Starlight

Trigger warning: description of death and blood

Thou who scorn at His creation, even though all that He made are undoubtedly equal in value, shall be damned into the world below. Thy ability to soar shall be replaced, thus thy attempt to reach heaven shall forever be futile.

On dark nights, like Mother always told me when I was a little girl, I should always lock the door and windows. There should be no objects that could let anything into the house stay opened. She said, there are creatures of the dark that could sneak inside if we didn’t  lock the doors and windows, creatures of the dark that would steal our wings and eat our souls within. 

One night, Mother forgot to lock the window. She was found lying on the kitchen floor the next day. Her wings were gone and her blood was on the walls. Her eyes were hollow. Since that day, I always locked the doors and windows to keep demons out.

Sometimes I wonder why people like us have wings. Mother used to tell me stories about how demons and winged people came to be, about why they don’t have wings and always craving for ours. Why they could only barge in a house that didn’t have locked doors and windows. Why they only hunted us.

Even though I have wings, Mother would never let me fly. 

“They’ll see you,” she said at first.

“It would be easier for them to find you,” she explained the second time I asked her.

“It’s dangerous,” she said the last time and I never nagged her about flying anymore.

I could see how terrified she was about demons. She always told me to go off to bed right after the sunset. I disobeyed her once and peeked at her from upstairs. I saw her standing beside the front door while both of her hands held a kitchen knife. Someone, or something, banged at the door over and over again, made her almost cry. The next day, she scolded me because she actually saw me peeking from upstairs. She ordered me to go to my room after dark so the demons could not find me. 

“Always be ready, with a weapon in hand to attack them if they managed to burst the door open,” she explained the reason she was standing beside the front door.

“Upstairs is a safe place. They thought that we flew to get to the second floor, and they can’t fly. Just keep the stairs hidden.”

I got curious pretty often. Once I got curious about what it feels like to fly. I knew this pair of wings were attached on my back for a reason. I tried to fly, from the second floor, when mother was away to the market. I climbed up to my bedroom window and tried to flap my wings hard before I jumped out. And I fell down. 

I fell down and I didn’t expect it to happen. I thought at least I would float a bit. I thought at least I wouldn’t hit the ground so hard. But I did and I cried until my eyes ran out of tears. Not only because it hurt so much, but also because I felt like my wings were fake. Like they didn’t belong to me. Mother found me on the ground and screamed in shock after she found out that my leg was broken. She then allowed me to sleep in her room until it healed. That day, we decided that there would be no more flying attempts in the future.

“Jealousy starts everything,” she told me once, more like a warning than a storytelling.

She always told me that demons are those creatures that don’t appreciate Lord’s creation. They are made of fire and we are only made of earth, so they thought that they value more than us. Demons refused to be equal to us, which made Lord furious. Lord ripped the demons’ wings off and attached them to our backs before He banished them to the world below. 

We were sent to the world below as well to guide the demons. Lord wanted us to make the demons realize we were no different whatever we are made of. But because demons are made of fire, they unleashed their wrath upon us and also upon Him. Instead of making peace with us, they kept trying to steal back the wings to fly back above by themselves, leaving us down here to perish.

“I forbid you to fly because there is a chance that they might see you. There is no need to throw salt on an open wound, alright?”

That story convinced me ever more that these wings were not mine. Should never have been mine.

Mother also told me how to cast some spells, a few simple spells to make my life easier and more secure. For example, how to move an object with only a swift of a hand, how to make yourself invisible for a few minutes, and most importantly how to lock the door and windows. We could only cast simple spells because our powers were not strong enough for complicated ones.

“These wings are a heavy burden,” she explained.

She told me over and over again to always lock the doors and windows using the spell because demons could still barge in if we didn’t. Before she died, she taught me how to nullify another’s ability to cast spells.

“Every being in this world, us, witches and wizards, kings and queens, even demons are able to cast spells. If you feel insecure when you encounter someone, use this spell immediately.”

I’ve never used it even once, though, because it was never needed. Because I thought that she would always be there for me.

Mother loved my name. She always said to me that my name is beautiful and wished to have a name like mine. Starlight, that means specs of hope in deep darkness. Starlight, that also means the luck to survive the night. Starlight, that means a wonderful feeling knowing you are still alive in the morning in one piece. Even my hair has the color that matches my name. That is why she gave me that name and always dressed in me in white.

I took care of the house after my mother died. I was in shock to the point that I was unable to scream, speak, move nor cry. I ran out to look for help from all my neighbours, and together, we buried my mother. Afterwards, I still had to wash off her blood that had splattered over the kitchen on my own. 

The blood may have washed off, but the memories hadn’t. That was why I put Mother’s picture all over the house. I almost never use my room anymore and slept in Mother’s room all the time instead. I barely set foot on the second floor since that day. I thought, what’s the point? I couldn’t even fly. It only gave me a fake feeling of being a few meters off the ground.

*

I always went out during the day because staying at home gave me an uneasy feeling. Every vibe that the house gave out suffocating me. It reminded me of everything: the idea of Mother’s death, the idea of being hunted and the idea of being unable to fly. 

In the early morning, I usually went out for a walk. Sometimes I went to the market to buy some food when my supplies ran out. That day, I decided to visit the market after I realised that there was nothing to cook for lunch. On that very afternoon, when I walked back home, something strange had occurred. A sudden darkness covered the sky. I could see people rush back home and lock their doors and windows in a hurry. 

My heart raced. My breathing quickened. I forced both of my feet to run faster than I had ever run before. But obviously my speed wouldn’t beat the darkness that covered the sun. I didn’t give up. I didn’t want to give up. I kept on running and running until finally reached the house and immediately slipped inside. I didn’t think twice to lock the doors and windows with a spell. But it was a little too late.

I could feel a strange choking aura right after I entered my house. It was warm, but not a comforting one; more like the one that makes you hard to breathe. Nullifying spell, nullifying spell. I repeated it over and over in my mind, but was unable to say it out loud since my lips were trembling greatly. Terrified stutters were the only sound that came out. The images of Mother’s death suddenly flashed before me. Both my knees and my arms were shaking hard, until I dropped all of my groceries. 

His long, dark red hair was the first feature that I noticed. His smirk was next as he bared his perfectly sharp teeth. Smoke came out from his smile, made me realise that he breathed fire. His golden eyes pierced my courage until I could give out a whimper. His attire was no different from a magician: white, long sleeved blouse and black trousers. If not for his sharp teeth, he could be one. But there he was, sat in front of me, the demon himself.

Thou who have my flesh and bone attached on your back, I shall attach it back to where it belongs.

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