The sun had set, and the kittiwakes had returned home from their pelagic winter wanderings. The earth lay asleep under a thick white blanket.
I inclined my resting head upward so I could look at the stars. I sat by the window, mesmerized by their infinite beauty. My gaze focused on the brightest one.
A movement in the corner of my eye forced me to look away. I watched the ground now, the dim glow of flickering streetlights reflecting off the ice-covered driveway, coating it in an iridescent sheen.
My gaze drifted to the garden. When my eyes adjusted to the dearth of light, I found myself looking at a figure. From my vantage, it looked like nothing more than a shadow – short, thin, with a flowing frock. A young girl, perhaps. Two long plaits occasionally fluttered in the wind, and I watched as she slowly lifted herself up until she was standing on her toes.
She should not have been there; the weather was worsening. I decided to talk to her, presumably because I had grown weary of having nothing to do, but more so because her isolation in the harsh weather was worrisome. I put on my coat, knit cap, and gloves and walked out into the snow.
I found her exactly as I had seen her from my home.
The girl of about six or seven years of age stood motionless under an oak tree, framed by the glittering snow. She wore nothing but a short-sleeved cotton frock that reached her knees, not even shoes. Her pale skin stood out in stark contrast to her charcoal hair, punctuated by little snowflakes. She looked fragile and I watched as her frail body trembled in the wind.
She was still standing on her toes, eyes strained at the sky. It seemed as though she was in a trance.
I approached her tentatively.
“Excuse me?”
When she did not respond, I reached out to place my hand on her shoulder.
“Why aren’t you home? Where do you live?”
She spoke, her voice hoarse and no louder than a whisper. “Here.”
“Do you have parents?” I inquired.
“A mother.”
“Where is she?”
She slowly and deliberately raised her hand, pointing at the brightest star in the sky.
“She’s a star?” I asked.
The girl shook her head. “She’s the star.”
A silence ensued, before I said, “You live here?”
“Yes.”
Silence again.
Seeing that she was still standing on her toes, my curiosity reigned, and I asked, “Why are you standing on your toes?”
She seemed to think about it for a moment. Then, “This way, it’s easier to catch the moon. You see, Mummy’s up there, and I’m going to be there soon too. But I must ride the moon to get there. It’s the only way. So, I stand on my tippy-toes. I’m taller then, so I can climb the moon and ride it till I reach Mummy.”
My voice left me. What could I say?
At last, I asked, “Are you cold?”
She nodded.
I offered her my gloves and cap, but she refused.
“I don’t need them. The moon will be high enough soon.”
She declined my invitation to return to my house to stay warm too.
I knew then that there was nothing more I could do. So, I turned and walked away, but not before glancing back one more time to see her arms outstretched, reaching for the sky, and her heels lifted off the ground. Her eyes shone, and I wondered if tonight her wish would come true.
They found her there the next morning, lying in a foetal position under the oak tree, her skin blue and covered in white.
That night, as I looked up at the stars, I could have sworn there was a star right next to the brightest one in the sky, that I had not seen the night before.
– Anisha Mittal (10H)