Star Struck: ends of a preface (book 1)

Chapter 33

 
Chapter 33

Wishes

~~*~~

The room was quiet and the walls were listening through the silence of the corridors outside my room. It was late at night and nearly 11 pm. I was all alone in my bed, already tucked in my favorite green blanket and dressed in my comfy pink pajamas. It was time to sleep. But I could not.

I was a six-year-old again, restless and wide awake, trying to sleep for the first time with the nightlight off and with my Mom not sleeping beside me. I was alone and it was all new. The room that I always played in, stayed in and slept in seemed so foreign and distant that the ceiling loomed over as a monster who would scare me out with a scream. I could see non-existing pairs of eyes traveling all over its painted wooden shell. I was sure it was just a disguise and that the house was out to haunt me.

So I got up. I took my fluffy bunny slippers under the bed, careful not to take a peek from the darkness that it was in. I've always been talking about wanting to battle monsters, and the one under my bed was the perfect opponent. However, I knew I was defenseless and unprepared at the moment. I couldn't battle a ferocious beast on my own, not when I'm not near my braveness and strength goal yet. The stakes were too high on this one.

With my eyes closed halfway, I put on my slippers. I opened the door of my room as quietly as possible and braved my way in the halls.

My Dad's Mansion was big. It was my palace—ours from the world. But like most palaces, at night, when all lights are out off and no candles are lit, every corner and crevice or hole could scare a kid away. I was a kid. I was scared. Who wouldn't be if you were on your own in these halls?

Little steps took me from the second floor to the main entrance without much of a jiffy. I walked the stairs, grabbing the rails as tight as I could. I didn't want to fall or trip or get hurt. I just wanted to search for my Dad or my Mom. Their room was empty, I could tell. Dad wouldn't stay there without his light on and Mom wouldn't be able to sleep without her music. It was piano music played on an old record player. I knew it was old because she never let me touch it, said there was nothing that could replace it.

My parents liked antique and old things, from ancient grandfather clocks to a black and white tv. I guess it helped that Mom was a bit of a hoarder and Dad was a mechanic who was fascinated with machine parts and fixing them. It was like this common ground the both of them who were like two opposite sides of a coin. I tried my best to mirror their enthusiasm and so far I have succeeded in making myself feel interested in the random trinkets I had amassed in my secret drawer. (No one could go wrong with a treasure chest of small riches like pebbles and rusting little gears.)

I inched my way towards an overhanging curtain that swayed to the dance of the midnight breeze. The window was open, which was weird because it's usually closed. It's that time of the night after all. It's late. No one was up.

But by this time, as a kid, peculiar things aren't often that peculiar. They are mostly just things that are there. Not until it's something that'll change their lives forever.

It wasn't just that window that was open. It was the doors of the mansion, the big doors that towered over me, too. They were double doors made with thick mahogany wood. They smelled great and quite addictive, especially in the summer and the fall when the small of wood and grass would spread all over the welcoming hall from the luscious front yard.

As I glanced over the trees from the distance of the wide-open doors of the mansion, my eyes traced over every constellation I could see. The sky was explicitly bright tonight, and I was glad that it made me feel less alone than I was. The lights they give, no matter how small, made me feel like someone was watching me and so I was never truly alone.