Another illustration from that fund of inspiration ‘The Story of the Sun, the Moon and the Stars’.
Together we watched in the night
The trailing light
A comet’s tail
Dark midnight trail.
I made a wish my lips tight sealed
My eyes revealed
The hopes and fears
For coming years.
I didn’t ask, but you wished too
Away you flew
Left me behind.
Star fate’s unkind.
I’ve just finished round #1 of edits, so to celebrate, I looked at Ronovan’s Friday Fiction prompt. It looked like a good one. Short fiction using at least two of the following words:
Burn, Weave, Cabin, Silver, Hush, Light
I did it. A micro-microfiction of hardly any words. Unfortunately it was a prompt from three months ago. Never mind. the old ones work just as well.
Image©Adam Block/Mount Lemmon SkyCenter/University of Arizona
Comet burned through the night, leaving a trail of silver light. The town slept, but the last child left awake watched through the darkness and the hushed trees bowing solemnly in the dark wind and waved to the celestial body carrying a friend home.
In the silver garden the moon and the comet light shone on the fresh turned earth where a dog would no longer play, and made a river of diamonds of childish teardrops.
Nothing changed. Aeons passed. The trajectory, traced in advance, led always into the darkness. The comet dragged its fiery tail through whistling winds that wove between the stars singing over and over the same song. Stars were born and died in explosions of light that echoed back and forth across the roof of the universe, and still the comet streamed, a river of fire through the void. Salamander. Winged. Ageless.
A beat in time, the comet tore across the horizon of a tiny insignificant planet, a dead rock spinning slowly around a paltry sun, in the wings of the great universal stage. For one instant, men looked into the darkness and saw glory, heard the song of the stars, looked upon the face of infinity. The comet passed. Fire blazed in its wake. Eyes followed, longingly. Hearts yearned to tread the paths of the skies. In a turbulent desert the fingers pointed, stories flew from tongue to tongue. A legend grew.
The comet, with its cargo of singers and celestial brilliance sped by. Time passed. Men forgot why they had yearned to follow the winged salamander. The comet with fire in its tail saw the birth of a billion stars.
In the spaces between the stars
The dust and bones of dead planets
In the cold that lasts forever
A comet roars
Indifferent to the tiny passenger
Dancing in the darkness amid the icy flames.
The comet shrugs and plunges on
While the insect blackens in the cold fire
Its feeble click click
Trailing into silence.