1 Memory of a Star-Crossed Lover

Can star-crossed lovers reunite beyond the stars?

"Don't forget me in your next life," He spoke his last breaths. He tucked her hair away from her crying face, trying to engrave each black strand into memory.

A drop of crimson red blood spilled down his mouth, and then another. If only he could keep his hand there for a second longer… He strung a weak smile to his beauty, but his eyes came to a close.

His standing hand swept across the smoke and struck death on the asphalt road. Blaring police sirens overwhelmed the woman's voiceless cries—they were too late. With a raspy breath, she bent down and gave a hopeless kiss on his hand.

"I won't," She swore, and a knife plunged into her chest.

* * *

Rain frantically poured on the village orphanage's slate roof as toneless clouds thundered into the bleak night. Its windows were tightened shut, and the aroma of sullied petrichor filled the air.

Looking closer, a wooden sign was erected in front of the building, reading "Chapar Orphanage."

Bang! Bang!

"Miss Smith! Miss Smith!" A young woman cried out. "You can't do this to me! Please open the door!"

As if to answer her, the front door flung open, crashing into the unsuspecting woman. The older lady inside of the house looked down at the woman who was frantically crying.

"Leave, Mira," Miss Smith said.

Mira shivered into jitters, and she reached out her frail hands to clutch on Miss Smith's dress.

"You are my mother!" Mira pleaded. "I, I just lost Leo and I can't afford to lose my whole family on top of this!"

She crawled at her feet, obliging her dignity away for the slight chance of redemption, and Miss Smith promptly smacked Mira across her face. A burning pink crisply arose on her fair cheek, and Mira trembled as she reached out to cup her face.

"Wake up, Mira. You are not young anymore," Miss Smith impatiently spoke. "I am absolutely not your mother. We already have enough mouths to feed in this godforsaken famine."

A flash of reverberant lightning struck and revealed Miss Smith's cold-blooded face. Tightening her grip on her dress, Mira raced to find a solution.

Mira argued, "Miss Smith, even if I am not your daughter, I am able to work the fields and farm for food for the children! If my work output is the problem here, I am more than willing to stay up all night as the oldest child here—"

"That is exactly why you must leave," Miss Smith interrupted, "You are, first and foremost, a mere orphan that has outstayed her visit at our orphanage. With your lovely face, dozens of suitors are at your beck and call if you ask for it, but once the old passage of time comes," Miss Smith bent over to touch her swollen cheek, but Mira winced away, "... they will no longer be willing to help you. This is for your own good."

With her face away from Miss Smith's view, she fiercely clenched her fists into hard rocks as a reddening high embraced her ears.

"I was never your mother," Miss Smith said, "Your suitors are limitless, but you have not taken advantage of this fact. So, I have been gracious enough to have arranged for Mr. Anchester to take you in while you were whining at the door. He is the richest man in the village, albeit quite old, but he is not a peasant like your ex-lover Leo. If you know what's good for you, you will wait outside until he picks you up."

The door slammed closed, and Mira stared at it in horror. Unbeknownst to her, a tiny, faint star fell from the clouds and concealed itself on the back of her neck. It seemed to swell or was breathing life.

Pressing her hand onto the sated porch, Mira groaned in pain as she got on her feet.

There was no way she was going to be a sheep bride to a sickening, old man.

She started to run on soggy grass and mud, her doll shoes plumping into the earth with each step. The moon shined her way through the village to inside the village merchant's property to the front of his stables.

"Damn it!" Mira cursed. There was a lock on its door.

Mira aggressively shook the lock and then kicked at the door. Red bitterness enveloped her cheeks, and tears threatened to spill out once more. She gritted her teeth and mustered the strength to look around the stables for an opening.

It was no use. Mira searched every nook and cranny, but the wooden building was sturdy with no weak spots. Her body was losing heat faster than ever, and she needed shelter immediately. Was there anyone willing to take her in?

"Mr. Wilson? Penny? Mrs. Jackson?" Mira went through her mental list of contacts, "No, none of them would allow it unless I got Miss Smith's explicit permission."

Not to mention the fact they would be afraid to get cursed by Mr. Anchester. Anyone who crossed his best interests would get plagued by a deadly illness, including his three previous wives. Would Mira have to risk sleeping outside?

In the mist, a huge, plain textile over a small structure near the fences caught her eye.

"The merchant's carriage," Mira whispered.

Mira ran to the covered wagon with no horse. Sure enough, its compartment had the town's goods to be sold in the city the day after tomorrow. With a grunt, Mira sluggishly jumped onto the wagon, almost losing her step.

She coughed. It was dusty and dim inside the wagon. Filthy air floated near the small shade of moonlight, and rain trickled at the entrance of the carriage.

Mira searched the compartment for useful items, and she found a pair of men's pants, black-laced boots, and two woven blankets. She took off her heavy, brown dress that stuck to her skin like glue and dirty doll shoes.

Her bare legs trembled with the blowing wind, and she quickly wore the oversized pants over her white blouse and the boots. Wrapping a woolen blanket around her chest, Mira curled under another to warm herself before she'd die of hypothermia.

What was she going to do after tonight? Her childhood lover, Leo, was forcibly taken away by an evil baroness. He told her to wait for her. He promised her that he would be back—that he would escape and elope with her. But would Mira be married off to Mr. Anchester or cursed to death by then?

"Oh, God of Syre, please do not forsake me," Mira prayed.

And with her words, the star on her neck shined a deep blue and submerged her into the limbo. Goodnight, it said.