Sky Full Of Stars (Kaylor)

Hollow ; Chapter 3

(FYI: the titles of the chapters are actually song titles)

The gravel crunched beneath her tennis shoes, slow footsteps following the sound of a gentle autumnal breeze. Ever since she turned fourteen, the sixth day of October, her skies had begun to turn gloomier, her nights colder, and her eyes emptier. Her mother had passed away a few days after her fourteenth birthday. It had been a sudden death, faster than a lighting. It had struck in the middle of the night; Taylor remembered the smell of rain, of fresh silky sheets, and the desperate sound of her father's cry for help. She recalled the way paramedics had filled her house up, one of them — a fairly young woman — trying to sooth her father's pain but failing. Taylor had been too juvenile, too naïve and innocent to truly understand that her mother was never going to come back. That she was gone — forever. The following days at school had been difficult for the young teenager; everyone had seemed to look at her with pity, finally noticing her presence as she had walked through those corridors like a phantom. She had felt like a ghost, her heart heavy with her mother's absence.

But then, she had grown up. She had turned into an adult, had broken her heart various times because of cheating girls, and had found an apartment where to live. Taylor had never forgotten her mother; she will never do that. Sometimes, the memory of her would resurface and linger, but it never stayed long enough to open the healed scar and make her suffer.

Taylor stopped right in front of her mother's grave. Her smiling face was a bright light compared to the cloudy sky above her head. That was something she had always liked — and dearly missed — about her mother; she never stopped smiling, not once. It was as if she were always on cloud nine.

Taylor let out a long, melancholic sigh, as she knelt to the ground, her knees touching the yellow and dry grass. Autumn was, for her, the period of death and sorrow. Everything just felt less colorful; the leaves on the branches of the trees would fall on the ground and on the streets, signaling the end of a long journey through the seasons. The days would turn shorter, the daylight a little bit colder and feeble. All the women from her past have always broken her heart in October, whether it was by cheating on her or directly dumping her like she meant nothing to them.

Taylor looked at the image of her mother, and as she caressed it with her index finger, she wondered if she were in a delightful and shiny place.

The sixth day of October 2003 happened eighteen years ago, but it almost felt like it happened just the day before.

Taylor lowered her face, the emptiness in her stomach betraying her as a thunder coming from afar reached her ears. The baker took the beautiful white flowers she had bought that morning at the shop near her apartment, and placed the bouquet on top of the grey grave. She forced a small grin on her lips, shaking her head as she stood up on her feet and said a silent prayer.

This day has always felt strange to her; everything seemed to slow down around her, while she moved almost too fast. The sounds around her were hazy and faint, the bones in her body tired and worn out. Taylor sighed quietly, watching as a few passers-by walked by her. They all looked sad in their own ways; the baker wondered who they were here for, if they had lost someone recently or years ago like she had.

She looked at her mother's picture one last time, her eyes lingering on her death date. Taylor wondered if her father still visited her grave. The baker hadn't heard from him in a long time; he had just disappeared after his wife's passing.

Taylor finally stepped away, her hands buried inside her beige trench coat. She dived into the softness of her scarf and relished in the warmth that it brought to her. She walked slowly, listening to the sound that her feet made as they moved along the gravel. The silence gave her a sense of sadness, as her mind couldn't help but wander back to the days she had spent in her mother's company. How she had helped Taylor rise from the ground when she had fallen from her bike for the first time. Or how she had kissed her fingertips the first time she had accidentally burned them during a baking session. Or how her mother used to tuck her underneath the sheets and sing her to sleep when she was only six. As Taylor walked towards the entrance of the New York City cemetery, she kept thinking about those moments that seemed to fade as time progressed.