Author : E.E. King, based on an idea by: Victoria Cyr
She said that her life was over. She said that if a spaceship landed, she’d leave without a backward glance. And one night, while we were having red wine in the backyard, one did.
A beam of light passed through the wine glasses. The past and present were enfolded in a single spectrum.
My three cats sat at the window, transformed from white, orange and black into glowing garnet.
Jasmine stood wrapped in the beam. I could see not just her external self, but inside. Not like an X-ray, nor a cat scan, more akin to an illumination of her soul. She was bathed in colors I had never seen, although they had always surrounded her. They had existed above and below the frequency of my understanding. Now I could see. It was beautiful.
I started toward the light, but looking back, saw my glowing cats with red mouths open. Lifting their paws flat against the window pane, they yeowled. “Don’t go! Don’t leave us here alone and lonely.” And I could not.
She said she’d leave without a backward glance, but that was a lie. For she glanced back at me, while moving forward, taking her wine glass with her.
It was good-by, wordless, but deeper for the words unsaid. Indeed we had no need of words my friend and I. For sometimes words get in the way, turning inside out things you feel but cannot say.
They took her in. Off she sailed, into a night that turned blue violet.
When I wished upon a star it might be her for all I knew.
Until the letters started falling from the sky. Stamped with moonbeams they were and glowing.
I had no need of lamps to read them. They self-illuminated. They had no words, but carried pictures, directly to my brain. Motion was transferred to my tendons. Gestures became part of flesh and bone. I inhaled fragrances. Even though I normally have a poor sense of smell, they were strong, strange and bitter sweet. Tastes flooded my mouth, filling it with memory. I swallowed. Strings vibrated inside me. My cells transformed. My soul sang. After I received a letter I was incandescent.
My cats resented these epistles from above. They sulked and would not sleep with me while I glowed. Only after I ceased to radiate would they let me pet them.
One night a can fell from the sky. I gave thanks that Jasmine had good aim. It hit no one, but drifted down, light as a feather in the night, smelling of tuna, but much more wonderful. The cats were happy. Now they radiated too.
We stopped eating or drinking, the cats and I. We lived on and for the light that fell upon us in the night, smelling of tuna but much more wonderful. Looking like moonbeams but much softer. Tasting like chocolate, ripe berries and love. Glowing like magic in the night.
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