Shooting Star

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A cool breeze plays with my hair as I walk up toward the lost and forgotten. An unusually big gust of wind pushed the structure, making it spin with a high pitched squeak. This used to be a living, moving star, but has been darkened with time. The rust slowly wins over the majestic giant, covering the mass in the soft reds and browns, and greenery consumes that. The yellow paint shows that time has had its toll. In its faded glory it still tries to brighten the day and make me happy on this overcast day, as only yellow can. I sit on the dreary, broken up grey concrete and stare at the beauty before my eyes, each eroding metal rod working together, helping all to stay alive.

This forgotten story has been found and is in my possession now. I come by here when the weather is fair and just sit and listen. I hear about snips of people’s lives they themselves have probably forgotten. It tells me what it has seen, like an old man looking fondly into his past. I hear of child who held onto Daddy’s hand, too scared to look down, also of the teenagers, rocking the cart back and forth trying to make the most out of their spin. From a couple’s first kiss, to a curious boy whose head can just barely see over the edge. Images fill my mind of the man trying to face his fear, and the woman who just discovered hers.

Every day I sat there, listening to other peoples’ lives, waiting for my story, the one I was trying to make sense of and uncover. I knew it was keeping me waiting on purpose; I had to be ready for the truth. I stayed strong and kept coming back day after day, but from the moment I heard that squeak, I knew today was going to be the day I would discover what lay hidden in my mind. It brought me back to June 22, 1960, the week after I celebrated my 22nd birthday. It reminded me of the beautiful dress I wore, blue and white striped, new, hugged my waist and made me look so pretty. That dress would follow me the rest of my life, yet never be worn again. I looked around at this world one last time and let myself be pulled into this vision.

I yanked my boyfriend down the newly poured concrete road, toward the giant wheel.
“Oh! Let's go on this next!” I plead, batting my eyes a little.

“We will later, at the end.”

My disappointment must have shown because he quickly pushed me toward the concessions and bought me a bright pink stick of cotton candy. The cotton candy tasted sweet in my mouth, it melted on my tongue and made my fingers sticky with its sugar. I kept on wanting to go on the giant wheel, its presence ever known as it towered over us, its lights like colorful stars in the clear night. Yet, my boyfriend kept on informing me that would be the last thing we do, he promises. I reluctantly agree and am dragged away from the bright star to the bumper cars.

I waited patiently until it was time to ride that shooting star, finally when it was getting late I felt myself being lead over to it. I remember looking up, the lights blinding my eyes. We wait in line, the excitement almost too unbearable. We get on our assigned number and quickly his arm is over my shoulder. From here my mind goes blank, but since it has no mind, it has nothing to forget. From another world I see the cart reach the top. I see the happy young couple kiss. I see the stars in the dark night sky. I see the gun be pulled out. For the first time I see my lover shoot me. I see the panic as our number reach the ground. I see the people all crowd around. I see my boyfriend slip away unnoticed, not regretting anything. I have seen enough. As I float away to my eternal resting place, the truth now burned into my mind, I am calm as I look unto the once shooting star. The truth has set me free. No longer must I stay awake in agony over what once was. I fulfilled my mission and now, I can live among the stars.





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