The stars were unusually bright tonight, the new moon allowing its tiny fellows a chance
to shine. Sam panned his telescope slowly across the night sky, allowing it to rest as always on
the constellation Aries. He didn't know why, but it always seemed comforting to him somehow,
and just a bit familiar. The little jewels twinkled merrily, yet innocently, telling him nothing.
A shout from the direction of the house broke his thoughts. Zan Walker, called Sam by
his friends, family, and anyone who knew him well enough to know he hated his real name,
looked up from his telescope and sighed. He knew his mom meant well, but she could be so
overprotective at times. She'd gotten worse ever since his dad had split three years ago, when
Sam was 12. He had always traveled a lot for business, and seemed to be getting more distant
every year. When one day he met an "old friend" for dinner and never came home, neither Sam
nor his mother, Christina, were really surprised. In an effort to preserve the little bit of family
she had left, Christina had held onto Sam's leash with a death grip, and it seemed to shorten each
year, while his friends' got a little longer. Sixteen was looming on Sam's horizon, but he wasn't
quite sure how his mom would react to the notion of driving, as she still wouldn't let him ride his
bicycle at night.
The shout came again, a little more urgent this time, and Sam packed up his telescope,
slinging the pack over his shoulder and making his way through the patch of trees that separated
his house from the field where he did his star-gazing. The darkness under the trees was absolute,
like wearing a blindfold, but Sam had walked the path enough times he could easily make his
way without a flashlight. He was almost to the end of the path when a blinding light banished
the darkness with a suddenness that made Sam flinch as a sharp pain flashed behind his eyes. It
was so bright that he probably would have been able to see better in the dark. As suddenly as it
had come the light disappeared, leaving Sam even blinder than before as spots danced in front of
his eyes. He could hear someone moving very quickly through the little wood, though, and fear's
icy hand gripped his heart as he ran the rest of the way to the house.
Sam pushed open the unlocked door, his mother never left the door unlocked after dark,
and called out to the seemingly empty house. "Mom! Mom, are you in here?" He ran upstairs to
her bedroom. The door was open a crack, and he stood outside it a few moments, scared of what
he might find when he opened it. Stop being a baby, and just open the door for god sakes. Sam
opened the door, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw Christina curled up on her bed,
in her pajamas, fast asleep. The book she had been reading was still in her relaxed hand. She
looked so peaceful and content, an expression she only wore in sleep, especially since his father
left. He crossed the room and kissed her goodnight on her forehead.
Her skin was cold.
The fear broke open the dam for the second time that night as he realized she wasn't
breathing. Sam turned her over and checked for a pulse. Nothing. Nothing! Panic joined the
fear as he scrambled to his mom's bedside phone and dialed 911. "Hello?" He managed when
someone answered. "Hello? I think, I mean, my mom..." He trailed off, afraid that if he voiced
his fear it would be set as reality.
"Sir?" The woman on the line had the characteristic soothing voice of someone who dealt
with emergencies. "Sir, calm down and tell me the problem."
"I think...I think my mom is..is dead. She's all cold and she's not breathing or anything
and...." Sam's voice failed him again.
"Okay, sir, a team has already been sent to your home, just stay calm, and keep talking to
me, okay? Can you do that?"
Sam was breathing so heavily he thought his lungs would burst. He couldn't tear his eyes
off of his mother, still looking so peaceful. Wasn't there anything he could do? "Uh, yeah..." he
said to the woman on the phone, as it set it back into its cradle. CPR, right? He could do CPR,
he'd seen it on movies and stuff, and he did take that class in Boy Scouts a few years ago, before
his mom made him quit. He climbed onto the bed, and opened his mom's nightshirt, ready to try
his hardest. He never started, though. Later he would try not to admit to himself that he was
scared to touch her, but right now the silver hand print shimmering on her chest just shocked and
confused him. He didn't even hear the phone, no doubt 911 calling back so he wouldn't try
anything stupid, but just went to the window, and looked at the stars. They no longer looked that
innocent.
to shine. Sam panned his telescope slowly across the night sky, allowing it to rest as always on
the constellation Aries. He didn't know why, but it always seemed comforting to him somehow,
and just a bit familiar. The little jewels twinkled merrily, yet innocently, telling him nothing.
A shout from the direction of the house broke his thoughts. Zan Walker, called Sam by
his friends, family, and anyone who knew him well enough to know he hated his real name,
looked up from his telescope and sighed. He knew his mom meant well, but she could be so
overprotective at times. She'd gotten worse ever since his dad had split three years ago, when
Sam was 12. He had always traveled a lot for business, and seemed to be getting more distant
every year. When one day he met an "old friend" for dinner and never came home, neither Sam
nor his mother, Christina, were really surprised. In an effort to preserve the little bit of family
she had left, Christina had held onto Sam's leash with a death grip, and it seemed to shorten each
year, while his friends' got a little longer. Sixteen was looming on Sam's horizon, but he wasn't
quite sure how his mom would react to the notion of driving, as she still wouldn't let him ride his
bicycle at night.
The shout came again, a little more urgent this time, and Sam packed up his telescope,
slinging the pack over his shoulder and making his way through the patch of trees that separated
his house from the field where he did his star-gazing. The darkness under the trees was absolute,
like wearing a blindfold, but Sam had walked the path enough times he could easily make his
way without a flashlight. He was almost to the end of the path when a blinding light banished
the darkness with a suddenness that made Sam flinch as a sharp pain flashed behind his eyes. It
was so bright that he probably would have been able to see better in the dark. As suddenly as it
had come the light disappeared, leaving Sam even blinder than before as spots danced in front of
his eyes. He could hear someone moving very quickly through the little wood, though, and fear's
icy hand gripped his heart as he ran the rest of the way to the house.
Sam pushed open the unlocked door, his mother never left the door unlocked after dark,
and called out to the seemingly empty house. "Mom! Mom, are you in here?" He ran upstairs to
her bedroom. The door was open a crack, and he stood outside it a few moments, scared of what
he might find when he opened it. Stop being a baby, and just open the door for god sakes. Sam
opened the door, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw Christina curled up on her bed,
in her pajamas, fast asleep. The book she had been reading was still in her relaxed hand. She
looked so peaceful and content, an expression she only wore in sleep, especially since his father
left. He crossed the room and kissed her goodnight on her forehead.
Her skin was cold.
The fear broke open the dam for the second time that night as he realized she wasn't
breathing. Sam turned her over and checked for a pulse. Nothing. Nothing! Panic joined the
fear as he scrambled to his mom's bedside phone and dialed 911. "Hello?" He managed when
someone answered. "Hello? I think, I mean, my mom..." He trailed off, afraid that if he voiced
his fear it would be set as reality.
"Sir?" The woman on the line had the characteristic soothing voice of someone who dealt
with emergencies. "Sir, calm down and tell me the problem."
"I think...I think my mom is..is dead. She's all cold and she's not breathing or anything
and...." Sam's voice failed him again.
"Okay, sir, a team has already been sent to your home, just stay calm, and keep talking to
me, okay? Can you do that?"
Sam was breathing so heavily he thought his lungs would burst. He couldn't tear his eyes
off of his mother, still looking so peaceful. Wasn't there anything he could do? "Uh, yeah..." he
said to the woman on the phone, as it set it back into its cradle. CPR, right? He could do CPR,
he'd seen it on movies and stuff, and he did take that class in Boy Scouts a few years ago, before
his mom made him quit. He climbed onto the bed, and opened his mom's nightshirt, ready to try
his hardest. He never started, though. Later he would try not to admit to himself that he was
scared to touch her, but right now the silver hand print shimmering on her chest just shocked and
confused him. He didn't even hear the phone, no doubt 911 calling back so he wouldn't try
anything stupid, but just went to the window, and looked at the stars. They no longer looked that
innocent.