Stargazer - C.C. Bran

I look at the moon, only a small sliver in the distance. Wondering what the first person there really felt. It must have been amazingly magical. It also had to have seemed a lot different than he thought it would be. Was it warm, or cold, when he stepped out of that ship? Could he tell through his suit that day? Did it even feel like day to him out there among the stars?

Thoughts like that always come to me when I look up at the sky. Wondering if one day I'll be closer to those stars. Right now, my feet are firmly on the ground. Where they will always stay. I can only hope to reach that far when my time comes.

The night is warm, but not hot. Spring barely touching the air around me. The nights still get cold and the days make you strip of your sweaters. Life is returning more each day. The grass is growing greener, the trees starting to bud, the animals beginning to chatter in the light of day. As the day is ending, the sounds of day are handing over their place to the creatures of the night.

The stars twinkle into existence, becoming more pronounced as the sky darkens. They fight to be seen through the darkening pink. The darkness makes the bats chirp as they dodge and dive above me. The few bugs that buzz about scattering as the danger sweeps past, again and again.

As dark violet begins to edge over the horizon it starts in earnest to push away the sun. The temperature begins its descent with the lowering light. A chill settles in the air as I walk along the path. The chill was always the part I loved about night. It woke me up where others decided to sleep. Being awake at night meant you saw things no one else would. Different animals, different sounds, a different world all its own.

How could cold seem like an embrace? No one else could tell me either, but it felt like home to me. More so tonight than usual. I could see the lights of home, just at the bottom of the hill. Still a good mile away, but within sight. Close enough I could get there when I was ready, far enough away I didn't feel the heat from the hearth or hear the words of the group. It was peaceful here by the tree overlooking the valley.

Peace is what only night sees.
Daytime sees the home, the road, the animals, the motion.
Night sees the quiet, the stars, the family comfort.
No one travels at night.
The tree, lonesome in its vigil, stands strong against the breeze. I take a deep breath, one that burns from the chill, the sensation tightening my chest. Even as I enjoy the sensation, I know it won't be long until the nights no longer cool off. The tree will bud and flower, and summer will take over. But tonight? The chill sets in like it should.

I lean back against the trunk, feeling the bark prick into my skin, the slight pain making me jump. Above, the light filters through the branches in shades of pink and orange, casting a gentle glow over everything. I look up into the branches as the chittering floats down upon my ears—squirrels playing in the last rays of sunlight. As I watch them, the purple of night slowly climbs across the sky, stretching out from the horizon and blending with the fading colors. The squirrels scurry around and knock the just formed buds down to the ground.

I smile as a leaf lands on my nose, tickling my senses and making my eyes close. The cold of the earth sinking into my legs and feet even as the warmth of the day still rises from my face. The energy to rise is gone, taken away by the incoming night and my wish to see the stars. It is time to just enjoy the sounds. When I open my eyes to take in the lowering light, the blanket of violet has drawn up close, like tucking in a child for bed.

The warmth spreads down my side. Slowly, due to the chill. The wetness crawling across my shirt, my palm, unable to stop the spread of it. I dare not pull my hand away, even as my breath grows heavy. My vision begins to blur and I can't see the house as well as I would like. The glow, almost fading away.

I almost feel, rather than see the blanket of darkness as it crawls across the valley, robbing me of the home I traveled to see. My hilltop holding out for the last rays of light and the final bit of warmth. Taken over slower than usual, but yet still too quickly for my liking.

I can feel the warmth leaving me, not completely unpleasant, as it seems more like I am becoming the night rather than sitting in it. It seems fitting, the tree I always read under is where I find myself tonight. Coughing, I taste the metallic tang as blood slides across my tongue.

Looks like I won't travel to the stars. I can hope I lived well enough to land among them.