Original Deviation

She’s finally free, raising her arms and wishing that she could leave through that portal of air known as the atmosphere, through to the stratosphere. She’s aught next to those bright, bright stars mocking her distant presence.

She cares.

And she lies there, under those stars, in a graveyard next to tombstone of the family she still loves, listening to her sweet granddaughter mumble words of aught – her aught of knowing that her grandmother will become a star soon enough.

.

She’s already a nimiety, that poor granddaughter as they walk to their destination, soulfully in full, flat-footed steps. Daughter drops off granddaughter, and they walk hand in hand to a silly little place of decaying corpses breaking beneath their feet.

And all they bring is a basket of fresh-baked pastries and a red-checkered table cloth to sit on.

But, she’s only there to see her family; mother, father, brother, all lost in war. They all had that sense of humor, finding a path to a dear heaven known as the sky; she tells her young one now.

“Do you think you’ll glitter against the moon one day, like when you’re ninety-nine?”

She only asks because she’s that age.

.

“I’m the tutelary goddess of those bright, bright stars,” she screams to the heavens from her nursery home window. An aid walks in on her, shushing her and telling her to take a nap.

It’s only morning. There are no stars.

She knows they’re waiting for her, nonetheless.

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