KarMel
Scholarship 2008
|
Fictional
Story “When
a Star Burns Out” By Matt
Mallon |
Desciption of Submission: “When a Star Burns
Out" is a science-fiction love story featuring two gay main characters.
The setting is in an alternate world very similar to our own; the main
difference is that the world in the story is one that has banned homosexuality
everywhere. The extent to which the government pursues this law is
sickening--even school children such as the narrator, Jack, are vulnerable to
it, as is displayed in the story. Although the homophobic attitude of this
world's society is certainly an integral part of the tale, it is not the main
theme. Really this is a story about finding love in the strangest places, hope
in the most desolate circumstances, and comfort in the most unlikely of
endings. Caught beneath the stars, representing humanity, Jack realizes that
although all the stars are different (on the symbolic level, referencing to
people being GLBT or straight, but to other factors such as race, religion,
etc. as well), they must all inhabit the same sky, sharing in each other's pain
when one of them burns out.” - Matt
|
I was arrested when I was seven
years old. It was recess, and my best friend and I ran behind a group of
bushes at the edge of the asphalt for a game of hide and go seek. We sat
cross-legged in the dirt for several minutes before we got to playing around
as young boys do, wrestling and getting covered in
dust. After a complicated set of feigns and blocks, I was able to maneuver
myself on top of him and sit on his chest, trapping him in a hold. All of a
sudden, I did something which I have regretted every day of my life. I darted
forward and kissed him right on the lips. I don’t know why I did it, and I
certainly didn’t mean to; it was just an impulse, really. My friend pushed me
away and sat up, and then his face went pale as ice. He was looking at
something behind me. I turned my head, and my stomach turned at the sight
before me—there was my teacher, storming towards us as we gaped. She didn’t say a word. She simply
grasped us both by the ears and dragged us to the principal’s office as we sobbed, knowing what lay ahead of us. When we entered Mr.
Bukovsky’s office, we were greeted by the back of his enormous black office
chair. He swiveled around, swift as a snake, and a dark frown appeared on his
face at the sight of us. Everyday at the beginning of
school he had preached to us the evils of any love outside that between a man
and a woman as we sat huddled in lines on the gym floor. He had also recited
a list of consequences if we were to be caught. It was too long for me to
remember, but one punishment in particular had stood out—correction. “What have we here, Mrs. Delby?” he asked, his deep
voice filling the small office. “I found these two vermin kissing
behind a bush!” she replied. Her voice shook—she could barely control her
disgust. “I see. Boys,
were you aware that what you did was a crime, punishable by law?” he asked us
mockingly, a smile forming on his lips. We nodded our heads slowly. “Do you know what we do to little
boys who break the rules?” He was toying with us. He didn’t
bother waiting for our response. “We fix them,” he said. He waved his hand, and the door of
the office opened. Two police officers in blue uniforms marched in and
grabbed my friend and me by the arms. We never saw the school, or each other,
again. *** That was a long time ago. I don’t
know exactly how long it’s been since I was arrested, but judging by the hair
growing on my chin, it’s been a while. The hospital is my My days are pretty routine. I wake up in the mornings and go to bed in the
evenings at the same time everyday; I eat the same meals and see the same
doctors. The majority of my days are filled with therapy. Sometimes it’s
normal, like when Dr. Zimmer and Dr. Calvin ask me questions about girls and
my childhood and things like that, but other times, it can get pretty
bizarre, like this one time when a woman, a full-grown woman, strode into the office, sat right on my lap,
and didn’t say a word for thirty minutes. Some genius new technique, I guess. Dr. Zimmer and Dr. Calvin say I’m
making pretty good progress and think I’ll start liking girls by the end of
the year. I don’t really know. Honestly, I don’t even think about girls or
guys that much. I don’t get why it’s such a big deal and all. What’s really strange about this
place is that I’ve never seen another patient here. Not a one. I’ve asked a
nurse about it before, and she told me they keep all of us on a strict
schedule as we’re escorted from room to room, therapy to therapy. It’s timed
just right so as to avoid any possible contact between patients—they like to
keep us separated so we don’t get any “ideas.” I don’t really understand what
the nurse was getting at. Even though life at the hospital
is pretty boring, there’s one thing that really makes it worthwhile. The lock
on my door has been broken since I got here. The staff still doesn’t know.
About twenty minutes after I’m supposed to go to sleep in my room, I put my
ear to the door and listen to see if anyone’s in the hallway; if not, I open
the door and slip out. The corridors are pretty deserted at night, so I don’t
have to worry too much about getting caught. Everything is still and silent;
the doors to the patients’ rooms are locked, windowless. Down the hall from my room,
there’s a set of stairs. They lead right up to the roof. I like to go up
there, lie down on my back, and get lost in the huge field of stars twinkling
above me. All the lights look so beautiful—I never see anything so
captivating in the hospital. I think what makes them so great is that just
looking at them, I can’t see that much of a difference between them, but when
I look close, they’re all unique. It’s really something. Once I get my fill of the stars, I
sneak back to my room and fall asleep. When I wake up the next morning, I
begin a day almost exactly the same as the one before. Today seems different, though.
There’s some kind of energy in the air that’s raising bumps on my skin,
making my hair stand on end. Suddenly it becomes clear why. A nurse is
escorting me down the hall to my first therapy session of the morning when,
for the first time, I see another patient. He’s on his knees, body writhing,
raging like a bull against a guard who’s trying to put him in a straight
jacket. He looks at me, and our gazes lock. His eyes are the deepest shade of
green I have ever seen. I stop walking; he stops struggling. For a fraction
of a second, everything seems to freeze. The magical moment is broken suddenly
when the hulking guard seizes his opportunity and straps the jacket tight
around the patient’s body. The nurse beside me puts her hand on the small of
my back and urges me onward; I keep my eyes locked upon the man kneeling on
the ground as I walk past, and he does the same. A moment later, I’m around
the corner and he’s gone. I’ve been thinking about him ever
since. I figure he’s new to the hospital since anyone who has been here for
any length of time knows struggling against the staff is useless. I used to
be like him too before I came to my senses. I also figure that I’ll probably
never see him again, since it was a feat that the staff made such a mistake
once, and it’ll have to be a miracle for them to make it again. It’s a sad
thought, but it’s just the way things are. I find myself saying these words
an awful lot. I head up the stairs quickly
tonight—I need something to take my mind off that man. I lie down and lose
myself in the enormity of the sky above me. The sound of footsteps up the
stairs brings me back to reality. Damn, what am I going to
do? I think. I’m caught—there’s
nowhere to hide. God, I’m going to get in so much trouble for this… The door slowly creaks
open, and my breath catches in my throat. I can already feel the cold steel
of the guard’s handcuffs on my wrists. But the silver light of the moon
doesn’t fall on the gruff face of a watchman—instead it reveals the green
eyes of the man I saw earlier in the day. He’s as surprised to see me as I
am him. His face freezes in astonishment for a moment, but when he realizes
who it is he’s looking at, he seems to relax. He strides toward me
confidently. I’m still paralyzed, the reality of the situation not yet
sinking in. Now that he’s close, I can finally get a good look at him. His
head is shaved bald, as is mandatory for all patients in the hospital, and
the billowing sleeves of his hospital gown are rolled up, revealing the
tattoos on his bulging arms—a skull on his right, a lightning bolt on his
left. Other than the tattoos, he doesn’t look too much older than I am. “Hey, it’s you—the guy I saw
earlier. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?” he says, throwing me a sly
smile. I simply nod my head—I can barely
breathe, yet alone talk. “Man, are you all right?” he asks,
placing his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” I manage
to sputter out. He pulls his hand back. “Nice to meet you, Fine. I’m
David.” Another charming smile. “Oh, that’s not what I meant. My
name’s not really Fine, it’s Jack,” I rush to say. He begins to laugh. Realizing my
mistake, blood rushes to my face, making it bright red. God, I want to hide
somewhere. “Well I see nothing gets past you.
Hey, why are you up here anyway?” he asks. “I just like to sneak up here at
night and look at the stars. It’s kind of my escape, I guess.” I could have easily lied to him
and made up a story, but for some reason I feel comfortable enough around
this man to tell him the truth. “Cool, cool. Yeah, I just can’t
stand being cooped up in a tiny room, so I had to get out. Lucky for me, the
ceiling panels aren’t too sturdy,” he says, flexing his arm and kissing it. I can’t help but smile at this
strange character. He’s so full of life and energy, so different from the
stern doctors and tired nurses at the hospital. “Hey, wanna sit down?” he asks,
beckoning downward. “Sure,” I reply. “So, how’d you end up here?” I ask
him after we’re situated. “Well, it was about a week ago,”
he begins. I’m smiling on the inside—I guessed right. “I was at a ‘meeting’ with a few
of my male ‘friends,’ if you catch my drift,” he tells me and winks. “Oh, gotcha,” I reply. I should be
repulsed by this man and his dirty past, yet instead I become even more
intrigued. He continues, “What happened was some weasel
told the cops and the whole place got raided. Some guys shoved me in the back
of a truck and voila! I’m here.” “You act like it’s all a joke! Aren’t
you worried at all?” I ask, unable to keep the incredulity out of my voice. “Please! You think a few
slouched-over doctors and pudgy nurses can keep me in here? I’ll break out of this cesspool in no time.” “It’s not so easy…” I try to tell
him. “Come on, Jack, old boy! You’ve
got some fight in those bones, I know it! It’s a matter of confidence, that’s
all—if you believe you can, you can. Sheesh, it looks like those old docs
have beaten all the bravado out of you.” “Well, when you’ve been here as
long as I have…” I reply. He raises his eyebrows and cocks
his head. “To tell you the truth, I’m not
really sure how long. I know I was seven when they brought me in. That’s
about it.” “Wow. I’m really sorry, man. I
couldn’t imagine spending my whole childhood in this messed up place,” he
says. “It’s okay. I’ve gotten used to
it. This hospital is all I’ve known for so long—even if I could leave, I
don’t know if I’d be able to.” We sit in silence for several
minutes, caught beneath the weight of my words. Finally David speaks. “I think I better be heading back.
But hey, do you wanna meet up again tomorrow night?” “Yeah, I’d really like that,” I
say, smiling. “All right, chief. I’ll see you
tomorrow then,” he replies. “See you later.” He walks to the door and
disappears down the staircase; I lie back once again to gaze at the stars. They
seem a little brighter. *** The next night, I run up the
stairs as fast as I can. David isn’t there yet. I try sitting down, but my
legs are twitching so much I have to get up and walk. I nearly jump out of my
paper hospital slippers when I see the door open and David walk through. We talk for hours as we sit on the
cold hospital roof beneath the stars—about our lives, our friends, our
families. Of course my faded childhood memories aren’t nearly as exciting as
David’s riveting tales of the city, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Even though
I’ve been talking to therapists and doctors and psychoanalysts for years in
my treatment, I don’t think any of them have pay half as much attention as
David does. It feels pretty good talking to someone who actually listens to what I have to say rather
than analyze it. “You know, Jack, there’s something
I’ve gotta tell you,” David says as our conversation begins to die down. “And what’s that?” I ask. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you
earlier, but this entire time
you’ve had a little something on your lip.” My heart lurches; I have never
been so embarrassed. I begin rubbing my lips vigorously with my hands. “Wait, I think you missed some.
Let me help you out,” David says. I pull my hands back, and he leans
in and kisses me. When our lips touch, softly and timidly, I see stars, even
though my eyes are closed. I can almost feel the light of the moon falling in
silver streamlets over the stubble on our shaven heads, and I thank whatever
planets have aligned to allow this miracle to happen. He pulls back, and we both open
our eyes and smile. He places his hand on my shoulder, tells me he’ll see me
tomorrow night, and then walks to the staircase door. After he leaves, a
comet flashes through the skies above me, for a second brighter than all the
stars around it. *** The last couple weeks have been
the best of my life. My days are filled with thoughts of David, David, David. The green of his eyes, the gleam of his smile, the feel of his arms around me…I can’t get him off of my
mind. It’s been taking every ounce of my will not to go sprinting out of my room
the instant the nurse closes my door at night. I hope this feeling never goes
away. It’s night again. We’re on the
roof, lying in each other’s arms, my head resting on his chest as it moves up
and down. The wind is blowing, the weather getting colder; we have to stay
close to keep from shivering. David begins to speak. “Jack, I don’t know much longer I
can stay here,” he states matter-of-factly. “What do you mean? Is it me? Did I
do something?” “No, no, it’s not you. It’s this
hospital. I can’t stand being cooped up in this sad, twisted place, trapped
in its walls and rules and schedules. I need to be free. We need to be free. Love is more than just a few hours a night on
a hospital rooftop—it’s a round-the-clock position,” he says. A month before, I would have
considered the possibility of escape impossible—useless, even. But in David’s
arms, beneath the twinkling stars, it seems completely within reach. At long
last I have something more to live for than the dots on the ceiling or the
dirt on the walls. I tell him we can flee together,
get a house in the country, and live the rest of our days in peace. He leans
over and kisses me, then tells me his plan. *** The next night when I leave my
room, I carry a pillow in my hand, and instead of heading left down the
hallway to the stairs, I move to the right. The dimmed nighttime lights
reveal a metal handle protruding from the wall a minute later. I pull the
handle towards me and a portion of the wall slips open, revealing the
blackness of the laundry chute behind it. Placing the pillow between the
chute door and the wall so it stays open, I slip one leg in, then the next. I
fall into a giant bin of blue hospital gowns several seconds later. I look
around. No one is in the area; only row upon row of silent washers and dryers
stand in the giant room. I scamper out of the bin and wait.
After several minutes, as soon as I begin to worry, I hear a swish and see a
flailing body sink into the large receptacle in front of me. David crawls out
a moment later. After a quick embrace, we begin to
move. David has explored the laundry room several times before and knows
precisely where the exit is. A minute later, on the other side of the
enormous room, David pushes open a metal door and we walk outside. We’re out. It’s no cause for celebration,
though. We still need to leave the hospital grounds undetected and reach the
safe-house that David has assured me is just a few blocks away. A gravel
alley stretches before us, and we begin to run. Suddenly, we hear a shout.
Standing at the open door, hands pressed to her face, is one of the nurses. She presses a red button located
on the wall, and an alarm begins to sound. The fence at the end of the gravel
driveway swings shut automatically; the sharp ends of the barbed wire glint eerily
in the moonlight. We keep on running anyway. A moment later, a spotlight shines
from the roof, our roof, and puts
us in plain sight as we bolt towards freedom. The sound of an explosion
momentarily drowns out the alarm’s wailing call. Something whistles by my
ear, and David, running in front of me, falls to the stones below. A bright
red patch blossoms on the back of his hospital gown. I look up at the multitude of
stars above me and curse them as loud as I can, knowing that no one would
notice if one of them burned out. *** That was several months ago. I was
lucky to hold my hands in the air when I did, or else the guards would have
shot me, too. I was a wreck for weeks after David died; I didn’t say a word,
and I refused to eat—the nurses had to strap me down and force food into my
mouth. The usual punishment for attempted escape is two weeks of intensive
electroshock therapy, but considering my condition, the doctors decided I had
been punished enough already. I was kept under constant
surveillance for about a month after the incident, but once I started eating
and feeling well again, things went back to normal. The first time I went
back up to the roof, I almost fell down the stairs on my way up because my
legs were shaking so much. I stumbled outside. As soon as I looked at the
stars, I began to count them, like the dots on the ceiling, vowing to do so
every night, so I would know if any of them left. Somewhere after five
hundred, I stopped. It became clear to me that no matter how many times I
counted them, it wouldn’t stop any of them from fading away. Stars continue
to shine even after one of their number burns out, and sometimes all you can
do is lie down on the hospital roof and watch them glow. |