Traits Of William

Detaching my two halves once again I had found a star to dance with. I departed from my lonely moonless planet, flooded with oceans of tears, drowning down a molten core of bitter infused anger. Deep, out in the space of an empty black garbage bag vacuum, there was a light at the end. It was a strange blue star, unlike any other star I had come across until now, those whose light was yellow in fear of heartbreak and red with the scars of tragedy. I was helpless. Like a cosmic moth floating to his death. But I refused to burn instantly. My body adamant with Darwin’s adapt or die principle I wasn’t going to let the feeling be fleeting.

I inhaled the poisonous flaming gases and learned to breathe fire; my aura was bright with azure flames. But I became so focused on just learning to survive that I forgot about gravity. Every star has a dense gravitational pull that rips every atom towards it. Not for fuel, not for predatation , not for the sake of it. It is simply what happens.

And on the day I finally relaxed my body to becoming the coals of this combusting madness. It vanished. I was back in the pitch blackness of my own soul. And without that gravity that had kept me adrift for so long I was jettisoned back to my lonely planet. Those shooting stars we so often see are dreams crashing on themselves, wrapped in a chorus of their own screams falling on the deaf ears of the planets they pass.

I had never fallen from this high before. I was scared. Tears filled my eyes, but hissed to steam under the intense pressure of my own cloak of flames. To make matters worse, as I returned to my planet, to my other half. I began breaking apart upon re-entry to the atmosphere. By this point I hadn’t noticed that I had been charred, a lump of coal in the shape of a human.

Waiting to be swallowed by my own oceans, I made contact with a ceiling of iron tempered ice. I had been in space so long that I had forgotten my world froze over and the climate had changed. From a phone call from two months prior.