Frozen In Amber
Break the Sky
Lana had spent her whole life learning about the stars. She would roll over in her bed, hair tangled from sleep, and watch them. When the night was clear she simply wouldn’t go to sleep. A small child with curious wide eyes, shining blue and reflecting what the night told her.
When she had grown, Lana figured out how to be closer to the stars. She unclasped her window and pulled the pane up. The cold would bite at her and she’d tug her scarf closer, slip her legs through into the outside world, and jump.
She wouldn’t go out for long. Just wandered out to the far end of the back garden. There was her tree, wide enough to hold her, and high enough to feel like part of the sky. She’d climb, and settle when she got high enough. Legs dangling, she’d wrap her arms around herself and feel the sky complete her.
One night, Lana’s stars changed. She gripped the rough bark of the tree and pulled herself up, but her arms ached. She clambered onto her branch, but the new leaves patched her view. It seemed that the stars didn’t want her anymore, and she wasn’t surprised
Her body was tired. She never slept anymore; everything was put aside for the sake of her sky. Lana dropped from the branch, and made her way back across the dewy grass. She had no reason to, but she felt betrayed. She squeezed her hands into fists and bit her lip to stop herself from crying. She was being stupid, she knew that, but the stars felt like her family and she had made a fool out of herself in front of them.
She never went back to watch the sky. It wasn’t hers anymore. Her bedroom window stayed shut all through the night, and she kept her face buried in her purple duvet so she couldn’t see them at all.
Sleeping more meant that she was waking up earlier. She was doing whatever it took to avoid the dark, but Lana missed her own adventures. She missed the comfort of being alone with the world.
She woke one morning earlier than usual. The sky was bright, and she could see a sliver of the sun peering through her window. She didn’t try to hide from it like she did the stars. She expected to feel something negative. Shame, probably, but she didn’t. She felt content.
Pushing her arms through her dressing gown, she made her way over to the window ledge for the first time in what seemed like forever. She unlocked the window and heaved it open, smiling wide at how familiar it felt, but how different she knew it was.
Lana swung one leg out of the window, and holding her breath, did the same with the other. The light washed over her, bringing out the blonde of her otherwise dark hair. “This is it,” she thought, “no more hiding.” She counted to three, and jumped.
When she had grown, Lana figured out how to be closer to the stars. She unclasped her window and pulled the pane up. The cold would bite at her and she’d tug her scarf closer, slip her legs through into the outside world, and jump.
She wouldn’t go out for long. Just wandered out to the far end of the back garden. There was her tree, wide enough to hold her, and high enough to feel like part of the sky. She’d climb, and settle when she got high enough. Legs dangling, she’d wrap her arms around herself and feel the sky complete her.
One night, Lana’s stars changed. She gripped the rough bark of the tree and pulled herself up, but her arms ached. She clambered onto her branch, but the new leaves patched her view. It seemed that the stars didn’t want her anymore, and she wasn’t surprised
Her body was tired. She never slept anymore; everything was put aside for the sake of her sky. Lana dropped from the branch, and made her way back across the dewy grass. She had no reason to, but she felt betrayed. She squeezed her hands into fists and bit her lip to stop herself from crying. She was being stupid, she knew that, but the stars felt like her family and she had made a fool out of herself in front of them.
She never went back to watch the sky. It wasn’t hers anymore. Her bedroom window stayed shut all through the night, and she kept her face buried in her purple duvet so she couldn’t see them at all.
Sleeping more meant that she was waking up earlier. She was doing whatever it took to avoid the dark, but Lana missed her own adventures. She missed the comfort of being alone with the world.
She woke one morning earlier than usual. The sky was bright, and she could see a sliver of the sun peering through her window. She didn’t try to hide from it like she did the stars. She expected to feel something negative. Shame, probably, but she didn’t. She felt content.
Pushing her arms through her dressing gown, she made her way over to the window ledge for the first time in what seemed like forever. She unlocked the window and heaved it open, smiling wide at how familiar it felt, but how different she knew it was.
Lana swung one leg out of the window, and holding her breath, did the same with the other. The light washed over her, bringing out the blonde of her otherwise dark hair. “This is it,” she thought, “no more hiding.” She counted to three, and jumped.