out of the window, unsure of what to do. The relieved woman turned away from the window when her child suddenly exclaimed, “Mum look it’s coming back!” With untamed speed she turned towards the window and sure enough the speck upon the horizon had reappeared and was growing, growing until it had reached the size it had been a couple of moments earlier. For awhile it stayed that way. The size it had been when mother and daughter had caught that first glimpse of it. Then as they watched it started to pulsate as if it was alive. Something seemed to writhe underneath its non-existent skin, slowly at first as if stretching then accelerating as if struggling free from a net of some sort. The pair which stood at the window continued to watch in silence as the light alternated between pulsing and simply glowing.
Then, once again without warning, the light seemed to deflate upon itself and disappeared only to reappear immediately and grow again. As it grew its light intensified and drained the colour of its surroundings. So bright, it was that the sky overhead turned into a canvas of black, so bright that it drowned out the magnificence of the stars and the silent moon.
As the light neared its peak it slowed down and eventually stopped growing then, just like before it seemed to contort and twist, like a caught fish trying to escape from the net in which it had become entangled in. It wriggled and wormed then suddenly it seemed to break out of the net and exploded, a great ball of light which blinded both mother and child.
She could hear her daughter screaming, “Mum! MUM! I can’t see!” her sentence ending with loud sobs and crying. Little hands grasped at her dress and she heard the sound of banging around next door. Her husband's voice rang through the house but she couldn‘t make out the words for her daughter's own voice drowning out everything else. Then a rumbling sound permeated the ear and seemed to fill her ears so that soon all she could hear was the rumbling itself. It shook her, right to the very core of her being. No longer could she feel the little hands which had attached themselves to her dress just moments ago and she could no longer feel the floor beneath her feet, such was the strength of the sound, which ran through her body, consuming her whole and leaving her with nothing but her thoughts.