Tell me a story - tell me a story about a girl who stole all the night stars with her hungry, starved hands and stuffed them in her mouth so that she could feel some warmth  (in this cold, cold world)  it would fill within her and she would be a pot of golden happiness, like the all stories she heard - but instead (because nothing is ever easy) a burning, blazing (ugly, blood-spilled) fire razed her as her teeth bit into the stars

  She had released a monster in a quest to quench her hunger (how far will you for yours, how much blood will you spill till this life enough, satisfactory) 

(how far will you go, to defy death and bring her back)

Tell me that story about the girl who begged for the fire of the stars and instead - was consumed and her world was left to scorch with the fire of the stars that burned with the force of a hundred suns ( blinding white-hot) weight against her throat (they said one drop would save her; they said one drop and you can save her but the rest world of the world burned in your haste, your desperation)

(but i just wanted to save her) (it’s not fair) (she was never supposed to die now… not yet) 

(but oh dear, when is ‘yet’ ever gonna come) (you can never be ready for death) 

And now, look at you - (was it all worth it)?

She’s - (I’m) drowning in hollow black that steals breath with bony (sharp-sharp) soft hands; ghost hands made of ash of burned stars (that you stomped under your feet) (she’s gone and no one’s gonna listen to your wish) and spilled-blood of darkness (the depths your willing to drown to),  it grabs and takes, takes, takes till - there’s nothing left but open mouths and white screams and a world of white (they said, they promised) (oh, but you knew) (they were lying, dear). White, White, White. Everything turns white. Leaves you aching and bereft, a type of hunger existing in your bones - slowly killing you inside out. 

(somewhere, far away there’s a crack, dark laughter) (you can feel it’s sharp ripples of glass in your feet) 

She can’t explain in words but each parts of her (me, me) aches. It cries out - for something - for - for – love. It screams till there are only words. 

(she is gone, gone, gone) 

Your vomiting on words, on words that leave your mouth in acid and leave it raw-raw red (you want rip from your throat). It fucking itches and no matter how much you fucking try to wash off, no matter how much you try to drown that disgusting feeling in his kisses (swallow the guilt, dig your nails into the meat of it)- no matter how you try to crush it under the force of his teeth, in the heat of his mouth. It persists and fucking haunts you. 

You Made A Mistake. And Now You Have To Pay (dig, dong the devil is knocking at your door)   

   _ make your choice now, girl what is gonna be? 

                  (what are you gonna murder today? hearts on silver plate aren’t the fashion now)

You kiss him desperate and hungry but when night comes and the world is silent and the stars’ fire burns down - you can feel it, the red-acid disgusting feeling (it always fucking comes back). It crawls into your dreams (nightmares) and you wake up with bruised black under your eyes and everything burns. (so bright it’s too much, you can’t. you can’t) (STOP)

I can’t breathe. Yes, you can. No, I can’t. I can’t fucking breathe. I can’t. You can. I can’t. (help me - please).  

There’s something crawling in your heart, darkness imitating hands buried in your heart filling everything with night stars that burn sharp-bright and you can taste the stinging black blood at the back of your throat.

Like panic, like yearning - like hands. Hands. Hands. 

and you (I) hate - it. I hate it. I hate it. So damn much. (she’s dead. the world’s dying and you gotta pay up) (crave out your soul and offer it on a silver plate and don’t forget the spices of want, desperation, hate to add flavour) 

Sharp blue eyes in darkness and cold, cold bone hands. “Where is my payment, girl.”

Blood, blood sharp in your mouth, ”Fuck you.” Pause. (Terror looks you in the eye.) “And it’s Jay, you fucker.”

A last smile and twisted laugh and you fall, fall. 

.

.

.

Was it all worth? 

Yes. 

I met this girl who loved amusement parks and carnivals, we talked about different ones that we had been to before we met. So me being me I thought to myself, what would be a perfect date for her? I knew we wouldn’t have time to travel to an amusement park for this date and there was no carnivals in town. So I did the next best thing, I brought the carnival home. The weekend before our date I put together a k-nex Ferris wheel and roller coaster in my living room, I made a sign reading “Hartly’s Town Fair.” I purchased some balloons and all the carnival foods I could think of. I bought corn dogs, and popcorn, I made some candy apples, I bought Krispy Kreem donut mix to make a funnel cake. I knew this was going to blow her away. The time came for her to see how much attention to detail I have, and how I can turn a limited time day into an amazing evening. When she arrived at my house I plugged in the chaser white Christmas lights I have to add to the feel of the environment. I was right her face said it all, she was blown away! We enjoyed the delectables as we played with the toy roller coaster and Ferris wheel that I spent countless hours fabricating. As the evening wore on I decided to reveal my t-shirt by removing the button down shirt I had on. When she saw it she busted out laughing as it read “you must be this tall to ride this ride” with a line just under the writing for the measurement! She was impressed exclaiming “WOW, you thought of everything!” “Indeed I did!” I replied. After some more banter, I told her “hey it’s getting late, why don’t you go ahead and get on top of me so I can guess your weight!” And that’s when she left!

“Damian, can you clean the dishes for me.” Mikaela asked, turning towards Damian. The demon agreed to do it, and proceeded to grab the plates to wash, but the demon tripped and saw in horor as the dishes careened towards the floor. The demon curled up into a ball and started to cry, using his wings to cover his face, while whispering to himself. “Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, it was an acident, I didn’t mean too, I’m sorry.” Mikaela went over to the demon and gently wrapped his arm around the demon, comforting the demon. “I will never hurt you, Damian.” The demons tears slowed and he calmed down a little bit. “I’m sorry I got so upset, it’s just, Asher would hurt me if- if I broke a plate or something like that. Mikaela cursed him under his breath. “Damian, I will protect you, no matter what, no matter when, I will always be there to protect you, because I love you.” Mikaela hugged the demon, who sat their. There they lay comfortable for an hour.

a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a

The ocean is supposed to be loud. I can feel the breeze on my face and in my hair, I can feel the sand between my toes, and I can see the beautiful sun leaving to get ready for the next day.

But I cannot hear. I am deaf.

A hand waves in front of my face catching my attention, I looked up to make eye contact with him. My eyes shifted as I watched his hands move.

“Are you okay?” he signed

I smiled and nodded, “Let’s go.” I signed back and grabbed his hand.

We ran as the silent laughs wrapped around me, tripping and stumbling down a sand dune until we made it to our spot. A small patch of grass overlooking the beach.

I tackled him to the ground as I watched him laugh, his laughter addicting to my broken ears.

I rolled off of him and onto the ground. His hand found mine.

I watched the waves roll in and out trying to think back and remember what they sound like. I remember them being loud but comforting. I put it out of my mind because it didn’t matter at the moment. I turned to see him staring already. I smiled and laughed once again.

My smile faded slowly, if there was one thing I could wish for... it would be to hear his laugh right now.

I grabbed his hands to get his attention and then slowly brought them up to say something.

“Do you ever wish I could hear?” I signed. His eyes widened as he furiously shook his head. I was close enough to be able to read his lips.

“To me you’re perfect,” he said smiling but it didn’t reassure me.

“What about speak?” I signed knowing he knew I didn’t really like to speak. He got closer.

“You are perfect to me,” he said again, putting his hand on my heart. I smiled and nodded as he pulled me into a hug.

I tried to imagine his breathing and the sound of the waves once more but decided not to, that maybe silence is more defining. Silence means that everything else means more; touch, smell, sight. What I have is enough, I am lucky, and I am loved.

I looked back up.

“I love you,” I said, or at least I think I said it. He understood no matter and smiled mouthing, “I love you too” back.

I was coming home from TAFE* on the usual route 52 Eaglehawk bus I take. When it stopped at the hospital, an overweight lady with black hair boarded and walked towards me. I didn’t expect her to take the seat besides me; there were other unoccupied chairs, but whatever, she plonked herself alongside me.

(*Technical and Further Education, an institution you can enter in Australia after high school.)

She immediately initiated a conversation. I found this odd, as I’d never seen this lady before. She asked me what I’d been up to today? I just told her I was coming home from TAFE. She then went on, telling me her friends wanted her to get a job.

TAFE can help you find work, I told her. My brother completed a course and from there was able to find work.

I wasn’t sure if she listened to me as she then went on a tangent about struggling to quit smoking. Her breath did smell quite strongly of cigarettes.

She was pretty honest about herself. She told me she doubted she had the necessary skills to enter the workforce. And she had no qualifications or a resume to offer anyone. I could relate to her on that score.

I asked if she’d been to Matchworks. There was a branch right here in Bendigo. She hadn’t, and wasn’t even aware Matchworks was here.

It was around this time that she reached her stop. She said see ya later, like we were good friends, and disappeared from the bus.

*

The following morning, I left early for TAFE, which began at 9am.

I was surprised to see that lady from yesterday board the bus once more, again around the hospital spot. She gave a wave of recognition to me, and stood at the front of the bus as there were no seats remaining.

I could hear voices muttering behind me.

“Check that out.”

“Wide load incoming.”

A series of disparaging remarks issued forth as the bus continued its journey towards the CBD. Before getting off the bus I turned around and emptied my bottle of water down the back of the shirt of one of the offenders. “What the-” he cried out.

My heart thundered as I left the bus.

“What was that all about, huh?” It was the young guy I’d emptied the water down his shirt. I’d say maybe 18, 19 years old. I just stood there silently. I really wasn’t sure what to say. People were beginning to stare. I didn’t want to make anymore of a scene.

The youths seemed unsure what to make of me. Eventually they left. I wasn’t surprised. My eyes have kind of an intense look about them and tend to freak people out.

The woman I’d seen once more on the bus had long since vanished. Trying my best to recompose myself, I headed towards TAFE for another day.

*

The following week I had an appointment at the Bendigo hospital. It was for an infusion of steroids that was meant to stabilise the performance of my lungs. Almost 12 years ago now, I’d had a double lung transplant. Normally I’d take the train down to Melbourne to have the procedure performed, but recently they got everything set up here, so now I don’t have to travel so far.

All I have to do is sit back in a chair for three hours, which is about as tiresome as you’d expect. I do bring along my tablet to keep myself occupied, but unfortunately the hospital has no WiFi. That’s the case with all the hospitals I’ve been to. What’s the deal with that?

For some reason they set up the infusion inside the cancer ward. Well, all the cancer patients are situated to the left, as I receive the infusion. The first time I learned I was going here, I was alarmed; had they picked up something serious in one of my blood samples? Fortunately, they hadn’t.

When the three hours have elapsed, the nurse Wendy removes the canulla from my right hand and tells me I’m free to go. I thank her and wearily make my way towards the front entrance of the hospital.

I’m so tired, I decide to just call for a taxi. As I’m waiting, I catch a glimpse of the overweight lady with black hair. She notices me and walks over.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she says.

“Yes, fancy that,” I say.

Silence.

“What brings you here?” she finally asks.

“I needed an infusion of steroids, to help my lungs. I had a lung transplant a while ago, you see.”

“I see…”

She seems lost in thought, and isn’t the same free speaking type I first met back on the bus that day.

“Are you OK?”

At this point my taxi pulls up. The woman is looking hesitant, looking desperate to say something, and yet something powerful was holding her back.

Just as I was leaving, she slipped a note into my hands. It was her phone number.

She looked down and bit her lip, then headed towards the hospital.

I got into the taxi and told the driver the address of my home.

"Truth or dare, Maddie?"

I turn away from the window I had been staring out of. I sighed and smiled.

"Truth."

The girls in the room giggled with delight. I was the oldest and most quiet. I was surprised that these four girls actually came to my slumber party.

"Ok, Maddie. Is it true that you've been to five different schools?"

Of course, my history. It didn't surprise me though. I was asked about it constantly. I didn't like to say much about it.

"Yes. My mom and I travel a lot to different places, and that moves me to different schools."

"What does your mom do?"

"One question, Tina. That's the rule"

She slumps down in the beanbag chair with her indignant smile. I noticed the other girls were tired. I wasn't particularly tired, but I wasn't normally on this kind of night. I decided we needed to sleep anyway.

"Ok, Tina, Leslie, Courtney, Fallon, let's go to bed."

Tina groaned. She wasn't tired. But she would fall asleep if she knew what was good for her. The other girls looked relieved and settled down easily in their sleeping bags on the floor.

Within an hour, I thought everyone had gone to sleep. Except for me, of course, but I had something to do.

I creeped out of my bed and nimbly tiptoed around the girls toward the window. It was a beautiful fall day, just like every birthday of mine.

When I arrived to the window, I opened it. I felt a calm breeze make its way into my room. I looked around outside. There he was. My father.

I only see him once a year on my birthday. Mom tried to keep us apart by moving, but every year, without fail, he sees me. He knows I'm special. I'm not like these girls.

He makes his way to the window, and he smiles. He strokes my face and kisses my forehead. I could hear him tell me that this year I would get a gift, like no other girl had.

I looked at him and smiled. Just then I heard a shriek. I turned and see Tina wide-eyed and looking at my father.

He curses and asks me why she was awake. I start to tell him about the party, but he was having none of it. He said she can't stay because she saw him.

"No, Dad!" But it was too late. He lifted her and left. He said he would bring my gift tomorrow.

I turn from watching him leave to see Courtney crying.

"What just took Tina?"

I felt something new and dark inside of me. I looked at the clock. 12:01. It was tomorrow. Father's gift.

Courtney stared at me. "Jessie?"

"It was my father, but I can't have you telling others. Now you need to go."

And with a flick of my wrist, she was gone. I think I will enjoy this gift. And I am even more special and different now than ever before.