She laughed for her wasted, difficult life that never had to be wasted or difficult in the first place.
To my mother, I was everything. To my father, nothing at all. To my grandmother, I was a daily reminder of loves long lost.
Folks around here like to say we came from the stars. Perhaps it's simpler to think of us not as human but as creatures made of stardust--that if you cut us, not blood but constellations will pour from out wounds.
The days she was finally brought out of the house would later be remembered as a day when shadows seemed blacker, as if something more lingered in those darkened spaces.
Fate. As a child, that word was often my only companion. It whispered to me from dark corners during lonely nights. It was the song of the birds in spring and the call of the wind through bare branches on a cold winter afternoon. Fate. Both my anguish and my solace. My escort and my cage.
Up here it seems we have only the stars, but even they seem small in the midst of that terrifying night sky...I suppose even monsters can be afraid of the dark.
The whole world had given up on love anyway and clung instead to its malformed cousins: lust, narcissism, self-interest.