Beneath the Starry Sky

Whoopie... today I finished Chapter 5. I'm really pushing myself to write. I need to finish this story. If you're curious go to http://beneaththestarrysky.blogspot.com/

Prologue

An elderly, frail-looking woman lay quietly upon her hospital bed. Standing along side the eighty-five year old Sophia Roselli, her doctor noted the faint rise and fall of her sheet-covered chest, the ashen color of her papery skin, and the sunken darkly shadowed eyes. He knew her time was near as he reached down to gently caress the limp hand that lay motionless on the bed.

Though her eyes remained closed she appeared in an agitated state as she tossed her head from side to side. “Has it been discovered?” she asked with a weak voice that held unexpected urgency.

Raising one dark bushy eyebrow the doctor turned his eyes questioningly towards the exhausted nurse at his side. But she simply shrugged her shoulders, gave a quick glance at her watch, followed by an annoying tapping of her fingertips upon the metal clipboard.

“It waits beneath the starry sky,” continued the voice from the bed. Followed by a bout of coughing that subdued any further words.

“Sophia, it's Doctor Larson,” he said as he filled a glass on her night stand with fresh water from a plastic pitcher. “Take a little sip of water for me,” he instructed as he bent over, placed the glass to her lips with one hand, and gently lifted her head slightly with the other.

At his touch she abruptly opened her eyes, revealing eyes the color of violets. And with surprising strength she grasped his hand. Battling to regain her voice, her fingers tightened their grip, and her eyes anxiously focused on his face.

“It waits beneath the starry sky! Has it been discovered?” she asked once again.

“I'm afraid I don't understand what you are trying to say. What waits beneath the starry sky?” the doctor asked, leaning closer.

“The beginning,” she replied and a ghost of a smile touched her lips. “It's so very simple.”

The doctor watched as her eyes moistened then a solitary tear formed and rolled slowly down her cheek.

Speaking had sapped her strength and her voice faded to a mere whisper, “Our lives are meaningless if not remembered. Time does that, you see. People forget.”

Though puzzled by her words, he replied, “I'm sure it will be found.” Then for an instant the doctor thought he sensed relief in Sophia's face. But as quickly as it had come, it was replaced with overjoyed amazement. Her gaze was drawn from him towards the foot of her bed. “Alice,” she tried to utter. But a gurgling sound emanated from her chest, her eyes closed, and the doctor felt her fingers go slack in his hand. Then he listened as her last breath was softly exhaled.

For Sophia, her spirit would find no immediate peace. Whatever waited beneath the starry sky must be found or all could be lost. She had made a promise years before that the secret would not be carried with her to the grave.

In that very instant, ten miles away, in an attic of an old Victorian house, the faintest scent of lilac sprung to life in the form of an ethereal mist. It began swirling through the dormant stuffy air and seemed to take on a purpose as it slowly drifted down the stairs. Through each room it traveled, as though looking for something or someone. Until, at last, it reached a woodworking shop that was housed in the basement. Here it deliberately lingered and moved slowly among the tools.

As if reacting to its presence, a tiny mound of wood sweepings transformed into a swirling funnel of dust. The two apparitions gracefully circled and danced around each other before entwining into one entity. In that moment they experienced sheer bliss and then promptly vanished.