by Aetherias Moon
The two of us stand below the stars. The wind kicks up dust and rustles my hair. I see myself, long dark tresses, pale skin, and inquisitive blue eyes in front of me. She smiles sadly. A part of her hand has disappeared. It isn’t a wound, more like someone has taken an eraser to her limb.
“Don’t be afraid,” she says. “This is all part of the cycle of life.”
“Why does it have to be like this?” I say. Though I’m not truly looking for an answer.
“Because I wasn’t ready.” Turning away towards the light breaking on the horizon, she continues. “We needed you, you see.”
“How do I know if I’m ready?”
“You don’t.”
I shiver at the thought.
“You just have to be prepared to turn to dust. It is the way things are.” She says. Flecks from her vanishing arm connect to my shoulder that is being built, granule by granule.
“How do I be strong enough?”
“If I knew I wouldn’t be disappearing, would I?” her voice catches.
A tear drips down my cheek. I barely know her yet understand her intimately. For she is me and I am her.
“How do I stop it?”
“You can’t. Star dust of my soul, together may we reach our goal,” she says. Her body has mostly disappeared. Her head on floating shoulders speaks to me. “Why does a star dove fly?”
“To touch the sky,” I say, and she smiles like she is finally at peace. She disappears with closed eyes. A swirl of sand whispering goodbye as she lands on my fingertips. I stand alone as the sun climbs into the sky and the stars vanish.
Star dust of my soul, together may we reach our goal. I still don’t know what those words mean. They haunt me as I walk through my day. I bear that night under the stars as a whisper I shall never tell. I sit in the darkness, the only light coming from a crystal ball in the center of the table. Cards shimmer faintly with quiet magic. Ana Marie Blesson sits in front of me. She holds a box of tissues and sniffles as I speak to the stars. I ask them if her daughter will live through the black fever. I don’t like what I see.
“There is darkness in the cards, but also hope,” I say. It is not a lie, but not a full truth, either. “You must not be lax on the healer’s instructions.”
“I can’t afford a healer,” she says.
I hold back a frown. Why is she giving me money over a healer, then? But I know the answer. Diviners practice in hope and prayer and come much cheaper than a good healer.
“I see, then I will give you a prayer charm,” I say, and summon my magic. It curls around my fingers as I draw the glyphs of health and protection. It looks like a dove.
“I can’t afford that,” she chokes out a sob.
“My services will be free today,” I say, and feel an internal groan. We need to be able to put food on the table too, you know.
I finish the glyph and hand it to her. It looks like it is on translucent paper and shines with an inner light. “Place it over your child’s heart.”
“Thank you,” the woman says. “But tell me, what do the cards truly say?”
I mull over what I should say, but decide on the truth. “Death hangs over your daughter, but there is a glimmer of light shining over her. Someone who protects her.”
“What does that mean?”
“Hope,” I say.
I’m drained when I get home. Divining is a thirsty art. My dove coos at me as soon as she sees me. I pet her through the cage and ease comes over me. You can’t take your work home with you. It is a job of whiplash. I told a woman her daughter would die, then read a young girl’s love trajectory. Starshine flutters her wings and tries to fly within the confines of her cage. Guilt builds in me, and not for the first time, I think about letting her go. Why does a star dove fly? To touch the sky. But then I would be alone and the thought makes my chest ache.
I open my journal to find memories of the past. I sit under candlelight and read an entry that I don’t recall writing.
To Emane,
I often think about how we ended up this way. I wonder what will stop the cycle? How do I stop unraveling? I don’t think I can. I made another mistake today. I’m slipping…slipping away. I’m afraid, yet it calls to me.
Soul of my soul, dust to dust, I pass on to you.
-The one who came before you
It sounds insane, yet I remember that night on the plain where I awoke to a visage of myself fading away. The thought terrifies me. Will that be me one day? Star dust of my soul, together may we reach our goal. If I achieve my goal, will I get to live?
But I have no clue what the goal could be. I try to divine the answer in my cards, but the answer comes up blank as always. A diviner can’t read for herself. I sleep restlessly.
I walk through the park wanting to escape loneliness, even if it just means seeing other people pass me by. The greenery of spring is only beginning to return, and the air is crisp and smells of grass. What ever happened to that little girl I divined about? I push the thought away. Focusing on my clients’ issues would overwhelm me if I wasn’t careful.
A woman with blond curly hair, a tall build, and russet skin stood surrounded by pigeons. On her shoulder, a colorful bird perches. She spread out birdseed for the little creatures, a radiant smile on her face. I walk towards her without thinking and scare half of the birds away. I stop and take a step back.
The woman chuckles. “Are you drawn to bird seed, too?”
“I-I didn’t mean to frighten them.”
“Birds are skittish little things, don’t feel too bad.”
“Except that one.” I nod to the bird on her shoulder.
She grins. “This one is Echo. She lives with me.”
My heart skips a beat. What a lovely smile. “I have a pet dove at home.” I blurt out.
“Doves are beautiful, much less ostentatious than Echo here.”
“True,” I say, my words failing me. I stay still and some birds return to their food. They peck the ground contentedly.
“You must have a special aura,” she says.
“So do you.”
“No really, are you magi?”
“A diviner,” I say.
Her eyes brighten. “Read for me?”
I sputter and she puts up her hands.
“I’m sorry. That’s presumptuous of me. It’s your job.”
“I’ll do it for free,” I say.
We sit down on a park bench, and I summon my cards. Echo perches on her shoulder overlooking the magic.
“What would you like to know?”
“Tell me about love,” she says.
“Are you single?” I ask without thinking.
“Yes,” she says with a twinkle in her eye.
“I see.” I shuffle my cards, heat in my cheeks, and refuse to look at her. Pink mixed with black and green. “You will meet your love on a green day.”
“A green day?”
“On a nice day, surrounded by greenery.”
“Like today?” she asks.
I look away. “Could be.”
She chuckles. “This may be forward, but can I have a way to contact you?”
I look at her flushed cheeks and I can’t hold back a smile. “Ye-yes.”
That night I couldn’t sleep, my heart pounding in my ears. Something amazing has happened and I can’t catch my breath. Maybe I have achieved my goal. Having someone that will take away our loneliness. Eventually Starshine’s chirps help guide me to sleep.
I’m divining for a young man who wants to know if he will get a job, when someone knocks on my door. The man has a nervous tick of bouncing his knee and he stills when I pardon myself.
“A woman needs to speak with you,” my assistant says. “It’s urgent.” She’s flustered and I frown.
I excuse myself from my session and go to see who has called on me. I step into the room and come face to face with a distraught Ana Marie Blesson. She races towards me and I stumble back.
She slaps me across the face.
I yelp and hold my cheek. I back into the wall as my heart races.
“You killed my daughter,” she spat.
“What?”
“That charm you gave me, or whatever it was. After I put it on her, she got so much worse.”
“That’s not how it-“
“Shut up. I know it was you, witch.”
A tear slips down my cheek, anger and embarrassment rise in me. “I told you the chances were slim, a charm can only do so much-“
“I’ve gone to the authorities.” She raises her hand and I cringe. She let her hand fall.
“I never should have gone to you,” she whispers and storms out.
I slump to the floor, my heart racing, my breath fast, my cheek stinging. I can’t think. Words fail me as my assistant crouches down to the floor next to me.
“They won’t find anything,” my assistant says. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
But I can’t remember what I’ve done. I can’t remember anything before that first session with Ms. Blesson, before that night under the stars. My secret.
My fear.
My life is crumbling before my eyes and I can’t trust anything that I’ve done. I cancel all of my sessions for the day, go home, and cry into my pillow.
How did everything go so wrong? I hadn’t even charged her for the session. I was just trying to help. Things have been looking up. I found someone who likes me. I tremble all over and cough from sobbing too long. I’m not strong enough. I’ve never been strong enough.
My crying stops as I breathe into the pillow and steam my face. I whine and clutch the blankets. I push them away and run to my desk.
I throw open my journal and read the passage written to me. How do I stop slipping away…yet it calls to me. I read it again and again until I lose sense of the meaning. I can’t process the words, but I don’t need to anymore. The words root in my heart.
I flip open to a new page. I make an entry; the letters come easily, almost like they are guided by some greater force. Not the stars, but some pull inside of me. I close the journal and stare out at the full moon.
I hear Starshine cooing and I go to her. I curl up with my knees against my chest and watch her. She flaps her wings and I close my eyes. I take a deep breath and for a moment, everything slips away. Starshine’s melody wakes me from my reverie. She’s chirping because the stars are out. I know she loves the night-sky and without thinking; I grab her cage and head outside.
I’m out on the plain where I was born. That is how I think of it now. The day where I came into being. Starshine coos incessantly and flaps her wings. Tears streak down my face. I open her cage. She looks into my eyes and tilts her head. I nod to her and she hops out of the cage. Starshine tests her wings a couple times and flaps onto my shoulder. She nuzzles my cheek and for a second I think all will be well.
Then Starshine soars away. Her white coat disappears into starlight. Why do star doves fly?
To touch the sky.
I collapse to the ground and close my eyes. There’s a tinkling noise and my body goes numb, not the tingly kind, just a soft emptiness.
“Who are you?” she asks. She has my voice. I know who it is, so I don’t open my eyes.
“Can’t you tell?” I whisper.
“You’re me,” she says. “But why has your arm disappeared?”
“Because I’m not strong enough,” I say. I open my eyes and take in my wide, blue gaze. Her black hair flows in the wind and matches mine. Dust sparkles around her and builds up her body. I look at my vanishing arm, but feel no pain, maybe just…
Relief?
“But I understand now,” I say.
“What do you mean?” she sounds panicked, and I worry that she won’t be strong enough. But that wasn’t the point.
“I met a nice woman the other day. Starshine is one with the stars,” I say. “There are good things coming for us.”
She holds her head and frowns. “But what about that woman, Ms. Blesson, the authorities?”
“You’re going to have to face that.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“I know you can,” I say.
“How?”
“Because we survive.”
She shifts nervously on her feet. The only thing missing is her arm.
“We pass our life on to one another, dust to dust, soul of my soul.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s the goal,” I say. “To survive, and for us to be happy. That’s all it is. Tell me, why does a star dove fly?”
“To touch the sky.”
The dust swirls and specks the heavens.
Dear Esme,
My fingers reach out to yours as they crumble away. Already I mourn the memory of me. One second, two seconds, three, when can I return to the former me? Begging, I ask infinity how do I return to thee? Only forward, I am answered. Become the next me as I crumble to eternity.
Soul of my soul, dust to dust, I pass on to you.
-The one who came before you
END
I hope you enjoyed this story. I wrote it to come to terms with the idea of splitting. Splitting is the name for a process in Dissociative Identity Disorder where a part splits into two or more parts. It often happens to strong duress. We had a split and were distraught over the loss of a part that we loved. Often our hosts (the part that is out the most) are the ones to shatter and this poem was written by one of our hosts as they came to terms with the idea of disappearing one day. This whole story is based around this sadness, this loss, and acceptance of our ephemeral existence.
-Aether
If you liked this story you might enjoy the other story where I explored my DID
Aetherias Moon 
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