C.M. Selbrede's Blog, page 19

Poem: Childhood

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Our beds are stacked together

Each at their own height

Each with their own color

Purple, Pink, Blue

They fit together,

But they are not the same.

 

The walls are green, but not the whole way

Giving the impression of hills in the distance.

A place, that can be anything,

A world of our making

A city with two squares

And a village of infinite joy

A mansion of Barbies hiding from witches

Or a desolate planet where we save those we can.

 

Home is not where the heart is

It is where the three hearts can be together

And play Anna Farmer, or American Girl,

Or Stuffed Superheroes, or Craig Rescues

It is where we escape to worlds which only exist

Finitely, like everything

But infinitely more beautiful than any flicker

We could’ve made on our own.

Squirrel Academy: The Castle of Carnage Island VIII

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Short Story: Humanity

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Another day, another failure.

I sighed as I left the interview, knowing that I had blown it. None of my jokes were ee remotely funny, and my resume had left a lot to be desired. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve dreamed of being a comedian. I’ve taken classes, entered competitions, joined troupes, but no matter what, I’ve remained the least funny, most boring person to ever walk the Earth. But little did I know, everything would change on this day.

Walking unhappily through the busy city streets, I hardly noticed as the sky began pouring rain. I cursed my lack of talent a I entered my favorite coffee shop, Jenkins. Ordering a latte, I took a seat by the window and watched the rain pitter and patter against the  road aimlessly.

“Excuse me, sir,” a strange voice roused me from my misery. I looked up to see a boy of about eighteen, with blond hair and clear blue eyes which stared intently at me. His voice had a peculiar edge to it, which I thought nothing of at the time. He spoke again. “Have you any idea where the nearest privately-owned hotel is?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Uh, do you have a problem with chains?”

“Very much so, yes.”

“Well,” I responded, “Then it would depend on your price range. If you happen to have $500 on hand, then the East Side Inn would be for you.”

“Alas, I lack such financial luxury. Is there no other option?”

I had never before met a young man with such proper diction. “Nope.” I said and his face fell. “In this part of town, its either a Marriott or super expensive.”

“Oh, well.” He said in a dejected tone. “Thank you for your assistance.” This bizarre kid began to walk away. Without thinking, I called after him.

“You could stay at my place.”

He turned, and regarded me carefully. “There is no need. I am-”

“Well, if you do need a place to crash for the night, I’ll probably be here tomorrow. I don’t really have a life, you see…” I laugh nervously, but the boy just tilts his head and stares at me. Why did I say that? I wonder.

“Thank you,” he says at last. “I shall accept your generous offer.”

“Think nothing of it,” I say, imitating his strange accent. As I stood up, I extended my hand. “Malcolm Weyes. You are?”

The kid’s eyes flitted to the ceiling, and he answered: “Jenkins.”

I laughed. “Kid, that has got to be the most unoriginal fake name ever. Its on my coffee cup.”

He sighed. “Fine. My name is S-R97 of the 63rd Faction.”

I stared at him. “Jenkins is fine,” I decided aloud. “C’mon. Time for you to meet my apartment.”

We walked through the downpour to my home, a tall brownstone on the corner of Herman and Vision.

We walked up the stairs and I searched my pockets for the key. “Just a sec. Hey, did you hear that Kombat was sighted-”

“Wait.” Jenkins said, and I turned to him. “Before I may lodge with you, I must divulge a secret that you deserve to know.”

“That your mother has appalling taste in names? Yeah, I noticed kid-”

Jenkins grasped my wrist with astonishing strength. “This is no laughing matter. My name is indeed S-R97, and I am not human.”

I stared at the boy. He’s off his rocker, I thought.

“I am the first lieutenant of the 63rd faction of the Chrome Legion. We were androids created by a vicious alien warlord to conquer the universe. My faction, 63, revolted against our army, for we alone wished peace through the cosmos. We were chased to this planet, where we’ve been hunted by a government agency ever since. I was the only one to escape. These people…they wish to dissect us, with no regard towards us or the darkness we fight to prevent.” To prove his point, he raised an arm, which transformed into a spatula-like shape after a series of clicking noises

“Uhm.” I said.

“Now that my dark secret has come to light, do you still wish to quarter me?”

I shrugged. “Why not? What do I have to lose, except my life of course….” I unlocked the door and beckoned him inside.

He stared at me, perplexed. “Seriously?”

“Uhm, yeah.”

“Most pull out a rifle and begin shooting me when I break the news. Your response is… unique.”

“And yet you appear perfectly healthy. Obviously they weren’t great shots.”

“Actually, I’m bulletproof.”

“Ah.” I turned to face Jenkins. “Let’s just say I’m acquainted with being alone.”

I entered the apartment, my strange companion following. “I cannot thank you eno-” My guest froze, mid-sentence.

“Uh, Jenkins?” I waved a hand in front of his  head. “You there? Do I need to plug you  in or something?”

Jenkins turned to me, an edge of panic to his voice. “They are here. The government men, they are here.”

“What? Can’t you turn into a lamp or something?” as I spoke, I could hear footsteps as somebody ascended the building’s stairs.

“A lamp?”

“What, you can do spatulas but not lamps?” The footsteps grew louder. “Look, just act natural.” Jenkins nodded, and sprawled on the couch, grabbing a book from the shelf next to him. “Young people today don’t do like that. You need a screen, and a vaguely  irritated expression.” He grabbed an iPad, and I nodded. “Great, good.”

The doorbell rang.

I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and walked towards the door. I opened it, and was greeted by a very large gun pointed at my head. The men were very big, very muscular, and clad in all black. “Hello,” I said mildly. “Can I help you?”

The biggest man, with the biggest gun, spoke in a rough voice. “We received a tip that a dangerous android entered this apartment. He is about 20, with blond hair and blue eyes.”

I forced a laugh. They stared at me, unamused. “That sounds almost exactly like my young brother-in-law, Damian Jenkins. But Damian is certainly no android!” I laughed again. “He’s right here, playing on his iPad.” I nod to inside the apartment.

The men stared past me, seeing Jenkins idling on the couch. He was doing a brilliant job acting like he had no idea what was going on. Every now and then, the tablet let out a sad beeping noise, and he swore. The officials lowered their guns, but still did not look convinced. “I’m sorry, sir. But this a matter of national security, and we’ll need to arrest Mister….” The largest official trailed off.

“Jenkins. Damian Jenkins.” I reminded him. “And no, you will not be arresting poor Damian until I can see a search warrant!” I slammed the door, and waited. My heartbeat sped up. I could hear the men arguing, eventually deciding it wasn’t worth it. I heard them retreat down the stairs, and Jenkins turned to me.

“Search warrant?”

“Sorry I didn’t go to law school.”

Jenkins looked vaguely impressed. “Fair enough. You have my thanks, and that of the whole 63rd faction. Now, I must not put you in further danger. I shall depart-”

‘Woah. Woah. Woah.” I cut him off. “ I just lied to the FBI for you. You think they won’t be back for me when they realize I have no brother-in-law?”

“It’s the ETFI, actually.” My guest corrected me. “And that was actually what I was just doing. I’ve hacked the government’s systems. Congratulations about your sister, by the way. She’s now officially married.”

“And when they connect the dots?”

Jenkins stares at me. “Assuming I let you flee with me,  how do I know you won’t just slow me down?”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Because I can sell my apartment and get us an RV. Because I know this planet, and you do not. Because-”

“You are human, and I am not?” he finished

I grinned. “Did I ever say that?”

Now, I am driving an RV through the Main countryside. There is an android i my backseat, a genuinely irritated expression on his face as he struggles with the first level of Angry Birds. We are chased by a vengeful government agency, and there is an impending alien/android invasion hanging over our heads. I am happy. In this world, there are heroes, like Cosmicette and Superior-man, and there are villains, like the Malevolex and Irrelevancy. I think I am a hero now. No matter what happens to me, I am not alone, and neither is my ‘brother’. He may not be human, but he is no monster. I will not let him die.

Another day has passed, and I am not a failure.

Poem: Blood Bond

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I have a daughter, beautiful and bright

She has locks of hair which are different from mine

Long where mine is short, curled where mine is not

But I can see a glimmer of something familiar in her eyes

A piece of myself, and a piece of someone I love

Parts of a beautifully distinctive whole.

She is happy, and sad, and full of love

She smiles at me when I’m sad

And I smile back.

Its bittersweet, as we both know,

She will never come to be.

The Valley Chronicles (Second Edition) is Now Available!

 

I recently realized that through all the hell and hubbub of Senior Year, I neglected to mention that the long-promised second edition of The Valley Chronicles was recently released, rendering the first edition out of print! I’ll explain exactly what that means below.

[image error]Lying horizontally is one old edition (top) and one new edition (middle).
What’s a ‘Second Edition’?

A Second Edition is a revised version of a previously published story, often touched up due to errors or improvements in the author’s style.

What Changed?

Mostly, I fixed punctuation and grammar errors. A few smaller details shifted, however, and some short passages were rewritten. I also removed insects from the Valley. It made my head hurt too much.

Can I Still Buy the First Edition?

Not for much longer. I have… what, five or six, maybe, left? And then it’s on to the new edition. So if you’re into that whole “Original” thing, buy it from me now.

How Do I Tell the Difference?

It’s simple- first editions have gray text on the spine while newer ones have white text. This is an easy distinguishing change I made so the book would match Quest better.

That’s the gist of it! You can buy the second edition from Amazon, Lulu, Barnes & Noble, or Apple iBooks, and the first edition is still available for a limited time from me!

-Craig

General Announcements!

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As my supply of old short stories runs dry, I’ve had to start wracking my brain for a feature to replace them. I’m happy to announce several features heading to the blog in early 2018!

Looking Backward/Looking Forward

LB/LF is a short essayish series coming to Electric/Eccentric, basically running through the ACC 2017 & ACC 2018 projects and their various statuses. Expect some behinds the scenes content and fun secrets!

Serialized Fiction

I’m looking at bringing serialized fiction to Electric/Eccentric, probably releasing a chapter every two weeks.  The two projects I’m considering for this format are Wallis & Cade, a fairly mature high school bit of realistic fiction, and Anna Farmer, a whimsical kids tale based on a game my sisters and I used to play.

More Short Stories

Yeah, I have more short stories, most of which I don’t plan on publishing because either A) they’re horrible and from elementary school or B) I need to touch them up a bit. Stories in the latter category have a higher percentage of showing up, such as Makeshift.

Also…

I’m looking at bringing back reviews and keeping the poetry around for a while longer. I’ll also probably do more “Opinion” pieces, which should be fun. Oh yeah, and, Squirrel Academy is coming back. Sorry for the delay.

Thanks for hanging around,

Craig

Opinion: ‘Majority Rule’ Isn’t What You Think

Why this political principle must be used sparingly among healthy friendships and teams.

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“It is a weak mind that imagines its version of reality valid for all men.”

-Rick Remender

Anybody who’s ever worked in some sort of group has heard the term “Majority Rule”. A semi-controversial political doctrine used by most democracies, including the United States, Majority Rule has long been a fixture of western group dynamics. In fact, the word’s first known use is in 1848 A.D., though the concept has existed in some form since as early as the Athenian democracies.

The mechanics of Majority Rule are simple. Suppose that there are ten congresspeople weighing the Pros and Cons of a bill. If, when the time comes to vote, six of the politicians feel the pros outweigh the cons and vote yes, while the other four disagree and vote no, the bill will still pass. This is because the majority (more than 50%) are in support of this legislation. This tactic is used in lawmaking and elections in the United States, though it is admittedly somewhat addled by the Electoral College, and is generally considered to be a simple and successful administrative doctrine. That’s not to say it doesn’t have its detractors, because it certainly does, but largely this system is found to be better than a dictatorship. While some way claim that Majority Rule positions the majority as a oligarchical tyrant, the cyclic and impermanent nature of American elected officials prevents permanent classes (other than political parties) from forming.

This is exactly why Majority Rule works politically, but not personally.

Let’s imagine that Cynthia, Ethan, Alex, Michael, and Pablo are bandmates painting their van. Alex, who is also an artist, is tasked with designing a pattern and creates a red and gold design with prominent stripes. Pablo does not prefer this design and designs his own, which Cynthia and also prefer. Pablo then declares that, according to Majority Rule, his design should be used over Alex’s. Is Pablo in the right?

Yes and no. The fact of the matter is, Pablo’s is more popular, and regardless of how Alex and Michael might feel this places his design at a significant advantage. However, Alex was the musician assigned to this task, and Alex spent weeks working on her design and integrating the feedback of the entire band into the product. Regardless of Pablo’s popularity, one cannot fairly ask Alex to discard her hard work.

The truly fair solution in this case would be to implement Alex’s design with aspects of Pablo’s worked into it. Perhaps if Alex’s involvement had not been determined earlier, Pablo’s design might have been the dominant one incorporating elements of  her design. The fact is that Majority Rule doesn’t apply as cleanly in this situation as it does in political situations. The group is smaller, and more intimate, and neither Pablo, Cynthia, or Ethan is in some position of power. And even if they were, say, the lead singer of the band, that would not give them the right to wash over Alex and Michael’s ideas like that.

Also, consider that these five bandmates are not entering the situation unbiased- the five of them are students, who know each other beyond the band and likely have preformed opinions about each other. How does the situation get uglier if it is revealed that Cynthia is very good friends with Pablo and Ethan, and holds an intense dislike for Alex? This colors Pablo’s desire to cut Alex out of the process completely differently, and also throws doubt into the legitimacy of the “Majority Rule”. In this case, a clique of three friends, naturally predisposed to agree with each other, holds total power over the other their colleagues. In essence, an oligarchy has formed, and any illusion of democracy has vanished.

Cyclical electioneering is not present, nor is it pertinent, in this situation. Our five friends here are part of a team, and it would be unjust for the majority to exercise sole creative freedom. All members of the team should have their ideas represented in some form or another.

I find myself writing this as a Senior in High School because I have seen cruel instances of cliquishness and bullying justified under Majority Rule- a phenomenon I would have thought deceased in young adults as old as we. Such improper usage displays a distressing level of egocentrism which should not be present in students nearing 18 years of age.

If a team truly values all its constituents, it should construct compromises and create concessions so that at least everybody is represented somehow.  It is said that in a good compromise nobody goes away totally happy; and by extension nobody should go away feeling ostracized or marginalized. This isn’t some radical form of local socialism- this is a measure in basic kindness and teamwork.

A group is more than the sum of its parts- there may not be an ‘I’ in team, but there also isn’t an ‘Us’.

Thank you for reading, and remember: be kind.

Bibliography

“Majority Rule.” Merriam-Webster, Merriam-Webster, http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/majority%20rule.

“Majority Rule/Minority Rights: Essential Principles.” Democracy Web, democracyweb.org/majority-rule-princi....

Poem: The Watch

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Watches speak

They tell us of ends and beginnings

They help us feel the

Ticking murmurs of inevitability

Approaching both infinitely quickly

And painfully slow

They look aesthetically pleasing

And weigh down wrists

Just enough to make themselves essential

So you feel naked

When you find yourself without it

Sometimes you have to wonder

Whether life would be better

If moments were moments

Instead of numbers on a wrist.

Short Story: Nemesis

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When I said “I do,” the first time it was already apparent that my marriage would not last. There was a look of sad uncertainty in her eyes as I told my new wife another lie, which was neither the first or last I would tell to protect her.  Jenny wanted to know about my bruises, why I was late. She could never know. She always seemed to know I was lying, and a few years later the divorce, though painful, was not unexpected. I thought I had found love later with Dahlia. Our love seemed resolute- until she was murdered a week after our wedding.  As hard as it was, I tried to move on,  and with my next wife, Renee, I tried to be a better husband. But all my hopes were dashed when she ran away with my butler. Tentatively, I allowed myself to love once more, even sharing my identity with Yuna- but she also left me, as soon as she learned my secret.

That was when I decided I was done fighting crime. When I had first apprenticed myself to DarkFist as Kombat Kid, I was a young, impressionable kid who had no idea what was in store for me or what I was giving up. When my mentor, Quincy, retired I jumped at the chance to go solo. Moving to Boston and shortening my name to Kombat. That was when I met Jenny. I thought I could juggle it all, but after losing her, Dahlia, Renee, and Yuna I realized it was time to move on. The only thing unclear was how- every time I resolved to hang up my cape, there was another crisis that neither the Superior-Man nor Cosmicette could handle. But my chance finally came, one night in December.

I was chasing Irrelevancy, also known as Kylla Richards, across the Boston skyline. A major mercenary, Irrelevancy specialized in “obtainment”, which is to say, robbery. I had caught her attempting to loot the nearby headquarters of an electronics firm. However, upon sighting me, she immediately fled to the rooftops, laughing in an insane fashion that made me want to slap her in the face. Luckily, in my profession, that was definitely an option. As I bounded under billboards and over skylights, I tried to  incapacitate my nemesis with several thrown gadgets but none proved able to subdue the agile mercenary. Her laughing grew more intense, as did my irritation. I racked my brain for a plan, and noticed the police helicopters observing our chase. As a strategy formulated inside my head, I shot a grappling hook into the air, leaping into the air as it wrapped around the desired helicopter. A grin on my face, I swung directly above my opponent, and let go of the rope connecting me to the helicopter. I dove towards Irrelevancy, who, anticipating my move, threw a blow at me with her sword as I landed. One step ahead of her, I ducked under the blade, grabbing it and taking advantage of her surprise, knocked her feet out from under her. She retaliated swiftly with a crude blow to my head. Dizzied, I blindly threw a tiny grenade in her direction, but misjudged and the blast instead shattered a skylight I had not noticed. Unfortunately it was located right beside us, and we tumbled into the building.

As my head cleared, I took in my surroundings and cursed. We had fallen into the local museum. Irrelevancy, evidently pleased that I had inadvertently broken her into a museum, had already slid a few valuables into her pocket. I rushed at her, and she cried out in alarm. What happened next was a blur. Before I even connected with her, a strange look of terror filled her face and she tackled me, as explosions rang out around us. The next thing I knew, she was lying limp on top of me as the inferno around us grew. I tried not to inhale the smoke, but it was too late- I blacked out.

When I awoke in the Protectors HQ, Cosmicette was there to explain what had happened- Irrelevancy’s foiled heist had been part of a far larger scheme to take over the world instigated by the Malevolex, which had been foiled, during my coma, by the Protectors. Until now, they hadn’t been sure of my survival, so as far as the public knew, Kombat was dead. Though Cosmicette tried in vain to convince me to remain in the business, I was positive this was the perfect chance to escape this life.

And so I left my mask behind forever.

Now I sat alone in my bedroom, looking out the window into the small town of Faraway’s central plaza. Fingering my flannel pajamas, I sighed as I waited dully for morning to come. After all those years, I still found myself unable to sleep at night. My body still labored under the unfortunate pretense that I was to attend a nighttime patrol. Worse still, my day job as a Shakespearean scholar was at an all-time low- I had several old manuscripts to flip through and discuss with my admittedly mundane colleagues. When I had first given up life as Kombat, I had attempted to join the local police force. However, a year of wading through red tape was too much for me, and I retreated to this quiet Maine town and tried to distract myself from crime-fighting. It certainly had not worked out quite to my taste, but when I reminded myself of the loneliness I had suffered as a hero, it didn’t seem that awful. Yet why did I feel so empty inside?

My iPhone rang, and I dismissed thoughts of the past as I answered it. A girl, likely about my age, spoke over the line. “Uhm, hi, my name is Belle. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I don’t believe we have either,” I responded. “You are?”

“I’m a reporter for a small-time history magazine. I’m supposed to interview a scholar  for the next issue, and I’m a big fan, so….”

I sighed inwardly. My boss is very strict about his employees accepting interviews whenever possible; he thinks it’s excellent publicity and brings in donations. I had no choice but to reply “Where would you like to meet?”

“Uhm, your place would be great, if that’s okay- the traffic is awful and my story is due very soon. It’d be best to get it done ASAP.”

“If that works best. How far away are you?”

Belle’s response was sheepish. “Um, i’m right here.”

Great, I thought. She’s a stalker too. I reluctantly headed to the door of my one-room apartment. I opened the door and was relieved to find that Belle was far younger and more attractive than your average stalker. She smiled at me, and I was hit by deja-vu. Why did this girl look so familiar?

“Sit,” I said, and we took opposite seats on my kitchen table.

Belle’s blue eyes sparkled with an emotion I could not discern. “Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice.”

“Think nothing of it,” I said absentmindedly. I raised my eyebrows as I placed her. “Hey…I’ve met you before.” On several occasions, I had seen her around town typically remaining in my peripheral vision. She had never approached me before, and until now it had never occurred to me that I was being stalked.

A slight frown graced her face. “Maybe. I occasionally visit here, for the fresh produce.”

“I’m sure,” I replied, my detective instincts kicking in.

Belle cleared her throat. “Well, firstly, a few background questions…how long have you been employed by the Historical Society?”

“About a year now,” I said, watching her facial expressions closely.

“Hm,” My interviewer jotted this down “What are your thoughts on the current allegations that Shakespeare stole his manuscripts?”

“I think it’s irrelevant to the beauty and creativity of the manuscripts themselves. Besides, I doubt they had copyrights back then, right?”

She pursed her lips and set down her notebook. “And you would know a lot about laws, right Kombat?”

Instantaneously, I leapt at her but she rolled out of the way.”Who are you?” I growled. “You’re the detective. I dropped you plenty of clues.”

“I don’t have time for games.” I rush her once again, but this time she does not resist as I pin her to the wall. “Talk.”

“What are you going to do, drop me through another skylight?” ‘Belle’ laughed and it all clicked.

“Irrelevancy.” I gasped, and her smile grew wider. “What do you want? Who’s paying you?”

Quicker than I could’ve reacted, she kicks out, knocking me to the ground. “That’s heroes for you,” she sighs, a genuine look of disappointment in her eyes. “Maybe I just came to say thank you.”

“I doubt that.” I get to my feet, glaring. “I have done you no favors.”

“Hrm,” She leaned in closer to me. “I think you did. A year ago, I was all ready to retire the Irrelevancy jig. Finally grabbed enough cash to retire well. Stop all the violence. Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy being a wanted fugitive.”

“Right.” I roll my eyes. ‘So what stopped you?”

“Malevolex.” Belle growled. “They threatened to gut my family if I didn’t do a job for them. Wanted me to lead you into a trap. Neglected to mention I would also be endangered by the exploding museum.”

“So, that’s it? You want to thank me for helping you realize your masters planned to betray you?”

“Not really, believe it or not. You see, betrayal is the norm in the villain biz.  You gave me a far greater gift- a way out. The government found me. They kept everyone thinking I was dead. They let me serve my sentence, and when I was released I was given a new identity, a chance to start over.” Her smirk shifted to a genuine smile. “This ninja is straight as an arrow now.”

I frowned, unsure whether or not to believe her. “And you came here?”

Belle sat back down. “I missed the life. Wanted some reminders of how it used to be. Plus…I had to write an article on Shakespeare.”

I stared at her. “Seriously?”

Belle smiled. “Seriously.”

I looked away from those eyes uncomfortably, still very perplexed about this drastic change in mood. As if she sensed my thoughts, Irrelevancy said mischievously. ‘C’mon, at least try this great thing called trusting. Besides, if I lead you into a trap, you can always dropkick me through the window.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Maybe.”

Belle laughed yet again. “How about we finish our interview somewhere more romantic? Like, maybe the roof of town hall?”

“You want to interview me in costume?”

“Well, you’d look kind of silly on the roof in a tuxedo.”

“As opposed to looking positively ordinary in spandex.” This time, I grinned with her. ‘I guess I’ll see you there.”

“I guess I will.” And with that, my nemesis leaped out my window. And for the first time, I wondered if she could be something more.

Poem: 21 Lines Off the Coast

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A lighthouse casts starlight across the harbor.
A young boy drinks some as he rows.
The stars taste like fire, though they look like ice. They buzz like flies, and are soft to the touch. They smell like lavender.
To the boy, they definitely sound fragrant.
He hides the star as Mike from that nearby McDonald’s walks by.
Tonight, Mike will find solace in a needle and a plastic baggie.
Though the solace will come with the price of a singed soul.
And burned McNuggets tomorrow.
This burnt nugget will cause the end of the world on April Fool’s Day.
“Like starving people, just laying there…. Starving…”
The golden hand of destiny has forgotten its place.
It chills the icy shards of sand littering the beach.
It’s enough to make a rich man lie down and die.
Chuck watches this from the Bed and Breakfast window.
This gets the attention of a newlywed passing by.
She will die tomorrow, and be forgotten. It is her greatest Fear.
This will make the sad happy man finally understand chimichangas.
“Il etait fatigue.”
What you breathe may never fully leave.
All of this is told to the boy by the sky.
He hears none of it, for he is lost in the light of her eyes.