Starlight Confessions: A Short Story

Hello lovelies!

I conducted a little poll a while back, and it turns out that you all wanted to read some more of my writing. I wrote this piece during my American Lit class last semester, and we were given the prompt of taking an object that we own that is more than it just appears.

I chose this picture in my sketchbook, which has a rather dingy looking flower taped to it.

This page holds so many memories, so I figured, "Why not write about it?" And that's what I did. If you'd like to read the whole story, just click the "Read More" link in this post, and the whole story will be ready and waiting for you to see!

Feel free to give feedback or any thoughts you have in the comments. (:


Starlight Confessions

If you take a look in my bedroom, you’ll see plenty of things. Stacks of books, worn and bent from many reads, bobby pins hidden amongst the drawers, and maybe a vase of fake flowers gracing the top of my dresser. But one thing you might not see upon first look is the journal I keep. The journal with a sketch of the Eiffel Tower on the cover and countless drawings tucked inside. If you flip through the pages, stained by ink and muddied by pencil, you’ll get to know me in a way that you wouldn’t from just seeing me.
Each page has a memory attached to it. Something on each page has affected me in some way, changing my life in a way that has made who I am. Turn to page three, and you’ll see a sketch of a bird, dancing its way across a dotted shoreline. Page eleven holds song lyrics I hold close. But page one is where I’d like to take a look. On this page is a simple sketch. A guy and a girl, watching the stars. Nothing too interesting. However, there is also a dried daisy, taped to the page. It’s starting to crumble from being in such a fragile state for so long, but it hasn’t left my journal page since the day I put it in.
What signifies a daisy? Why would anyone want to keep something that’s shriveled up, dried up, and just simply falling apart? Like most things in the pages of my life, there’s more to it than meets the eye. This daisy comes from a day that makes its dying, washed-out form worth more than anything.
It started with an email. My Advanced English class was going to host a party to kick off summer and say goodbye to a great school year with amazing people. I’m not the most outgoing person in the world, so I hesitated for a minute. I loved these people, but did I really know how they were outside of class? Were they the type of people to act nice one moment, and turn out completely different the next? I shook off my questions and hastily typed a simple response.
“I’ll be there.”
I hit send.

The week blazed by in a flurry of projects and assignments, but with a sigh of relief, I reached the weekend. The party was today, and I was buzzing with a nervous excitement, wondering what the day would hold. It was going to start as a simple pool party, move on to the movie theater, and end with a bonfire. I didn’t know then just how much the party would change.
After getting dropped off at the pool, I froze. I saw two guys from my class there, and no one else. One of them made my heart sink to my toes. My blood ran cold, but I tried to make the best of it. I was friends with one of them, so at least that was something.
I greeted them with my customary “Hello”, and we camped out under a poolside umbrella, waiting for the others to arrive. People began trickling in. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster until our little poolside umbrella just wasn’t big enough for everyone.
“Are you people ready to party?!”
“Yes! So ready!”
“Hey, has anyone seen my---”
“Guys, where’s the food? I thought someone was bringing food!”
“Bro, settle down, I’m ninety-percent sure I brought a snack bowl. I just don’t know where I put it.”
As the dust settled and the chaos of noise started to lessen, that’s when things started to really kick off. We spent hours by the pool, simply hanging out until our fingers and toes turned pruny and wrinkled, and our skin was blazed by sunlight. A smile was permanently glued to my face, and I was starting to feel really good about coming.
The rest of the day flew by with a Fault In Our Stars movie trip and the smell of overly buttered popcorn. And then it came to a screeching halt in the evening. We were all emotionally unstable from the movie, a mess with chlorine-smelling hair, and by now all we wanted was a place to lay down and eat some food.
The fire was crackling in a way that brings you back to other, different mosquito-bitten nights with different people, but the overall presence of the fire was the same. A feeling of completely comfort and warmth feathered over our huddle. We’d gone frollicking in the woods behind the house we were staying at, and I’d picked up a daisy along the way. It had the loveliest silky, white petals, and the center was a beautiful shade of yellow, the same color as a tangy lemon. I’d tucked it into my hair, and I readjusted it now, wrapping a blanket around my legs, trying to avoid the damp, evening grass.
One girl spoke up after we’d all gotten situated with enough unhealthy campfire food to feed an army. “Let’s go around and say our dreams for the future. I think it’d be so cool to see what everyone else wants to do with their lives.”
One boy with dirty blonde hair began to fidget, either with nerves or excitement, but he didn’t speak up first. The first person to speak was one of the more outgoing girls.
“I really want to be one of those people who helps out special needs kids and gets to just hang out with some amazing people every day,” she said, running a hand through her long, chestnut hair.
I began to fidget as well. No amount of comforting campfire smell or warm, flannel blanket seemed to be able to keep my nervousness at bay. I felt that icy, cold hand of fear start to creep its way down my spine. I was terrified to say what I wanted to do in the future. From what I’d figured out, it didn’t include saving wildlife or helping children in need. My dream suddenly felt so selfish and not up to speed that I just wanted to crawl in a hole and wait the whole thing out.
Answers began to float into the night air, longing and wishful tones clinging to every word.
“I just want to be something like a therapist. I love just listening to people and helping them figure out what’s wrong.”
“Ooh, I just want to go to college and have adventures there. I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life, but I have to just believe it’s gonna be something good.”
“Would it be weird if I said I wanted to be an oceanographer someday?”
“No way, man! Pretty sure zookeeper is gonna be my future career.”
The line of people began to diminish, and I found myself clenching and unclenching my clasped hands. I was silently wishing that I’d never said “I’ll be there” in response to the email. Sure, I’d been having an amazing day. But even the most amazing day can be torn down in a second.
“You’re up.”
I took a deep gulp of air. “I . . . I’d like to travel the world. I want to experience all of the amazing sights and sounds of Europe, Australia, and just everywhere. It all sounds so cool.”
There. I’d said it. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Just some words strung together to make a sentence. But it was the first step into something greater. I was greeted with smiles and nods, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. It was okay. There was no judgement hiding behind the eyes of my friends, and I couldn’t see anyone pretending to be there for me just because it was convenient for them. It was all so real and direct.
We went around our little circle a few more times, answering prompts from favorite animal to a secret that we’ve never told anyone. As the night began to deepen into something more relaxed and breathtakingly honest, I saw a single star start to twinkle. Someone suggested we go stargazing, and most of us packed up our blankets and shuffled over to another clear patch of grass. We spread out the blankets, but instead of sitting in a formal-feeling circle, we just began to lay down where we were standing. A friend of mine had staked out a section of a plaid blanket, and I joined him, resting my head on his leg.
More and more stars began to dot the sky, until it was this beautiful chaos, that was both intensely scattered, yet amazingly organized. Something, although I’m not exactly sure what, began to thrum in my chest. This feeling of complete happiness and acceptance with just being myself washed over me. I felt complete. I was so scared earlier to just let myself go and take a chance that I’d been holding back, letting this washed-out, empty version of me take the forefront. And now that I’d taken a risk and let every barrier fall away? I don’t think I’ll ever go back.
I remember that night, as I was laying on a polka-dotted blanket, staring into the eyes of my friend. His eyes were so clear, so blue, and filled with the openness that only true friendship can show. I looked around, and in every single person’s face, I saw that same honesty. It didn’t matter how completely different we were from each other, because at the same time, we were almost in sync. It was this beautiful thing that I don’t think anyone could replace or try to recreate.

That daisy I had in my hair came home with me in the end. If you scan the pages of my journal now, you’ll find that same daisy. Its petals aren’t quite so white or silky, and the center isn’t quite so bright and yellow. It’s faded, dry, and crumbling more every day. Even so, I haven’t gotten rid of it, and now you know why. This daisy symbolizes an amazing night where I finally let go of my fear and tore down the walls I had built around myself. Maybe true friends are hard to come by, but on that night, I found them, and so much more.

The end.


  1.'m not sure if this story is supposed to be true but I know that privacy is very important to you and I noticed you wrote someone calling you by a name that I don't know if it's yours or not...but I thought you should know...

    1. Eeep! Thank you so much for pointing this out. You are a LIFE SAVER. *virtual hug*

    2. Aw, no problem *hugs back*. It was a really beautiful story by the way.

    3. Thank you! (: It was really fun to write and look back on.

  2. I loved the story Seana. That was a really fun day, and you captured all those emotions and times into that short story. I remember that day the same way... did I show you my version of the picture? Great story and drawing, Sea.

    Keep Writing,
    The Boy With Blue Eyes

    1. It was definitely one of the best days of my life. (: I feel like you might have shown me it, but you could always send me a picture of it too. Glad you enjoyed my story!

  3. Oh. My Giddy. Aunt. I want to cry. This is beautiful. I absolutely love the last paragraph. It's beautiful. Did I say that already?

    ~D. Skye <3


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