Land of a Million Stars

I slept for a long time. And I dreamt this time, too. The dream world was beautiful and lush, overflowing with lilies, and a sparkling lake. I was there with my brothers and Wade and with Quinn and my mom and my dad.

We all sat in a circle and held hands. They all smiled at me, and they all were happy. And I smiled, too. But I didn’t feel happy. I felt sad and I couldn’t figure out why. Quinn was on one side of me and Wade on the other. They both held my hand and smiled lovingly at me. My parents held hands and they both glowed. My brothers were nodding at me. I didn’t understand why.

I turned to Quinn. “Why am I here?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything, just smiled and nodded at me. I looked at Wade and asked him the same question. I got the same response. As I looked around the circle, everyone was smiling and nodding at me. And then, faster than I could blink, they all began to disappear. Wisps of smoke billowed from their bodies but they kept smiling and nodding, smiling and nodding.

Wade and Quinn slipped from my grasp, growing more and more smoke-like. Terror filled my stomach, engulfing my very core. I couldn’t speak or breathe. I couldn’t move.

And then I was awake, screaming, and arms were wrapping around me and I was sobbing.

“Shh, Ella, sh,” a voice murmured. I couldn’t see. Everyone was black, black, black. I felt suffocated, consumed by the darkness. I kept sobbing. I flung my arms about wildly until something caught them and held them still. “Ella, shhh. It’s okay. It was only a dream. Only a dream. Sh.”

Slowly the vision returned. Shapes at first and then color. Quinn was staring at me, worried and a little scared. “Are you okay?” Quinn whispered. I nodded, shoulders slumping. My body ached. I felt as if I’d run for hours on end. “What was the dream about?”

“Everyone I loved was there,” I said softly. “They just kept smiling at me and nodding and then they all… vanished, into wisps of smoke and I couldn’t catch them. Everything slipped through my fingers.” I shook my head. “It was so… so scary. I didn’t know what was happening and I couldn’t control it. Everything left and I was alone.”

Quinn took my hands. “You won’t ever be alone, El,” he said. “Because I’m going to be here for you.” I nodded again. I knew he would be. Quinn brushed the hair from my face. “Sleep some more. I have a feeling that didn’t rejuvenate you enough.”

“You’re right,” I replied. I lay back down, finally taking in my surroundings. Quinn’s room. He’d decorated it more. Some posters were tacked to the walls and there weren’t as many boxes. It looked good.

Something flashed out of the corner of my eye and I turned my head.

“Sorry,” Quinn mumbled sheepishly. He lowered his camera. “You looked so… innocent and pretty. I wanted to capture that.” I buried my head into Quinn’s pillow. Sleep came quickly and this time, I didn’t dream.



When I woke up, light was streaming in the windows and the house was quiet. I sat up and squinted. I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair. A square of paper caught my eye. It was on the pillow next to where my head had been. My name was written in neat, capital letters. I grabbed it.

Ella –

Sorry you had to wake up alone but I had to go to school.
I’ll be straight home after school if you still want to stick
around. If not, you know where to find me. Hope you slept
well.

Love, Quinn

I smiled at Quinn’s thoughtfulness and folded the note back up, sticking it in my pocket. I yawned and stretched, reaching my arms high above my head. The clock on Quinn’s nightstand caught my attention. It was nearly eleven. I’d slept a long time.

I got up and walked around Quinn’s room, looking at his posters and rummaging through his things. I didn’t find much. Quinn wasn’t the type to have porn magazines stashed anywhere in his room and he seemed to like band posters rather than the normal sports or cars posters. He was partial to black and white photos, liked the simplicity.

After I’d snooped around Quinn’s room, I headed to my house. My mom was gone but Frankie was there. He was sitting in the living room, with the blinds drawn and a bottle of vodka in his hand. He was playing home videos on the TV.

The whole scene reminded me of those movies with the drunken dad who obsesses over the death of their son or daughter. Then I looked on the TV.

I’d never seen this video before. There was Mom, smiling and laughing. Then the camera moved. It was our backyard. Frankie was there, a little eleven year old kid with big ears. He was playing catch with Zeke, who was fourteen. And then I toddled into the picture.

“I wanna play!” the six year old me yelled.

“No,” Zeke said. “You’re too little.”

“Am not!” I shouted.

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Mommy!” I ran over to Mom, shrieking and crying. I wrapped my arms around her leg.

“Zeke, Frankie,” Mom scolded. “Let your sister play.”

“But she’s such a baby,” Frankie protested. Zeke nodded.

“I am not a baby,” I said.

“You are too,” Zeke said.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Mom looked at the camera and smiled. “Jacob, will you handle this?” The camera exchanged hands and my dad entered the picture. My throat tightened.

“Dad?” the real life me whispered.

Dad looked at Mom and made a funny face. Then he leaned down and scooped me up in his arms. I laughed. “Why won’t you boys let your sister play?” he asked Zeke and Frankie.

“Cause she’s a baby,” Frankie said.

“I am not. I am six years old.” I stuck my tongue out. But before I could find out how Dad handled things, the TV clicked off.

Frankie staggered to his feet. The bottle of vodka in his hand obviously wasn’t the first one he’d had. “Oh Frankie,” I said softly. Frankie took another drink and nearly collapsed. He gripped the wall for support.

The phone rang, sharp and loud in the silence of the house. Frankie grabbed it and put it to his head. “Hello?” he slurred. He paused. “What the hell do you want?” Pause. “Yeah. She’s dead. You’re a little late.” I moved closer to Frankie so I could hear the other voice too. “She killed herself.”

“She what?!”

“Drove her car into a tree.”

“No. No. Ella wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, well. She did. She’s not the same six year old you knew, Dad.”

“I – I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your fucking apologies.”

There was a long, long pause there. Frankie was seething, breathing hard, and swaying on his feet.

“I’m going to come. I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. I need to say goodbye to my daughter.”

“Oh, just like you said goodbye the last time you left?”

“Frankie, I didn’t have a choice – ”

“Bullshit. Goodbye, Dad.” Frankie slammed down the receiver and collapsed on the floor. I felt his emotions seep through him and into the air. It weighted me down. I gasped under the pressure. I needed to get out of here.