I’ll teach you like my sister Estrel taught me. She said falling stars are astronauts becoming ghosts.
Secure your helmet. Estrel said hypoxia kills instantly, even if you hold your breath.
Sneak outside. Grown-ups won’t understand. My dad’s always get-the-belt angry over “wasted” oxygen.
Stop, cover Earth with your thumb for good luck. Estrel probably forgot, the day her shuttle launched.
Follow moondust clouds until you find the fallen star: a hydrogen-fairy spinning, burning, haloing light.
If your sister died, too, whisper the star a message for her ghost. She might not hear, but that’s okay. Nobody likes dying alone.
Taylor Rae is a SFF writer and professional mountain troll. Her work appears/is forthcoming with PseudoPod, Flash Fiction Online, and Fit for the Gods from Vintage Books. She edits Space Fantasy Magazine. You can find her at www.mostlytaylor.com.
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