Fantasy Fiction posted September 10, 2019 |
**Maybe each star has a reason (**see author notes)
Touched by the Stars
by Y. M. Roger
After the accident, there was no measure of time for me. Flashes of memory, of bright lights and mechanical sounds – these were intertwined with long periods of emptiness. Darkness.
That darkness began to have meaning – a young, beautiful face appeared there to greet me, smiling. I couldn’t discern if there was a male or female or both. I only knew that, at last, the darkness no longer felt lonely.
“Not long now.” Voices whispered through me, followed by a soothing warmth. “You’ll be back soon.” And then the singing: their song captivating and spell-binding, my mind completely enthralled in comfort. Words? I don’t recall any, but the feeling of being safe was absolute, undeniable.
As awareness grew, I tried to speak, to ask questions, but the darkness held no speech for me – only warmth and that melodious song.
Slowly, the dark periods gave way to moments of awareness, of sensations outside myself. Presently, I sensed someone beside me. Straining to open my eyes, I saw a blurred vision in white with a familiar face…that beautiful face.
With a smile, a yellow flower was held out to me.
“We’re Cappy.” The words were sung more than spoken. “This is for you when you are ready to take it.”
I tried so hard to lift my hand, but the strain was too great, and the darkness consumed me again.
So many times that happened: Cappy smiling and offering the flower, and me exerting myself back into the darkness. Back into Cappy’s safe-keeping.
One day, I was able to move my hand toward the flower, but Cappy’s vision immediately vanished… and the world around me came alive! Nurses, doctors, and even my mother were there, all talking at once. Mom was crying, and the nurses began poking and prodding me.
“Where’s Cappy?” I managed to croak out – my voice sounding awful. Everyone seemed to ignore me, so I let it go. I was too exhausted to pursue it.
Cappy still came to visit me in the evenings, and I would often catch sight of a blurry, white robe flowing by the ICU room door. I asked my nurses about Cappy, but no one knew of whom I spoke.
On the day I was to be discharged, I woke up to find Cappy beside my bed again, holding out the bright, yellow dahlia to me.
“We’re always here, looking out for you.”
I took the flower.
“But will I see you again?”
The warmth of that smile still affected me.
“Of course you will.” The brightness of the blur increased. “Whenever it gets dark, look up. We’ve always been there.”
I frowned, but, before I could inquire further, Cappy was gone.
On the long highway drive home that night, I held my flower as I gazed at the multitude of stars that flooded the night sky. Looking closely, I realized that some were brighter than others – that they were different colors…
“Stop the car!”
My mom braked, and I jumped out. She ran around the car to steady me.
“What are y–”
“What star is that?” I practically demanded.
Following the direction of my pointing finger to the bright yellow star, mom smiled.
“That’s Capella.”
Nodding, I relaxed and smiled as the familiar warmth ran through me.
“Thank you, Cappy.”
After the accident, there was no measure of time for me. Flashes of memory, of bright lights and mechanical sounds – these were intertwined with long periods of emptiness. Darkness.
That darkness began to have meaning – a young, beautiful face appeared there to greet me, smiling. I couldn’t discern if there was a male or female or both. I only knew that, at last, the darkness no longer felt lonely.
“Not long now.” Voices whispered through me, followed by a soothing warmth. “You’ll be back soon.” And then the singing: their song captivating and spell-binding, my mind completely enthralled in comfort. Words? I don’t recall any, but the feeling of being safe was absolute, undeniable.
As awareness grew, I tried to speak, to ask questions, but the darkness held no speech for me – only warmth and that melodious song.
Slowly, the dark periods gave way to moments of awareness, of sensations outside myself. Presently, I sensed someone beside me. Straining to open my eyes, I saw a blurred vision in white with a familiar face…that beautiful face.
With a smile, a yellow flower was held out to me.
“We’re Cappy.” The words were sung more than spoken. “This is for you when you are ready to take it.”
I tried so hard to lift my hand, but the strain was too great, and the darkness consumed me again.
So many times that happened: Cappy smiling and offering the flower, and me exerting myself back into the darkness. Back into Cappy’s safe-keeping.
One day, I was able to move my hand toward the flower, but Cappy’s vision immediately vanished… and the world around me came alive! Nurses, doctors, and even my mother were there, all talking at once. Mom was crying, and the nurses began poking and prodding me.
“Where’s Cappy?” I managed to croak out – my voice sounding awful. Everyone seemed to ignore me, so I let it go. I was too exhausted to pursue it.
Cappy still came to visit me in the evenings, and I would often catch sight of a blurry, white robe flowing by the ICU room door. I asked my nurses about Cappy, but no one knew of whom I spoke.
On the day I was to be discharged, I woke up to find Cappy beside my bed again, holding out the bright, yellow dahlia to me.
“We’re always here, looking out for you.”
I took the flower.
“But will I see you again?”
The warmth of that smile still affected me.
“Of course you will.” The brightness of the blur increased. “Whenever it gets dark, look up. We’ve always been there.”
I frowned, but, before I could inquire further, Cappy was gone.
On the long highway drive home that night, I held my flower as I gazed at the multitude of stars that flooded the night sky. Looking closely, I realized that some were brighter than others – that they were different colors…
“Stop the car!”
My mom braked, and I jumped out. She ran around the car to steady me.
“What are y–”
“What star is that?” I practically demanded.
Following the direction of my pointing finger to the bright yellow star, mom smiled.
“That’s Capella.”
Nodding, I relaxed and smiled as the familiar warmth ran through me.
“Thank you, Cappy.”
That darkness began to have meaning – a young, beautiful face appeared there to greet me, smiling. I couldn’t discern if there was a male or female or both. I only knew that, at last, the darkness no longer felt lonely.
“Not long now.” Voices whispered through me, followed by a soothing warmth. “You’ll be back soon.” And then the singing: their song captivating and spell-binding, my mind completely enthralled in comfort. Words? I don’t recall any, but the feeling of being safe was absolute, undeniable.
As awareness grew, I tried to speak, to ask questions, but the darkness held no speech for me – only warmth and that melodious song.
Slowly, the dark periods gave way to moments of awareness, of sensations outside myself. Presently, I sensed someone beside me. Straining to open my eyes, I saw a blurred vision in white with a familiar face…that beautiful face.
With a smile, a yellow flower was held out to me.
“We’re Cappy.” The words were sung more than spoken. “This is for you when you are ready to take it.”
I tried so hard to lift my hand, but the strain was too great, and the darkness consumed me again.
So many times that happened: Cappy smiling and offering the flower, and me exerting myself back into the darkness. Back into Cappy’s safe-keeping.
One day, I was able to move my hand toward the flower, but Cappy’s vision immediately vanished… and the world around me came alive! Nurses, doctors, and even my mother were there, all talking at once. Mom was crying, and the nurses began poking and prodding me.
“Where’s Cappy?” I managed to croak out – my voice sounding awful. Everyone seemed to ignore me, so I let it go. I was too exhausted to pursue it.
Cappy still came to visit me in the evenings, and I would often catch sight of a blurry, white robe flowing by the ICU room door. I asked my nurses about Cappy, but no one knew of whom I spoke.
On the day I was to be discharged, I woke up to find Cappy beside my bed again, holding out the bright, yellow dahlia to me.
“We’re always here, looking out for you.”
I took the flower.
“But will I see you again?”
The warmth of that smile still affected me.
“Of course you will.” The brightness of the blur increased. “Whenever it gets dark, look up. We’ve always been there.”
I frowned, but, before I could inquire further, Cappy was gone.
On the long highway drive home that night, I held my flower as I gazed at the multitude of stars that flooded the night sky. Looking closely, I realized that some were brighter than others – that they were different colors…
“Stop the car!”
My mom braked, and I jumped out. She ran around the car to steady me.
“What are y–”
“What star is that?” I practically demanded.
Following the direction of my pointing finger to the bright yellow star, mom smiled.
“That’s Capella.”
Nodding, I relaxed and smiled as the familiar warmth ran through me.
“Thank you, Cappy.”
**Because the stars are much older than earth, it's hard to imagine us putting them there....but what if every one of them were 'real' -- that they each were a 'being' of some kind? What if THAT was their 'legend'...?
Like so many stars that appear single to the eye, Capella actually consists of two stars. Capella A and Capella B, as they're called, are similar to each other, both roughly 10 times the sun's diameter. They emit about 80 and 50 times more overall light than the sun, respectively. Another component to this system, a binary of small red stars, orbits about a light-year away.
Capella A and B are both yellow giant stars at the end of their normal lifetimes. Each being more than 2 1/2 times more massive than the sun, the two components of Capella likely are also younger. The stars of Capella are in a transitional period from the smaller, hotter stars they once were, to the cooler and larger red giants they must ultimately become in their final phase. However, for now, their surface temperatures are similar to that of the sun, and so they share its spectral type of G [meaning they are seen as yellow in color].
The two stars we see as Capella mark the sixth brightest star in our sky.
HOW TO FIND CAPELLA IN THE NIGHT SKY From mid-latitudes of the U.S. and Europe, Capella is far enough to the north to be seen at some time of the night all year round. For us in the Northern Hemisphere, it's best in winter, when you'll find golden Capella high overhead before bedtime.
Capella is the brightest star in a five-sided star pattern. That pattern is the constellation Auriga. The shape is difficult to reconcile with the idea of a man driving a chariot, but it's a noticeable pattern and easy to find. [from 'Capella is 2 golden stars' by Larry Sessions in BRIGHTEST STARS, January 8, 2019]
Image from Google Images via Eye EM [www.eyeem.com].
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Like so many stars that appear single to the eye, Capella actually consists of two stars. Capella A and Capella B, as they're called, are similar to each other, both roughly 10 times the sun's diameter. They emit about 80 and 50 times more overall light than the sun, respectively. Another component to this system, a binary of small red stars, orbits about a light-year away.
Capella A and B are both yellow giant stars at the end of their normal lifetimes. Each being more than 2 1/2 times more massive than the sun, the two components of Capella likely are also younger. The stars of Capella are in a transitional period from the smaller, hotter stars they once were, to the cooler and larger red giants they must ultimately become in their final phase. However, for now, their surface temperatures are similar to that of the sun, and so they share its spectral type of G [meaning they are seen as yellow in color].
The two stars we see as Capella mark the sixth brightest star in our sky.
HOW TO FIND CAPELLA IN THE NIGHT SKY From mid-latitudes of the U.S. and Europe, Capella is far enough to the north to be seen at some time of the night all year round. For us in the Northern Hemisphere, it's best in winter, when you'll find golden Capella high overhead before bedtime.
Capella is the brightest star in a five-sided star pattern. That pattern is the constellation Auriga. The shape is difficult to reconcile with the idea of a man driving a chariot, but it's a noticeable pattern and easy to find. [from 'Capella is 2 golden stars' by Larry Sessions in BRIGHTEST STARS, January 8, 2019]
Image from Google Images via Eye EM [www.eyeem.com].
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