I want you to believe
in things you cannot
It is the sort of night where it seems the world is held together by nothing more than dreams. Like you could fold the sky into stairs and walk right up to the heavens. And keep walking, and walking, until you reach the darkness that lies behind the stars, and offer your hand in greeting.
Hello, you say, my name is North.
It hums in response, and you do not know if it is a name or a warning.
She wakes without being certain she is awake.
When it is clear sleep is lost to her, she walks slowly beneath a night sky heavy with stars. Her hair is wild and silver in the moonlight, a story in an of itself. When the tall grass brushes against her belly it seems like it too is trying to communicate a name, or a warning. She ignores it, and breathes deeply of the cool night air.
Here in the quiet beneath the stars, most of the world in a deep sleep, you would never know that the land was thick with sickness. But you do know and for some reason it does not matter. You died once, and the memory of that weighs on every waking moment.
North wakes once more,
without realizing she had fallen asleep again.
A black cat weaves through her legs proudly, a dead field mouse in his mouth. She sighs and is about to speak to him when the grass rustles somewhere behind her. She turns to look at the stranger, gaze sharp and neither welcoming nor unwelcoming.
N O R T H