Starry Skies

Well, this confirms my suspicions.  Leaving Dad at home by himself was a bad idea. Because of him, my room is horrible and scary. He caught the night in my bedroom.

This might sound silly, or unspeakably stupid, but it’s true. The rest of my house is normal, boring even. When you enter my room it’s a shock. It’s grey-black and the shadows on the wall are in all kinds of twisted shapes.

The ceiling is a dark dark navy blue, with patches of a white-gold. These are the stars. When you open the window sunshine doesn’t stream through like it should. All you can hear is a muffled screech of faraway owls. And even that is barely noticeable. It is like looking into a vortex of nothing. I hate it.

I told Lottie and Selma at school but they laughed. It was obvious they didn’t believe me, so I went for the last choice. My little brother.

Before I did anything else I showed him. He sighed; ‘Don’t tell me… it was Dad?’ and he was right! We thought for hours, and he started fiddling with a stray torch, flicking it on and off, on and off. We looked at each other, then at the torch, and smiled.

Our first idea was to get a super bright torch, so we snuck into Dad’s room and grabbed an ‘ultra bright pocket sun’ from his bedside table. 

We tested it, nearly blinding ourselves in the process. We started running towards my bedroom door. We knew exactly what to do next.

First I casually strolled into my room, whistling all the while. My brother strode in after me, also whistling. I glared at him fiercely and he stopped, and turned on the pocket torch.

After that all hell broke loose. The torch burned and the darkness started to falter.  Bird-like screams of pain echoed about the room as the torch drove away every last sliver of shadow. We watched, wide-eyed as a starry patch of sky fled the room. The night was gone – and it never, ever came back.


And that was a bit of a problem, because it meant that at night – real night – it was too bright to sleep!

By KittyBookLover