Annie Use Your Telescope
Hi everyone! I just wanted to share a short story that I am working on! Feel free to use it as a prompt, and I’d love to hear what you come up with!
I sit outside of the small village that is the emblem of poverty. There is nothing but sand for miles around me, the village a small lighted blob in the distance. I am alone out here, except for the stars. They are so far away, and yet they are so close to my heart. I have five possessions. My blanket, my three outfits, and my constellation book. It has every constellation imaginable printed onto the weathered pages of my brown leather-bound book. I know every single constellation in the book by heart, and some that I have invented. Now I use a dull black colored pencil to sketch and write in the book. My words overflow on the pages of the book, telling of my dreams that will never have a chance to come true.
I want to be an astronomer, or even an astronaut. Anything that lets me be with the stars. But all I will be is a housewife or one of the other slave-like women working in the dust all day. I will be too tired at night to stay up and see the stars. I won’t have the freedom or the education to continue my study of the sky. I’ll be stuck here, in a small village in Africa, never to see the stars from any other perspective. So that is why I am here, now, with the stars. My birthday is in two weeks, and after that I will be 14. Eligible for marriage. And since I am fairly strong and pretty, I will be chosen quickly. I probably already am. So I’m sleeping under the stars for the next two weeks. I’m going to enjoy it as much as I can.
I sit outside of the small village that is the emblem of poverty. There is nothing but sand for miles around me, the village a small lighted blob in the distance. I am alone out here, except for the stars. They are so far away, and yet they are so close to my heart. I have five possessions. My blanket, my three outfits, and my constellation book. It has every constellation imaginable printed onto the weathered pages of my brown leather-bound book. I know every single constellation in the book by heart, and some that I have invented. Now I use a dull black colored pencil to sketch and write in the book. My words overflow on the pages of the book, telling of my dreams that will never have a chance to come true.
I want to be an astronomer, or even an astronaut. Anything that lets me be with the stars. But all I will be is a housewife or one of the other slave-like women working in the dust all day. I will be too tired at night to stay up and see the stars. I won’t have the freedom or the education to continue my study of the sky. I’ll be stuck here, in a small village in Africa, never to see the stars from any other perspective. So that is why I am here, now, with the stars. My birthday is in two weeks, and after that I will be 14. Eligible for marriage. And since I am fairly strong and pretty, I will be chosen quickly. I probably already am. So I’m sleeping under the stars for the next two weeks. I’m going to enjoy it as much as I can.
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