Confessions Between a Shadow and a Star

A Shadow writes to her Star.

My Star,

You haven’t told me much about your home, but I know enough to understand that they’d throw you out if they knew about us. So, maybe burn this letter once you’ve read it. Or not. Keep it if you want – I’d never tell you what you can or can’t do unless you were hurting yourself. Okay, that’s a lie. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried talking to you about how much pain you end up in whenever you try to shine brighter – but I’ve never had the courage to tell you to stop. You’ve always said you’ll be the brightest Star to ever live one day, and I can’t bear the thought of being the one to say you shouldn’t pursue a dream. But I…

Sorry for rambling. I’m a wreck, aren’t I? It’s probably why I’m writing this in the second-best place I know (first-best place is with you). Upon a log, with little bugs skittering across and tickling my legs as I inhale crisp, clear air. In the middle of the woods, the sun blazing upon a brilliant blue sky, its golden beams shining proudly through the crooked branches. I wish it wasn’t so risky to bring you into my territory - you’d love the foxes here. But what matters is, sitting here gives me the strength to write honestly, and I have two honest things to say. And I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to tell you this face-to-face. And I’m sorry for apologising again, because like you said, I do that too much. 

The truth is, if I tried saying this out loud, I can’t trust myself not to crumble, and force you to pull me back together so I can get the words out through my tears. And I know I’ll never be a burden to you, my Star, but for once, I want to be strong, like you. 

The first truth is…

I’m afraid of the dark.

I know - ridiculous. A Shadow, scared of the dark? We’re born from the dark. Shadows live it, eat it, drink it, revere it. My body is made of it. But for whatever reason, I hate it. I wish I could tell you why, but I can’t explain it no matter how hard I try. My parents call it nyctophobia and they think it means I’m “sick in the head.” Now, please don’t work yourself into a fury because of my parents. I know how angry you get at the very thought of someone hurting me. And please, read this at a steady pace, because I know this will upset you, but you deserve the full story about me. 

I shiver when the sun’s aura starts to dim and the blackness of night slithers across the sky. I hug my knees when I lie in bed, my mind swarming with delusions of nightmarish beasts springing from the corner of my eye to devour me. Most nights, when I’m not with you, hurt. Nights where my heart pounds, hard enough to leave my chest with a throbbing ache, as my eyes dart everywhere, scrambling for the nearest light, any light, to ward away the cold and the horror. Days where I shudder and weep and sob, cornered or surrounded by jeering Shadows who make me shriek by simply sneaking up on me. They’re made of my worst fear, and love taking advantage of that. I thought it would stop after I grew up, but it’s like I’m still a frail child, getting locked in dark rooms so Shadows can hear me weep and beg to be let out. I’m wondering whether reading about these awful people surprises you. You never seemed convinced when I said nobody bothers me. I’m sorry - I didn’t want you worrying. Because you’re so protective of me and I cherish that so much, but you can’t reach the land of Shadows, so knowing you couldn’t stop what happens to me there…I hope you understand.

It’s not all gloom. I’ve gathered little lights over the years. Blue lights, green lights, gold lights – gold is my favourite. Nowadays, I can make my entire room glow when darkness falls. Light gives me wondrous warmth, yours most of all, and I cannot fathom why Shadows scorn the sensation. When it gets dark, it’s cold. I’d give all I own to be wrapped in your invigorating arms every night, your hot breath tickling the back of my neck, engulfing me like your own pillow whenever I lie down to sleep. Freezing, nipping, scathing cold. It drives my teeth to chatter and clatter, it bites at my nose and hands, makes me hug myself hard enough to hurt. But the lights take that away, letting me feel for a moment that I am in your embrace.

I’m telling you all this because you deserve to know why I’m…the way I am. Why I lean into your touch like a desperate pup whenever you hold me. Why my voice wavers as it starts getting dark. Why I couldn’t take my eyes off you after we fell asleep together, woke up at midnight, and…

Sorry, teardrops have blotted the page a little and I couldn’t find any replacements. Don’t worry, I wasn’t weeping in pain. I was only lost in the memory of that midnight. My lips turned cracked and sore with the chill, I was trembling madly, and it was impossible to see a thing besides you. I wanted so badly to ask you to walk me home and avoid any Shadow seeing you, but I felt like such a child. But before I could say a word, you flashed that fearless smile, took my hand, and declared you’d show me the way. I’m thankful nobody saw us, but beyond thankful for you, my Star. Your touch has always been nothing but sacred, but the warmth from your hand I felt that night, such incredible warmth…it took every ounce of strength not to bury my face in your shoulder and wrap my entire being around you. When we held hands, I felt my body would crumble under the weight of my bliss. Your touch sends lightning pulsing through me with a force that can dry any tear, and banish every fear. 

I…don’t know what the second truth is.

Because it’s so many things at once. It’s when I first laid eyes on you. I don’t care if you’re the only Star I’ve seen – there can’t possibly be one who matches the splendorous golden glow that illuminates your body, flickering between a soft light and a glow so faint, it’s almost as dark as night. No matter how many times you flicker, I can never decide which looks more enthralling. I’d give anything to be as dazzling as you. But you wouldn’t have me say that, would you? No, because your whispering words sing through my head, that day I called myself ugly (now you know it’s because I hated being born of the thing I fear). When you said ‘every precious little inch of me’ was bursting with beauty. You’re one to talk, with those opulent, black orbs you have for eyes. And it shatters me, seeing you try to impress me by forcing yourself to shine brighter. Because you always reel from the effort as if you’ve torn something, and I can see the tears you’re trying to blink back, and I can hear the cracking of that wonderful voice when you insist you’re fine. 

It’s your bright, gorgeous laughter at my horrible jokes. It’s your fiery voice, bursting with zeal, making me feel like an ant, staring star-struck at a mountain. It’s how brilliantly confident you are that you will be the brightest, greatest Star, that you will outshine all the others, although you already do. It’s the way you caress me like I’m the most fragile thing in existence, and I nearly laugh or cry at how such a simple thing can brush away a lifetime of never receiving the same from anyone else. It’s me trying a little harder back home. When an insult or sneer is hurled my way, I shrug it off. Turn it from a stinging stab in my back into an icy droplet rolling off my shoulder. It’s how I’ve started to dim the lights in my room ever-so-slightly at night. These impossible changes were wrought by you, my Star. Because if you can believe so fiercely in yourself, why can’t I?

It’s the way you cradle me in your arms when you take me for a flight, soaring me through pink skies, above glittering seas, through whistling winds, pressed against your wonderfully warm self. And as much as I want to behold the rising sun painting its canvas of glorious gold across the cacophony of flowers of every shape and colour, I always drown myself in your pristine scent, your softness, your body enveloping mine with a kind, crackling fire that I’ve been starving for all my life. 

I’m sorry, I’m getting droplets on the letter again, and I’m saying sorry when I said I wouldn’t and I can’t stop the tears but I can’t stop the words either. My Star, I wanted to be brave, and even if Stars and Shadows are forbidden to be together, haven’t we already broken the rules? So please, when next we meet, may I kiss you?

Meanwhile, the Star writes to her Shadow. 

My Shadow,

Nobody had better have given you trouble since we last met. Yes, it’s only been a few days, but friends keep an eye out for each other, right? So, if anyone’s touched a hair on your head, let me know first thing and I’ll make them squeal, Star or Shadow. 

Sorry if that sounded aggressive. I’ve…always had the feeling that people hurt you. I’ve tried bringing it up in subtle ways, but I must have done a poor job hiding how angry the thought makes me. I’m sorry if that put you off talking. And the longer I’ve known you, the happier and gigglier and cuter you’ve become, so maybe you’re not getting hurt anymore, but I still can’t stand it. When I sleep, I see your wide, pristine, pale eyes, so gorgeous against your just-as-beautiful, ebony form. I hear your sweet, sweet little laugh. I feel your blissfully cool touch sending wonderful shivers through my being. I see your face, so full of tenderness and I wonder how, just how anyone could even think of hurting someone as precious as you.

I’m writing this in the second-best place I know (first-best is with you): by a little stream. Good for keeping us a secret, but also for having space. Just the gentle withering of water through stone, the croaking and groaning of the occasional frog, the moon glistening in the stream, like a reflection of your lunar eyes. Honestly, your eyes are so…

Honesty. Right. That’s why I’m writing this to you. Because, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it…

I’ve been lying to you.

Every time I’ve boasted and raved about who I am, what I’m going to be. Even my smiles are lies – the only times I’ve smiled for real is when I’m looking at you. Now, please take your time reading this – this isn’t a happy story, and I know you hate sad stories more than anything. I don’t want to make you cry, but I can’t hide from you anymore.

The way I flicker isn’t natural for Stars. That was never true. I was born with an awful defect. The light that emits from me is supposed to have a fixed, powerful shine - instead it shimmers, relentlessly flickering back and forth between a faint golden glow, to an appearance almost as dark as night. And while we can fly amongst the surface at any hour, Stars aren’t allowed to fly up and adorn the night sky if they aren’t bright enough. Aren’t allowed to do what Stars were made for. 

I don’t know what caused the defect – not even my parents know. The only answer they could come up with was “Fix yourself.” They barely speak to me now. No Star spares me a passing glance, a smile, anything. It’s been that way since I was small, begging for anyone to fix me so I could receive the slightest affirmation of my existence. So I could bring something besides shame to all Stars. A hole grew inside me, a gaping, gnawing, groaning, gasping hole that got only bigger and more excruciating with every passing second. I didn’t know what I needed to fill it until one day, when I decided I’d try, with all my might, to shine brighter. It was awful, and every fibre of muscle erupted in blistering pain, but I managed to make my hand stop flickering, and it glowed as bright as a true Star’s. It only lasted a moment, but I was convinced this was what I needed to do to fill that hole, a hole that could only be filled if I was bright enough to join the night sky and be told I exist.

So yes, my Shadow, you were right to give away your fears with that look in your eyes. I was tearing myself apart. I was wrong to hide my pain, and even more wrong to think that was how I could fill the hole. Because I met you. And although I was raised to revile Shadows, I felt nothing but tenderness the second I laid eyes on you. How could I not, with your sweet, shy voice, your gentleness in asking me about my flickering, and the way you fidgeted with your hair and fingers like a timid child? I realized it the first time you embraced me. I felt my cheeks burning, so I must’ve done a bad job hiding behind that grin. I wasn’t simply flattered - I was starving for more. At that moment, I understood. The hole within me cries for gentle caresses, tickly nuzzles, wholesome embraces, electrifying kisses.

Why did I lie? Because I wanted somebody who didn’t know what a freak of nature I am. It’s as selfish and simple as that. It scares me, how easily the mask slipped on, how smoothly the factious words rolled off my dry tongue. That’s why I’m writing this to you, because if I tried saying this in person, I’m terrified some learned, overriding instinct would mechanically open and close my mouth and spout loud, cheerful fabrications at you and I’d be stuck in my own body, unable to break free and be honest and exist.

You truly believe what I’ve said about myself, and that’s what has wracked me with the most searing pain. The way your moonlit eyes widen in delighted awe at the sight of me. The way you tell such terrible jokes, but with such a sincere effort to bring a smile to my face, I can’t help but laugh and hold you. The way you cling to me when we fly, the gentle chill of your body soothing the blaze inside my chest – I don’t deserve it, my Shadow.

I couldn’t bear it anymore after that midnight. When I took your hand, because you were so scared to walk home alone, but too shy to ask. I saw the tears in your eyes, glistening like starlight, felt your chilled hand squeezing mine over and over, heard you breathe in and out, so slowly and with such relief. You trusted me with your entire being, because I’d passed myself off as so much stronger than I really am. No more. You deserve to know the real me. 

And the real me…isn’t worthwhile. I readily gave into the pressures of hurting myself, of being something I’m not. I’ve pushed my body beyond its limits, and I’ve barely had the strength to hold back my tears whenever I showed off my brief bursts of brightness to you. It’s been years and I still can’t make my light shine stronger for more than five seconds. My hands blister, my back seethes, my neck sears, my eyes sting, my bones crack, my chest burns. And it took me ages of being with you to accept it, to accept the truth that I had been wasting my time all these years before meeting you, as awful as it was to even consider. That being with my Shadow would fulfil me more than becoming “fit” for the judgemental, heartless people around me.

And yet, I want to be someone who does deserve you. I’m still scared - terrified. Of us being discovered, and never seeing each other again. I’ve always laughed off the idea with you. But I also held you so much tighter, inhaling your earthy scent and pressing as much of your soft, soothing self against me as I could. And despite that fear, you’ve kept seeing me – not one week has gone by since we met without us joining. You’re the brave one, my Shadow. You’re even brave enough to cry, while I’m still trembling and my eyes are still stinging and I’m still trying to hold it in while writing this. And for you, I shall be brave as well. 

I want to deserve you, because you’re the first one to gaze upon me with tenderness. Because you save and nurture helpless creatures when nobody else will. Because of your sweet laugh. Your beautiful eyes. Your adorable, helpless clinginess around me. When I’m without you, the hole grows and cries and aches; when I’m with you, it’s a distant memory. 

If you don’t return these feelings, I understand. But if you do, and once I’ve earned it, may I kiss you?