Melancholy

• Bethani Broad, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2022

It is the stars flashing elegantly in the sky far above me, having their own small celebration whilst the rest of the world is sound asleep.

It is the soft, silent sound coming from the calm rippling water making its way into my ears.

Into my head.

Through my body.

Enlightening the very ends of my fingertips.

It is the sensation of being alone in the world, more so than I am when around people in the daylight.

It’s been 8 years of remembering my grandma - the only person who pulled me into the sun’s brightness. Made me feel visible. Tapped my back until I stopped hunching and stood tall like the proud person I was. Or could have been.

It’s been 8 years of not knowing how happiness feels, and having the moon cast its shadow on my back. The moon is my companion, my only companion.

“Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul and sings in tune without the words- and never stops - at all -” my grandma used to recite to me each night before I fell asleep. Now, it reminds me that all happiness expired 8 years ago. Now, I lay in the cold of my own presence each and every night.

Usually, I don’t sleep.

Usually, I’m out here.

In the ocean.

With myself.

And the moon.

And the stars.

And the rippling water.

I don’t speak as much as I should. My mouth stays sewn shut during family conversations, gatherings with friends, and class discussions. The words knock furiously from behind my lips, but they can’t squeeze their way out.

But my mind is where my words flourish.

In the form of thoughts that march mud through the crevices of my brain each night:

I am the background character. I am no one.

I am someone to no one.

I am no one to myself.

I am nowhere and everywhere all at once.

I am lost in space, but stuck immovably and rigidly to the ground.







It is the knowledge that I’m not worthy.

Worthy enough for nothing but the moon.

But worthy enough to watch the stars perform their elegant dance above my head.

Worthy enough to experience the soft, silent sounds that calmingly flow from the steady moving ripples in the water.

“I’ll see you soon” I mutter to no one but myself, yet everyone all at once.

But no one is here to listen to my words.

But I can’t focus on that anymore. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t.

I’m trying to keep my eyes closed.

I’m focussing on keeping my eyes closed, why is this so hard?

I can feel the ripples become agitated around me, and develop slowly into larger flowing movements of water.

Calm.

Calm.

Calm.

A large, darkly hued cloud crawls across the stars. My stars. No, no, don’t cover them up.

Calm.

CALM.

I can’t keep my eyes closed.

But this is good. This is good, because there is something so much better to focus on. To look at. To devote my whole being to.

The sound of a bird singing rings out over top of me.

The world is bright, when I open my eyes.