Stolen Sky

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
The sky is full of wonder's with those who open thier eye's to view it, what if it was stolen from you?

Submitted: May 20, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 20, 2017



The sky is the crystal dome is what covers the earth, it has billions of planets and undiscovered things. It’s what protects us and keep us safe and sound. The star’s are history, they all are bigger than our own sun. The sun brightens up our day and at night his friends are their to help. The sun’s best friend the moon dance’s in the night letting his dust out to the world.

If thought about, the sky keeps the world going in it’s fashion but without it doom is set upon us human’s. We would lose food, oxygen, water, and many more things that give us life. It’s what keeps us going and gives us a good view. It’s more than a friend it’s a part of us because of how much it has supported us. Would we really be able to live without it? Or would we all plummet to our doom? That is a question that we all will never want to realize. What if the sky could metaphorically be someone you care for. It could be someone that keep you standing and without them you lose a part of yourself.

Me and my father lay across the long grass covered in dew. I can feel the water seeping into my clothes. It tickles as the grass brushes against my clothes in the cold windy night. The grass didn’t matter, what did matter was the view in front of us. It was the star’s that were planted on the black canvas. I could feel as more were painted on because the sky seemed to get brighter and brighter. The moonlight made the sky more clear and you could see the dust that came from it as it went upon the stars. It was really dancing, it was like it practiced to be on dancing with the stars. My teeth chattered from the windy air and arms felt bare with goosebumps dancing in unison with the moon.

When I took a glance at my father you could see the night sky reflecting off his glasses. His blue eyes were full of wonder, it makes him look way younger. He had the face of a young child who was playing in a playhouse. I knew he felt like he was home and so did I. It was awful how we never got to visit this log cabin all year until my father’s work week off. Now that week was almost over, and it would be time to head back to New York City, where the star’s could never twinkle and the moon couldn’t dance because they were unseen from are eye’s.

It’s always been a tradition to go the cabin after my mother died. My mother always had that look of wonder unlike my father who had to work, sleep, and eat. My father didn’t try to make his perpetual life special instead he lived in it’s darkness. My mother lived in the light she was someone who was outgoing and had a good sense of humor. With one step into a room she brightens it. I loved her positivity but I can’t seem to grasp it making me more negative like my father.

Before my mother died my father and her got into an argument. My mother was mad that my father was always working and never seemed to have time for me. It was a bad choice to start an argument because my father start’s to drink after work. He didn’t try to listen to her at first, but when she started yelling loud enough for me to hear he slapped her across the face. My mother being brave like her usaully self slapped him back and told him to stay away from her or she was going to get a divorce and take me with her. My father loved and cared for me as much my mother did so he stepped back. They separated and never ever talked and when they did it was about bills, housework, and me. It left my father heart broken so he drank more and more. The two of them were still married and seemed to still care for one another but with me around that wasn’t the case.

One day my mother tripped down a flight of stairs at work when the elevator wasn’t working. She got a concussion and passed out. When taken to the hospital my father came and asked how did she even end up causing such an awful accident. The doctor told us she fainted and later said they hadn’t found the explanation. The doctor’s told us she had a tumor and heart cancer. Father never told me until she died.

She died when they tried to perform surgery on her to get rid of the tumor. We never knew it was coming and when it did my father went mad. He didn’t eat for four days and he lost the color in his face giving him an older complexion. She was his sky no matter how harmful he was towards her. The last time they actually talked for more than five minutes was when he slapped her and she slapped him back. I even remember seeing red marks on his face during the hard times after her death. He slapped himself. I thought I would be sent to an orphanage but I never was but if I had to take a guess it would be because my last words from my mom to my father where to protect me.

Before my mother and father got into that argument they planned to buy this cabin but didn’t have enough money. When she died we were given a ton of money for a variety of reasons so my father spent it on this very cabin because that’s what mother would’ve of wanted. Now during this week my father actually smile’s and we talk about mom here, but not back in New York City. We look back at those good times while, in New York City we think about the harder times.

My father used to be a stronger man but over the year’s he’s eaten less and had to sit all day working at a computer. He looks like a walking skeleton. He has no friends and no family to talk to except me. I love my father but it breaks me to see that he can’t deal with such stress. It’s probably because he had a perfect childhood, but decided to move to New York City with his highschool sweetheart so she can go to college. Then his life took a perpetual turn but he loved his sweetheart, their first date was at a movie then afterwards they went to woods and found a field where they laid in. Guess what, they watched the star’s like me and my father where doing right now. It’s why his eye’s were full of wonder. When they sat there my mother keep talking about how she always wanted to be an astronomer. She tried to get that job in college but she had me too early to pursue that wish.

My mother died when I was seven, now I’m seventeen. This is the tenth time me and my father have been to this cabin. My father looked like he was in his sixties but was only forty two. Ten years ago he was thirty two and looked nineteen. The depression grasped him and now he lives with no sky to make him feel alive. He doesn’t truly live anymore because his sky is gone and know he doesn’t know what being alive means anymore. My sky was stolen from me. It was two different people which where my mother and father but when mom died I lost them both. My sky was stolen as well and I as I’ve gotten older I began to look a lot like my mother, it makes me sick to look at myself in the mirror. I’m dead like my father and my life feels perpetual but mother would want me to live.

I could hear myself yawn and I stretched my mouth open wide. I got myself up and headed to the cabin without saying a word to my father. We never had a real conversation since my mother passed away. I didn’t need to tell him I was heading to bed because he knew.

I could barely make it to my room because the lights were off and I didn’t want to go looking for a lightswitch. I’m always really clumsy so I ended up knocking a vase down and stubbed my toe. When I finally got to my room I pulled my pajamas on and layed in bed. I never did sleep I just had thoughts come in my head like my father does. I act more like my father but have more of my mother’s appearance. I wish I was goofy and outgoing like my mom but I was more of a logical introvert. My thought’s didn’t run till long until I heard “BLAM.” I jumped out of my bed and headed out. I turned on the light switch but still managed to hit the table and three chairs.

When I made it to the yard I screamed. Blood poured out the side of my father’s head as a pistol layed next to his hand. In the other hand layed grip in his finger’s was the last family photo we had taken. It was smeared with blood. I ran over to him to check his pulse, it was dead cold. The hot tears burnt down my face. He finally gave into his deadly thoughts so he could be with my mother and leave me alone. It was selfish but what could I do now. I just kneeled next to him as I keep repeating, “At least he’s with mom.” Then I noticed a whole box of bullet’s next to him. He knew I would find him and knew he wouldn’t need more. He would let me kill myself to be with him.

That was never going to happen, I grabbed the box of bullets and chucked them into the water off the pond right in front of the cabin. I looked at his body and saw his eye’s had color in them again. He was happy but selfish. With a look at the family photo I saw a message written on the back. I took it and wiped off some of the blood. It said, “Monty, you did this to me, I was in pain I told I had heart pains before I ended up in the hospital. You didn’t help me at all, and now I need you. I know I’m going to die and I want you to be with me afterwards. I need you, and don’t worry about Celeste. She’ll move in with my parent’s and be happier in our home town without us. She’ll forget it all she’ll only be seven. Please my dear if you don’t I’ll follow you where you go in your nightmares. It’s the last thing you can do for me, From Rosalia.”

I crumpled the paper as threw it in the water as well. My father never wanted to pass away he wanted to stay for me. I felt so much emotions, I couldn’t describe it. How could my mother haunt his nightmares? There is no such thing as ghosts. It would make sense why my father went mad. My mother was never my father’s sky, I was the whole time until she pulled him in. My mother is selfish. I grabbed the gun and threw it at a tree. There is still no such thing as ghosts right?

I looked at my father’s dead eyes, they looked up into the stars still as they held such wonder, it made me feel sick.

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